BETRAYED BY THE MAFIA DON

April

I stirred, wondering why someone was yelling.

No, shouting in rage.

Gaston?

I tried to sit but there was something heavy on me, a body on me, as I blinked and managed to finally peer, I saw, in growing horror, that it was a man who refused to move.

I pushed hard and managed to sit up, realizing,, belatedly in some shock, that I was naked.

Pulling the sheet up to cover my exposed breasts, I tried to keep my eyes open as I found that I was in an unfamiliar room.

With a man who was equally naked, and who I recognized slowly. The shaved head, the goatee, and above all, the dark , ugly look in is eyes and the smile, thin and sneering.

Stan Cummington?

Bree’s fiancé?

Bree Jackson, Gaston’s long lost sister who had turned up like a bad penny one day, with her muscular, sneering fiancé, Stan Cunningham in tow.

My skin crawled every time I met the black eyes, with a hint of maliciousness in them.

*

What am I doing here? I whispered, looking around in bewilderment. It was a cheap hotel room.

And that was when I became aware of people crowding into the room, Gaston standing in the room, his face like thunder, angrier than I had ever seen him before. With him was his sister Bree, the thick-set woman with eyes like Gaston. But there the resemblance ended. She was shrieking a string of vulgar obscenities and it dawned on me that they were abuses she was flinging at me!

Uncomprehending, I blinked and looked at Gaston, wordlessly appealing to him to understand, to help me. My mouth tasted awful, like I had swallowed sandpaper and I hurt all over.

“..Gaston..Gaston…” I whispered through my cracked lips. But the expression on my lover’s face was fearsome.

***

And then, Bree had launched herself on me., pulling my hair, screaming, slapping scratching.

Dazed and dull, my senses heavy and trying to work my way out of the fog around my brain, I managed to curl into a ball, protecting my face, my chest, enduring the pain.

“Stop, her Pappa, stop her, PLEASE!!!” came my daughter’s voice and I looked around, my eyes streaming, trying to call Gaston to help me. But my Master was standing frozen, his face like granite, fists clenched.

I shut my eyes giving in to the blows raining down on my back, my face, the stinging slaps, the nails raking cruelly across my body.

Gaston was not going to help me, I thought numbly.

Suddenly, Bree was hauled away and another pair of hands gripped my arms, shaking me like a rag, even as I clutched the sheet over my poor bruised body, trying to hide my nakedness. My head wobbled like that of a broken doll’s on a stem as my lover thrust his furious face into mine and thundered at me.

“You f*cking WH*RE!” roared Gaston St Claire, my husband and I shrank back in bewilderment and shock.

Bringing his face closer to my terrified one, he snarled, in a lower voice filled with anguish and fury,

“So it was true, eh? You wh*re, you were sneaking behind my back, spreading your legs and opening your wet pus*y for other men, huh?"

I shook my head, trying to focus, trying to plead, the shock spreading through me slowly.

What was he talking about? I had no idea how I had gotten there, to that seedy looking room, how I had ended up beneath Stan Cummingham, naked and semi conscious.

Other men?

My head was pounding, my tongue was thick, and I could only manage a croak. I could taste blood, and my left eye was swollen from Bree’s assault.

Gaston St Claire seemed to become increasingly outraged by my slobbering and confused look.

Without warning, he thrust me away with an expression of disgust with such immense force, that I fell to the ground in a heap, tasting blood, frantically hugging the sheet to my body. But he was not done with me.

Lucien towered over me, jerking me to my feet, his fist in my hair, as he hissed,

“And I loved you, you sl*t!”

I heard the pain and anguish in his voice, and I tried to plead, my head hurting, eyes streaming. I cupped my hands together before me, begging him to understand, but that only enraged him further. Gaston was a violent man, and my abject imploring only heightened his anger.

My lover and the father of my eight children flung me down in revulsion, and I hit my shoulder on the edge of the table, causing me to scream out in pain.

“SHE WAS CHEATING ON YOU, Gaston!” came Bree’s hysterical voice, and I saw her approaching, preparing to kick me, raising her evil-looking black stilettoes, her face florid and ugly.

‘You wanted a younger stud, you oversexed wh*re, how dare you cheat on MY BIG BROTHER? HOW DARE YOU TRY TO STEAL MY MAN!”

Terrified, I cringed, babbling,

“No, no, no!”

I tried to raise my arms to protect myself as I lay on the ground, a mass of pain.

But then, my sons were before me. One of them tugged me to my feet gently, wrapping me in a sheet, hiding my nakedness. I buried my face in Claude’s chest, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Claude, I don’t…I did not…” I sobbed softly, my eyes pleading with him to believe me.

“Sssh…Mumma.’ he said lovingly, his eyes burning with hate as he raised his head and pinned Bree with his eyes, “ We know , we know you…”

Ria and Piers stood before me, protectively, facing Gaston who looked crazed and wild.

Bree sank her head on my husband’s shoulder as she sobbed, sagging into his arms.

“She’s a two-timing bit*h, Gaston! She cheated on you and stole my fiancé, the promiscuous, over-sexed wh*re. Kill her, Gaston, KILL HER!!!”

I shook my head, looking at him beseechingly, my left eye swollen shut,

” No, No Gaston… Believe me…please…” I whispered, and he snarled and made to leap at me.

But Claude hugged me to his big chest, his big body shuddering in reaction as he lowered his head and placed his chin on my hair.

“Mumma comes with us,” Piers announced coldly.

Bree turned to Lucien, her smoky grey-blue eyes narrowing into slits of rage,

‘Gaston St Claire, if you weren’t my brother, I would rip that wh*re’s hair out…” she snarled, trying to get to me.

My Mafia Don clenched and unclenched his thick fists, his bloodshot eyes on me, lethal and condemning. I felt the world give way just as I saw the malevolent look Bree shot me before I lost consciousness.

My last thought was, “This has to be a bad dream, none of this is real…”