Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

I rang up Grace.

I knew she would do just about anything for me; we were very close friends now. Grace was Danielle’s partner, a strikingly beautiful Ethiopian. She was a kindergarten teacher and often came home to spend time with me and the kids. Since Danielle worked at the Club and was in charge of all the duties that Shark had carried out before Lucien had killed him, both Gracie and I were familiar with the world that our respective lovers moved in. it was easy to relate to her.

Now I called her:

“Grace, I need your help.’ I said, tightly.

“What is it, love?’ she asked, having picked up on the tension in my tone.

‘ I need to go to the Club. Lucien is fighting …’

Her voice was incredulous.

‘YOU want to attend the Fight?’ she cried, astonishment in her dulcet tones.

I closed my eyes briefly and counted to ten. Grace was aware of my revulsion to the fighting and brutality that took place in the Boxing ring.

‘Yes.’ I said, and the passion in my voice made her pause.

“Right. Fine.’ She said.

And then, after a beat, she asked,

‘Does the Boss know?

I glared at the phone and snapped,

“NO!”

She was silent for a minute. then she sighed and said,

‘I’ll be there.”

***

Sophie

She wandered around, a scowl on her face, holding on to the tray that was suspended from around her neck with bright crimson satin ribbons.

The high heels hurt her. Sophie’s chosen footwear would have been a pair of flip flops. Obviously, she could not wear them when she was at work. Now she stormed about in her shiny black boots. When anyone signalled her to bring them drinks or some nibbles, she would march over to them, a painted, fake smile on her face.

Most of the people did not bother to look at her. Their attention was singularly concentrated upon the action in the Ring.

Everything was on the house tonight, the drinks and expensive food. Sophie’s lips twisted. The room was packed; burly bouncers stood at the massive doors, restricting the entry of those who wanted to enter for free. The fact that the tickets had been exorbitantly priced had not deterred any of these rich folk. They had descended by the hordes, all giggling women on the arms of wealthy men in suits, looking for all the world as though they were out to enjoy a fight in some Roman amphitheatre.

***

Sophie paused and looked around her; she had been given the task of serving the people sitting in the back rows. The front rows, the ringside seats, were the areas that housed the elite, the celebrities and other guests.

Danielle had given the job of serving the ringside seated guests to the girls with the most pleasant disposition; Sophie scowled-read pleasant as being the most welcoming to the guests. The ones who did not mind having their ass patted or pinched; who simpered when they had their boobs groped surreptitiously. They were invariably the ones who sailed home with the maximum tips. Since Sophie did not belong to that category, Danielle had seen fit to put her in the group that served the patrons seated right at the back. These were people who could be easily dismissed even if the girls were not too nice to them.

Now Sophie swatted away the hand of a man who had daringly tried to slide his hand up her fishnet stockinged thigh.

‘Get a life, Grandpa.’ She murmured rudely to the middle-aged man who had dared to touch her. He looked suitably chastised, as she stomped off.

***

One seat right at the front was empty, a ringside seat,

She heard that Delano had wanted to keep the seat for his wife, who was not going to turn up anyways.

His warped idea of love may be, thought Sophie with a smirk.

At least, that was what the girls had been saying. Sophie was a teeny bit curious about the woman who had married Delano. He was like the devil with his cold eyes and his arrogant behaviour.

Rumour was rife that he was now having an affair with the overwhelmingly available Catalina. She was always hanging on to him, touching him in public, so it must be true, thought Sophie.

What would it be like to live with such an unpleasant fellow? She wondered idly, watching as the boxers entered the ring.

***

The first to enter the auditorium was Denizen the Destroyer. He came charging out of his green room, roaring and pumping his fist in the air, challenging anyone and everyone in the hall. His fans rose, giving him a thumping ovation to greet him. The man had on some sort of crown with horns attached to it and his chest was heavily tattooed as were his arms and back.

A huge, swarthy man, at least six feet seven, he was a giant. Leaping over the ropes, he prowled about the Ring, his hands raised, snarling and making animal-like roars at the crowd who seemed to be loving it. In a scarlet satin gown with lace trimming, he was obviously relishing the thought of pounding his opponent to a pulp.

He stopped at each corner of the square ring, thumping his chest, roaring. The audience roared in appreciation. The referee stood, hands on hips, watching silently. A couple of men walked around, checking the gym mats, doing last-minute checks before Lucien Delano emerged.

Sophie chewed a wad of gum and thought,

Some guys never grew up.

*

Lucien.

He was pumped up, waiting for the fight. It had been a long time since he entered the ring.

Schwartz, who stood close by, was as elegantly turned out as ever. In his tuxedo and dinner suit, he looked as suave and handsome as ever before. But Lucien could see the worry, the strain on his handsome face. He was probably thinking of the after-party already, thought Luciendrily.

Briefly, he wished that his wife had come to attend, to watch him. He had given instructions that a ringside seat should be left empty; even if she was not going to attend, he would keep a seat for her. Schwartz had listened as he gave the instructions, whistling aimlessly as he turned away.

Catalina chose that moment to waltz in. The woman was a performer all right, thought Lucien testily. She was in her costume, a sheer bikini that displayed her bloated breasts and the transparent underwear she had on revealed her pubic area prominently.

She had also painted her nipples red.

Lucien felt his anger shoot up.

‘What the f*ck!’ he roared and for a second, she looked uncertainly at him.

Then she threw her arms around him, pressing herself wetly to his body and murmured, rubbing her crotch against him unashamedly, in full view of the horrified Schwartz and his manager, who looked away in embarrassment.

‘Your Ring Girl is at your service, My Lord.’ And then, leaning forward, her breath hot in his face, she added, her narrow eyes glinting greedily,

“All for you, darling, you get it all tonight! Any which way you wish!’

Lucien pushed her away in irritation and turned to his men, who were waiting, impassively.

He pulled on his robe. He was ready.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

***

Proserpina

The room was huge, resounding with noise and in the background, I could hear the muted sound of hip hop. Not muted really but it was just that the sounds of the crowds roaring were way too loud.

The blast of heat that hit us as we walked into the well-lit auditorium made me gag. The stench of various brands of perfume and cologne combined with the rank smell of people, high on adrenalin. One part of my brain was processing this while another was focused on the ring in the centre of the room.

The auditorium had been built like an amphitheatre, and the steps we were standing on took us down to the centre where the boxing had commenced.

I stopped frozen, halting at the top of the stairs as I stared at the scene unfolding before me.

Involuntarily, my hands went to my mouth.

“No, No!’ I said to myself as the man they called Denizen the Destroyer pounded my husband, my lover.

Lucien Delano.