Owning the Mafia Don

Sophie

She almost cried out as she watched the two pairs of feet approach the bed under which she was hiding.,

And then it struck her.

“He’s going to shag her! Oh, Sweet Jesus!’ Sophie closed her eyes, screwing them up and tried to shut out the sounds the woman began making, as Worthington’s trousers and his boxers slid to his polished shoes. It would have been comical if it had not been so terrifying.

“Loud enough to wake the dead.’ She thought in disgust.

‘Oh…Paul…I love it when you spank me…AAAA!’ came the woman’s voice as the sound of a hand landing on flesh resounded in the room. She screamed as he hit her. Repeatedly.

Sophie bit her lower lip to stop herself from puking.

The sound of the woman screaming in pleasure was becoming louder.

Sophie scowled and her jaw tightened. She would leap out and hit the both of them on their damned heads if they kept on like this, she thought grimly, revulsion coursing through her.

The tips of Worthington’s polished shoes were almost in her face and Sophie gritted her teeth, longing to move away. But the chances of discovery made her lie still.

“AAAH! OOOH!…’ went the woman, grunting and squealing in want was obviously a little too dramatic even for The Weasel

He was grunting,© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“But it is Lucien Delano you want, isn’t it, you slut? You want his c*ck up your big ho*e, eh?”

“Oh, Paulie,” panted the woman,” I waaa-nnt to have him.’

She was whining.

That was between the blows that were landing systematically on her body.

The woman was gasping as she replied and the tone of her voice made Sophie feel a shiver of apprehension

Then Worthington’s voice, slightly breathless now, came to her ears.

“You can have him once we take her away, baby.’ And then the sound of a slap that almost made Sophie jump.

The woman screeched and then moaned in desire.

‘Yes, oh yes, I want to have Lucien Delano fu*k me!’ She was almost screaming and Sophie thrust her fingers in her ears, feeling like throwing up.

She hoped she would not go to hell for having been under the bed at the wrong time.

The woman was squealing and making such a racket, Sophie lowered her head and waited.

And then, after a pause, as she regained her breath, her voice came again. But this time, it was hard and cold.

“He belongs to ME.”

The man with her giggled a strange, empty sound, and then the sound of their coupling became louder. And then silence.

After a while, Sophie watched as two pairs of feet landed on the floor. The woman stepped into her stilettoes.

Her voice, throaty and deep, floated to Sophie,

“I’ll take care of him. He’s mine.’

Confident and hard. She had heard that voice, but she could not place it.

The relish in her voice made Sophie wince.

“Good,’ came Worthington’s breathless reply. He was probably buttoning his fly, thought Sophie nastily. Those folds of fat around his waist can’t fit in quickly.

‘I have already informed Mr D.’

A few more murmurs as the couple said their goodbyes, moving away from the bed. Sophie did not dare to move.

The pair of red stilettoes left the room first.

The Weasel visited the bathroom, and then Sophie heard him leave.

“Please, Sweet Jesus,’ she prayed, ‘let him not lock the door.’

She was in luck.

The man merely shut the door behind him as he left. After waiting for a decent gap of time, she wriggled out from under the bed and scurried out. Putting her head down to avoid the cameras, and pulling her hood down, she left the room hastily and dived down the stairs to the staff area.

***

Danielle Eton was studying her cameras, which gave her a view of all the corridors on every floor. Tapping her teeth with a pen, she scowled as she watched first Catalina and then, Worthington, appear as they exited the room in the VVIP section.

“So they had an understanding?’ she thought idly, disturbed.

As she stared pensively, she saw another figure emerge, and her eyes nearly popped out.

Especially when she saw that it was a familiar face, the pixie face with the unruly copper curls peeking out from beneath the hoodie.

****

Proserpina

I was in the middle of my work at mid-morning. Since it was Christmas Eve, my children were busy screaming and shouting and playing in the house. Baby Claude wanted to join his older siblings who regarded him as a ‘pesky nuisance’, as Piers put it imperiously.

I had to catch up on some work, check the progress of some projects we had undertaken, and do other mundane things when the phone rang.

It was Danielle. Pushing my glasses to the top of my head, I answered. Her voice sounded strained.

“Hey, kid.’ She said and then continued without any preamble,

‘You coming for the Big Fight tonight?’

I smiled. Danielle’s abrupt behaviour would have offended most people, but I knew her well enough to know that she believed in cutting to the point, and disregarding social niceties.

Everyone knew that I had no stomach for fighting, and to watch my lover being beaten (although I knew he would give his opponent a brutal pounding) was something that made me feel squeamish.

Shaking my head and smiling, I replied.

‘No, I do not think so, Dani…’ I began when she interrupted me.

“You should.’

She said it firmly.

I stopped my mouth open. What did she mean?

“What…?’ I began but got no further.

But before I could ask, Piers and Ria raced into the room. There was an injured bird cradled in Pier’s hands. A bird with blood on its body and I hastily ended the call.

“What ‘s …’ I cried in alarm but the children were talking together, all at once,

“Someone shot at the bird. We saw it happen,’ screamed Ria, excitedly, ever the Drama Queen, her golden braids waggling wildly.

Her twin was down to earth.

“It fell, ‘said practical Piers flatly, ‘We did not see any shooting.’

‘And,’ he went on scornfully, looking accusingly at his sister,’ the blood is from Philippe. He was trying to rescue the bird when he slipped and fell,’

He murmured scornfully,

“He wanted to show off before Ria as usual.’

I hid a smile. Poor little Philippe worshipped Ria. If she had ordered him to jump off the building he would have rushed to obey her and come back for more orders to be obeyed. My daughter made him do the most outrageous things and when the news reached her father’s ears, she would blithely snuggle up to his broad chest and bat her long lashes at him and say, in a self-righteous tone,

“But Pappa, he could have said NO.’

And dimpling in a way that always brought Lucien to his knees, she would lisp,

“I would have refused if someone asked me to do something silly.’

All I could do was roll my eyes and turn away. The girl was a demon in the making. Lucien’s daughter all over again! And he doted on her.

***

Now, as Piers turned to me solemnly, there was a blind faith gleaming in his blue-grey eyes as he said,

“I told them you would see that the bird got better, Mumma.’ He said it softly.

I smiled and kissed him on his head. Piers and Ria were twins; they were not yet four, but he displayed a pearl of wisdom sometimes that made him seem older. Unlike his hot-headed twin, who acted with her fists and did the thinking later, who could alternatively charm and yet be downright evil when she wished,. Piers was taciturn and dreamy.

Relieved, I set about taking care of the injured bird as best as I could, with the kids, the maids and a wailing Claude in the background all coming to take a look at the traumatised bird… It was only later when we were in the kitchen and I was putting the finishing touches to lunch, that I remembered my weird conversation with Danielle.

Frowning, I tried to get back to her, but she was too busy to answer. My call kept going to voice mail.

A feeling of disquiet pooled n my stomach.

What had she meant?