Owning the Mafia Don

Proserpina

“Don’t mind her. Our Ivica is a strange one.” murmured the cashier looking vaguely annoyed as she began to return the old woman’s purchases to the counter.

“Where does she live?” asked Aiyana, curiously.

“Oh, by the river, far into the woods.” the woman sighed in exasperation and went on.

“She lives alone with her father-in-law, a crazy old man. Not that she’s any less eccentric.”

And she continued, oblivious to our heightened interest as she chattered away,

“Doesn’t come down very often does our Ivica. But lately, she has been buying a lot of food. Too much for two people, I would say.”

She smiled and turned.

“Now, how can I help you?”

*

Phillippe had darted out of the shop and had bounded after the bus. But it had already trundled off.

The two teenage girls who had been making eyes at him in the store stood around, leaning on their bicycles, giggling and gossiping. Without waiting to think, he darted across to them and said,

“Please, can I have your bike?” he cried breathlessly to the girl with her hair in long braids and blue eyes. She turned in astonishment but the smaller one took one look at him and said,Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“Take mine.”

With a dimpled grin at her, he raced up the hill like a madman, cycling furiously to catch up with the bus. The expression on their faces was similar; wonderstruck by this good-looking young boy with broad shoulders and the lop-sided grin with dimples, who was cresting the hill with such speed, that it made them gasp in wonder.

The two girls stood watching him even as Toth’s men rushed up.

“Where is he going?’ shouted one but the girl who had lent her bike turned up her nose at them and ignored the beefy-looking thugs.

*

Schwartz, Aiyana and Proserpina stared in astonishment and then, Schwartz turned to the cashier,

“Since when has she been visiting you …er…more frequently?”

The chatty woman stared at them, fear dawning on her face as she became aware that something was not quite right.

“Ever since, ever…” she stammered.

Proserpina leant forward, urgency and pleading in her voice as she whispered,

“Please,” she whispered intently, “Please, it is important. It could be a matter of life and death.”

The woman thought for a while. Then she began,

” A few weeks ago, maybe a month. I asked if she had visitors because she bought a…

she bought a man’s shirt, the biggest size in the shop. Two shirts, actually…”

The woman could not stop blabbering now.

‘”nd I know Gustav’s size is Small.”

She shook her head sadly as she kept the last of the provisions back on the rack neatly.

” He has shrunk with age and ill health. The last time she bought clothes for him was for Christmas two years ago. So I knew that…”

“Does the priest come here with her?” asked Aiyana interrupting her flow of words rudely.

The woman’s face took on a look of dislike. It was obvious that she did not like the priest.

“Father Paval?” she shook her head vigorously. ” There is no place in my shop for the likes of Him. Always going on about Hell and Damnation. My husband says…”

They never got to know what her husband said because Aiyana grabbed Proserpina’s arm, propelling her to the door as Schwartz followed them, grim-faced.

“Lets’ go!” he cried as the same thought struck them at the same time.

*

The monk stepped out after meeting Dusak, who was safely ensconced in a small apartment that he had taken on lease from one of his trusted, loyal men.

A believer.

As he emerged onto the square, he saw the three people he had seen earlier, the irritating people who were searching for Lucien Delano, going almost door to door in search of him.

They were leaving, and he heaved a sigh of relief. But as the car swept past him, he saw the white-faced people inside and knew that some momentous thing had happened.

Increasing his stride, he hurried down the road.

He had to find out.

*

Ivica sat in the bus, hyperventilating.

Proserpina was here. The woman whom Stefan had been gabbling about in his delirium, PROSERPINA, had discovered that Stefan, HER Stefan, had come back to be with his wife!

And the hussy with the brown eyes and that brown hair, the melting voice that ad probably ensnared poor foolish Stefan…She was HERE?

Looking for him!

Ivica took a deep breath and glared at the other passengers. No one dared to sit beside her. For one thing, she smelled to high heaven. Then again, she had a crazed look about her. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and the thick line of hair on her upper lip made her look maniacal. People avoided her and smiled hesitantly when she said something to them.

Now she looked more threatening than ever, her face red with the exertion of having run out of the shop, the anger and the fear coursing through her making her look wilder than ever before.

She wanted to scream at the bus driver for coursing so leisurely up the hill, along the road. She wanted to shout and rant at the unfairness of it all.

Ivica wanted to throttle the plump neck of the bus driver, who was chatting amicably with a middle-aged woman who sat near the door.

Finally, she stood up and swaying dangerously, she approached the driver.

“Sit down, Ivica,” pleaded someone urgently, but she fixed the unfortunate man with such a fierce glare, he shrank back in terror.

“Cannot you go any faster?” She shouted and the driver glanced at her warily.

He slowed down.

“This is your stop, isn’t it?” he said faux-cheerfully but she had already pushed past and was out of the bus and running, slipping and sliding down the slope in her haste to get to her Stefan.

Slapping at the overhanging branches as she hurried down the path, the leaves and twigs lying in the snow squelched as she walked.

She spoke to herself,

“You will not get him.’ she thought angrily,

”You will not get him. He is MINE.’

*

Philippe coasted down the hill and saw the old woman leap from the bus. He was still a distance away, too far away for her to see. Quickly, he laid the bicycle down and set off after the woman, running. He was going to find out what had made her run the way she had when she heard that they had come looking for a man. The name Proserpina had made her react like a scalded cat.

Now he crept along. He could make out her figure in the faded red coat she wore, and he followed her at a distance, taking care to hide in the undergrowth, keeping out of her line of vision.

*

Lucien and the old man, Gustav, looked up as the doorway darkened. Ivica had returned.