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Chapter 5: Taken by the DON

Proserpina

Soon, I turned nineteen. There had been moments when I had wanted to shyly mention that to Lucien. But each time, he seemed impatient to get away quickly once his powerful sexual urges had been satisfied. My poor, proud heart could not stop him. My body could only hold him captive for a few hours...

Later in my life, while I was living in the hills of Bhutan, I often asked myself why I had continued to live with him for so long—almost for a year and a half.

It was a chance reading of an article in a magazine that a friend had kindly lent me when I was in the mountains that opened my eyes to the reality I had refused to see in my youthful madness.

The author, a well-renowned psychologist, explained how every girl and every woman has a secret fascination for the Bad Boy and likes to believe that it is in her destiny to make him a Good man!

Years later, as I sat there amidst the silence of nature, I saw things as they had been with razor-sharp, brutal clarity. In my foolishness, I had imagined that I would be able to tame him and be the One to transform him.

How wrong I was!


A few weeks later, I came home to find Ana sniffling in the kitchen. She had been waiting for me; she generally made it a point to leave before I returned from university. Only Jamie, the bodyguard who doubled as a gardener, remained in the house at night. And he remained in the quarters behind the house.

As I started up the stairs to the small, cozy bedroom I had claimed as mine, she came out of the kitchen, her face red and swollen. Alarmed, I stopped and stared at her.

"Liletta Gomez, my cousin; she's been deported. Back to Mexico." She announced it bitterly.

So saying, she broke down in a flurry of tears while I stared at her in bewilderment.

It took me a moment to understand that she was talking about the woman who had worked here before her.

I wasn't happy about it, but I simply couldn't bring myself to feel sorry either. The woman had taken a dislike to me simply because I was living with Lucien.

She looked up at me, her narrow eyes like slits, and whispered,

"The Master. He did it."

That had me frowning as it took me a while to comprehend what she meant. And then,

"LUCIEN?" I cried in astonishment, shaking my head in disbelief,

"No! He wouldn't!" I defended him sharply.

She shook her head, teary-eyed, blowing her nose, and went on, pityingly,

"He a dangerous man, the Mafia Don Delano. But you are a nice girl although foolish, too innocent for him. He will destroy you."

When she reached out to clutch my arm, I stepped away in fright, shaken by her words and the sincerity in them.

Without looking back, I bounded up the stairs and slammed the door, leaning against it, panting.

The thoughts revolved in my head.

Had she called Lucien a Mafia Don?

Was that what he was?

A gangster?

Could she be lying?

But slowly, fitfully, the pieces began to fall into place. His reluctance to be questioned, the obvious wealth he had…the gun-toting men who followed him around like well-trained dogs, his own cruel nature that was barely held in check…

It was nearly morning when I fell asleep, my heart heavy.


On the day of my birthday, I woke up heartbroken and low-spirited. As I lay in bed staring at the beautiful blue sky, I thought of how the previous year, the girls, Rachel and Tanya, had taken me out for lunch; we'd spent time doing girlie things after they had gotten completely sozzled. I had my fruit punch, which they had sp***d. But this year, I was all alone in the house, except for a sullen housekeeper and a taciturn bodyguard hovering around.

The bodyguard, Jamie was a large man, all muscles. He must have been close to Lucien's age. On occasion, I had seen him look at me sometimes with a frown, at times in pity, but he had never spoken to me directly about anything but work-related matters.

As I sat in the kitchen that morning, having a bowl of cereal, I looked at my phone longingly; dare I call my friends?

Lucien had not come over last night or the night before that.

When I had sadly explained that I didn't want to go to college that day as it was my birthday, Jamie had raised his eyes to look me full in the face, maybe for the first time. A little later when he came to the kitchen, he had said almost offhandedly that the Boss wasn't in the country

I looked at him, my heart dropping; somehow I had hoped that Lucien would turn up.

Perhaps taking pity on me, Jamie mentioned that the Boss was away, out of the country. Ukraine or Azerbaijan, he had added reluctantly when I had looked at him, pleadingly.

I headed upstairs, dragging my feet.

A sudden desire to see someone, anyone; I picked up the phone and dialled my aunt.

"Who's this?" came Uncle's sharp, nasal twang, and with a sinking heart, I realized that he had recognized the dialling code; knew it was from Hollowford. From me.

"Uncle...," I stammered, regressing into the scared young girl I had been- not that I was any different now, I reflected bitterly.

Á string of abuses flowed over the line and I clutched the phone in horror. Barely aware of what he was saying, I recoiled from the hate, the revulsion in his voice.

'"..Jezebel! Don't you dare call us again!' he shouted," Living in sin with a gangster who's old enough to be your father! You are like your mother. A Shameless Wh**e !"

He spat at me at the end and I reeled, the tears flowing unchecked.

Sinking to the floor, I wrapped my arms around my knees and wept.

Wept for the life I had dreamt of.

Wept for what I had become.

Wept for the fact that I loved Lucien so deeply whereas for him, I was just a body to satisfy his lust.

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