Proserpina
When I realized that he was insanely jealous if anyone dared to look at me, I had been pleased, thinking he really loves me, so he is jealous. That was till the night he took me roughly in the back seat of the car while his security men stood waiting for him to finish pleasuring himself… A light flirtatious remark by a friend of his during the only occasion he had taken me out when I was his mistress, had made him insanely furious and he had forced himself upon me to teach me a lesson.
That humiliating episode was an eye opener. It was probably when I began to see myself through his eyes, and the eyes of the world.
Just a body to be used to satisfy his urges…
But I still continued to love him.
*
When I found out that I was just one in a line of women, put up at a house specifically meant for that purpose, to house his woman of the month, my little world had been shattered. To add to that, an article appeared in a sleazy tabloid with photographs of him openly having s*x with a woman on the beach, his hand fisted in her hair as she took his large manhood in her mouth and pleasured him…
Accompanied as it was with rumours of their getting married in the future, it had broken my heart for he had been studiously ignoring me, avoiding my calls.
And still, I still continued to love him.
To make matters worse, I had discovered that I was pregnant.
Terrified and hurt, I had run away, hiding in Bhutan, and had delivered my twins.
But Lucien had come after me, dragging me back, all the while, callously refusing to believe that the twins were his…
*
Finally, after a DNA test, he had announced his decision to marry me. Without of course, asking me for my opinion, without proposing, he had just made the declaration at the Club before a large audience after taking me to the place where we had first discovered our raging passion for each other.
And that very night, he raped me because he suspected me of carrying on with another couple of men…
My third child had been conceived on that terrible night.
*
Lucien had distanced himself from me and the children after that, preferring to stay away. And all the while, I heard of the women he was sleeping with. My heart was broken further for I still loved him.
*
When he discovered that I was carrying his child again, he was contrite. Later, he confessed that love had made him feel powerless. . I realized that he had been trying to fight his attraction for me, because Lucien Delano did not know how to remain faithful to one woman.
His mother had been a prostitute and a druggie and he hated the thought of being totally powerless, giving up his control.
As for being faithful and loving a woman, those feelings had been alien to him.
Till we met, he admitted, his harsh face dark with turmoil.
*
Later, my husband told me that it was an unfamiliar emotion, this feeling for one person that could be so humbling. Trying to fight this attraction, he had slept around, and drank till he was senseless. But finally, he had come around, admitting his defeat.
I took my time to forgive him but the passion between us was as volatile as ever and soon, we were back together, this time, wholly loving each other.
An attempt on his life, my being kidnapped and almost sold into the flesh trade by his hated rival, all these incidents had only brought us closer together.
Lucien Delano and I now had a large family, six children of our own and the seventh, Paddy, who was adopted.
*
When my hitherto idyllic existence changed gradually, I was taken totally by surprise.
It had begun a few months ago.
At first, I had barely taken note, wrapped as I was in my happy bubble of mundane work, basking in the security of the surety of Lucien Delano’s love for me.
But slowly, I started to notice. The long absences. The ignored phone calls, the curt excuses.
*
Lucien Delano was practically living in the city now, away from our palatial home in the countryside, away me, although I was just a couple of hours away from him. That hurt.
He could easily make the journey to come over for the night as he had done a million times before this. But when I timidly asked him, he snapped a time, forcing me to clam up.
When he did come home, it was mainly to have a quick rushed meal, to change and hurry back. And he was always accompanied by some business associate or the other, which meant that he was always in a hurry to leave.
James Schwartz, his closest friend and mine, had looked at me in sympathy when I blurted out my misgivings but all he had said was,
“Hen,’ for Schwartz was actually a Scotsman, and that was his term of endearment for me, ‘hen, now don’t you fret about it. The Boss is just very busy. He is expanding his business.’
But from the way his eyes slid away, I knew that there was more to it. James was a hopeless liar.
*
As for Danielle, who was in charge of the club, she had her hands full. She was always the one who came to me and informed me if she saw something out of the way but with Lucien having opened up another club in another city close by, she was busy and how! Her partner, Grace, was an educational consultant these days, zipping across the country, and attending conferences. Gone were the days when they would drop in for coffee and leave after dinner, I thought with a sigh.
Luckily, I had Melissa Lord, the petite young woman whose husband, Tristan, had played a vital role in rescuing me when I had been kidnapped years ago. We were around the same age and got on famously. She met me regularly and was a close friend. She was the senior teacher at my triplets’ school too.
My friend from the days when I had first met my Mafia Don, was Jeannie. A scientist and researcher now, she was into one project or the other but we remained in touch.
*
But Lucien’s behaviour was bothering me.
We had not slept together in more than two months now, and that was saying something for a man like Lucien Delano with his untiring appetite for sexual satisfaction. I longed for the nights when he would take me, almost all night long till I was sore and barely able to walk in the morning and he would simply smile slightly and come to me again in the afternoon, to bury himself in me…
These days, I slept alone in the massive bed, staring , wide-eyed, at the world outside till the grey dawn. My insecurities were quick to rise to the surface in those weak moments, yet I tried to tell myself that he was still faithful, he would not sleep with another woman.
A little voice within me , mocked me.
“Are you sure about that?’ it taunted.
And I had no reply.
*
On the occasions when I managed to waylay him when he came home, he would become stiff and unresponsive when I hugged him and kissed him.
‘What is wrong?’ I asked one day in hurt and confusion when he had all but thrust me away the last time as he dressed and I had tried to wind my arms around him. Lucien’s glacial eyes met mine in the mirror, his face a cold, hard mask. The grey-blue eyes were cold as I stood, my arms wrapped around myself, puzzled.
‘I have work, Woman,’ he snapped and it made me annoyed.
But I knew better than to anger him when he was irritated. So instead I said,
‘You never come home at night…’ I sighed softly, trying again and he glanced at me, a sharp look through his narrowed, flint grey eyes, cold and unyielding. He looked remote and frightening, not like the man I had shared my bed with just a few months back. This was a stranger who seemed to loathe me.
‘ Why are you behaving like a bit*h in heat? You need to control your lust, woman,’ he said cruelly, thrusting me away and I stumbled back, in shock and hurt.
‘You are growing older. Stop behaving like a wh*re waiting to be satisfied by any c*ck.’ he said, his eyes skimming over me dismissively, making me feel dirty and cheap.
*
I stepped back in shock.
Could this be the same man who could never keep his hands off me? The passionate lover who had pounded me with his manhood all night long during our romantic getaway just three months ago?
His words stung.
His gaze swept over my white face but he did not respond.
Moving away, he left the room, adjusting his jacket, without another word.
I stood there, too stunned to cry, too overwhelmed to move. Not even a kiss, not a touch…
Could my lover have grown tired of me? I asked myself miserably, sinking to the ground, as I heard the sound of his vehicles leaving the grounds.
For I was not one of those glamorous, reed-thin women who threw themselves on him at the Club. I was more of an academician, tending to plumpness and happiest when I was in the kitchen, dishing out some exotic recipe…