LucienHe held his woman as she doubled over in pain, a pain so great that she was screaming, sobbing. And her fingernails dug into his arms as she struggled to fight the pain that was wracking her body, causing her to gasp wildly.‘Water…’ she cried and he held the jug of iced water to her lips once ore but this time, she shook her head, smiling slightly through the pain, amused at his foolishness.‘Lucien…my water… My Water...’He stared at her blankly. What the f*k was she talking about? Almost incoherently, she moaned, unmistakably in great pain now, as she gasped,’’Call…get the doctor, Lucien. My water has broken…’And then he noticed the puddle of water between her legs. Her dress was wet too and herealized in horror that it was something to do with the child in her womb. She was going into labor, way before the full term of their child. His body went cold with fear as he noticed the way her eyes were shut, her pallor, white and bloodless…She was breathing with difficulty, an
The MonkHe sat back, his fingers steepled as he smiled to himself. Truly, the ways of God were strange, he thought as he smiled maliciously.He had heard of what had transpired at the house of Lucien Delano; it always paid to have moles in the opposite camp. Paid spies. And sometimes, threatening them, made them ferret out information for the monk with alacrity.Now he rubbed his hands together as he stood up and began to pace about the room. Seven steps one way, seven steps the other way. Back and forth he went, as he calculated, humming a hymn to himself tunelessly as he walked.Either way, he stood to win. If Delano’s wife died, it would be a massive blow to him; if the wife survived and the child died, well, would his family stand with him, and support him?There would be blame that would be hurled at Lucien, the Mighty Delano!The monk chuckled, an evil sound. His men looked around. It never meant good if the old man laughed.*Ria.She stared at the door in trepidation as the s
RiaThe moment they entered the hospital, the smell of disinfectant and medicines hit her nostrils and Ria winced.They were led, flanked protectively by the men, to the hall facing the Operation Theatre. There were no patients around and Ria wondered fleetingly what her father had done with them. The sound of their heels clicking on the polished tiles was the only sound and the low hum of the machinery. The place was almost deserted except for…‘Pappa…’ said Ria softly. Her father sat alone, on a couch, his grey hair ruffled as though he had been rifling his hands through it, his face was grey and gaunt and she felt a deep feeling of remorse swamp her. If anyone had had any doubts about whether the great Don loved his wife, this was proof, this bleak look in his normally fierce hawk-like gaze, the emptiness staring out of his eyes as he looked at them, uncomprehending. Even his powerful muscular body seemed smaller and with a sob, she ran to him. She did not want to see her Pappa, he
The doctor stepped out of the theatre tiredly, exhaustion on his face. He looked at the sea of anxious faces in the waiting room and the lobby, the Mafia Don and his immediate family, six children or was it seven, he thought as he rubbed his forehead wearily, and a host of other people including a number of men who were obviously the Don’s guards.All of them had turned, as one, to look at him. He could see the fear, the way the elder children watched him with bated breath. And he thought of the young woman inside the operation theatre he had just left, who had fought so valiantly, despite going into a preterm labor which had in all probability, been brought on by stress.He sighed as the Mafia Don strode to him, his expression enough to make anyone feel alarmed. The doctor discreetly took a few steps back but he was not frightened, just cautious, he told himself.“She is ok, your wife is still unconscious but the surgery went off well.’ He said it quickly and felt vindicated when he
Two years ago ‘Hey kid,’ said the voice from the other side of the hostel room, in the usual mocking tone that I had come to dread. I sighed as I turned to look at my roommate, Marianne Weston. A blonde with a figure like a model’s, tall and slim, who hated me for no reason that I could fathom. Except perhaps that I was so different from her—I came from a small town and was not wealthy, perhaps? As always, she was lounging on her bed, looking like a million dollars, a cigarette dangling from her perfectly manicured hand. * Right, let me introduce myself: I’m Proserpina Martinez, from a small town named Annabel’s Run, and I had to literally scrape through to earn my scholarship to get into one of the best universities in the neighbouring big city of Charlesville. My roommate’s parents were rich, and that would be an understatement. They fawned on their beautiful, spoilt daughter, lavishing her with presents that were ridiculously expensive, which she discarded as easily as used
The inside was a total surprise.The walls were draped with lengths of cloth, deep red and black and I felt a twinge of unease. From the distance, for we were in a dimly lit corridor, I could hear the sound of music, muted but definitely loud, and I trotted along the dimly lit corridor, behind the girl who had brought me here, although she was barely acknowledging me now. We passed a few men well dressed and sophisticated-looking, who glanced at me disdainfully, as though I was trash. I felt their eyes linger on my breasts and jogged forward quickly. Marianne was waiting impatiently at a door and she flung me a cool look as she entered, pushing past the bouncers who stood guard. Instantly, we were assailed by music, the smell of sweat and smoke, the fragrance of assorted perfumes and alcohol, and the sounds of…fists on flesh? I almost drew back in horror. But my companion, devious as she was, must have sensed my fear. She turned and gripped my wrist, her nails digging in as she hi
We entered a small cage like an elevator hidden by heavy red drapes that whisked us upstairs. All the while the man kept me imprisoned, his large hand trapping my arm painfully behind my back and I breathed shakily. I glanced fearfully at the man and his companions, with their blank faces, who were behaving as though it was normal for their boss to whisk a girl into an elevator and drag her to some unknown destination. Suddenly, we were upstairs and I blinked, completely disoriented by the change of scene. The entire corridor we had emerged into, was carpeted richly, in dull browns and maroon, the wood-panelled walls giving it a classy finish. Doors led off from the corridor but every wooden door was shut. The silence was also a sophisticated one, I thought hysterically as he dragged me along. It was entirely different from the raw, almost violent atmosphere of the large fighting club we had just left. The sights, the smells of that virile, primitive place were preferable to this co
Aunt Beth had always said that I was bad at telling lies. The man moved closer and I saw that his nose had been broken at some point in time and had healed but not too well. It gave him a frightening look, the thin, well-defined lips that were set in a firm line, those grey eyes that looked as though he could see into my soul. The scarred and pitted face. Ugly but commanding. His presence was unsettling; I wanted to keep my distance but like a moth, I felt drawn to him. Breathing shakily, I stepped back again and came up against the wall as he prowled closer, crowding me in. he was not very tall, but definitely bigger than me. But it was the breadth of his shoulders, the way he was built like a bull, that made me hold my breath. He smiled, a sinister, humourless twist of that beautiful mouth. And then he slammed his hands, palms first, on the wall beside my face and I jumped as I gasped, turning away, squeezing my eyes shut. His breath, whiskey-laden and hot, was on my face as he