Schwartz
He sat down to dinner at the Delano table, which was his second home, anyways. These days, Lucien Delano was kept busy with the impending opening of his exotic Club in the country and one of the attractions was, of course, the underground Fight Club, which was on a grand scale. Reminiscent of the arenas where gladiators were pitted against each other to participate in a fight unto death, Schwartz had thought, disturbed by the similarity. But the Mafia Don had insisted that he wanted the rawness, the primitive feel brought alive. Schwartz doubted whether his wife would come close to agreeing with the Boss. Proserpina was sensitive and a classy lady, an academician in her own right. How the two stayed together despite their totally different personalities was a mystery that Schwartz had stopped trying to solve.
they were radically different but the sizzling chemistry between the two was incredible. And very much alive.
*
It was late in the evening and Schwartz knew that the Mafia Don was planning to tell his Woman about his decision to inaugurate the Big Fight by entering the ring and participating in a bout against one of the most touted boxers in the world of underground boxing, Joey Walsh.
The entire brood of Delano children had been threatened with dire consequences if word about what their father was up to, reached their Mumma’s ears. So even Tara, who was always the one who opened up and spilled secrets, had managed to remain quiet.
Schwartz sighed. He knew that there would be fireworks and he was not planning to be around when Proserpina exploded. For it was certain that she would go ballistic. She was totally against violence of any kind and only managed to remain sane by shutting off and not thinking about her husband’s profession.
And if she ever found out that Lucien Delano was making a comeback in the ring, she would be livid.
The Mafia Don who had been born and brought up on the seamier side of Hollowford, the son of a prostitute, had grown up surviving by using his fists and his cunning. Today he was the powerful head of the Mob because he had lived by his wits and his fists. Boxing was a passion for him. He had begun his career as an underground fighter, unsurpassed in cruelty and might, in swiftness and foresight. Despite being in his fifties, he was still a force to be reckoned with, on and off the ring.
And his desire to inaugurate the prestigious Fight Club at his newest, most extravagant Club, which pandered to every form of depravity, was not something his wife would welcome with open arms.
*
Handsome James glanced up, his eyes on the woman he could never stop loving but also, the one woman he could never have, Proserpina Delano. Graceful as ever, she moved about, making sure that everyone was comfortable, and attacking the spread she had prepared, before she settled down in her chair to Lucien’s right.
Motherhood became her, he thought wistfully. She was glowing. She had shed the weight she had gained during her pregnancy, he thought admiringly and now that it was two months after her delivery, Proserpina was up and about and back to business. Recently, she attended a seminar at the Big Apple where she had presented a paper. The Don had not been happy when she left; he worried about her safety but sending a literal army of bodyguards with her, had made him feel better.
*
Of course, Schwartz was close enough to the Don to know that the older man was not allowed into his wife’s bed chamber for another couple of weeks.
“Doctor’s orders. That damned old man,’ Lucien had fumed one day while speaking of the doctor as he gulped down a large whiskey, neat as he grappled with his frustration, “thinks I am going to impregnate my Woman right away.’
Watching his friend’s dark, angry face, Handsome James had wisely enough held his tongue.
He knew that the doctor had read the Don’s intentions correctly.
*
Once again, his eyes wandered across to Proserpina. She looked ravishing this evening, dressed in a maternity dress in bright blue, the long sleeves of the baby doll dress and the maternity tights suiting her coloring to a T. The stripes on the dress were made up of tiny hearts, he noticed for when it came to apparel, Handsome James had a very discerning eye. His friend, the Mafia Don, was his complete opposite. A woman’s body under the clothes was all that he had ever cared for and even now, his cold grey-blue wolfish gaze was hungrily fixated on his wife as she moved, smiling, handing the dishes, serving, while she moved around, the gracious mother and wife.
He sniffed appreciatively as he ladled a healthy amount of soup into his bowl. Proserpina had outdone herself this time, he thought as he tasted the Italian wedding soup, which, as she had explained to him once, a long while ago, was called so because of the ‘ marriage of vegetables, pasta and meat’. He sighed as he savored the meatballs in the soup. Simply delicious. And when he opened his eyes, he caught Proserpina looking his way, a small dimpled smile playing on her generous, plump mouth as she watched him. Lucien who had begun to say something, frowned as he caught his wife’s gaze on Schwartz.
But then he went on with his meal.
Philippe entered and everyone looked up and away. He stood for a while, looking embarrassed but Proserpina was up and beside him. Placing her small hand on the youth’s sleeve, she said,
“Philippe, we would like you to join us for dinner.’
No one looked surprised, except Ria who had turned up at the kitchen doorway. She had been with her mother, learning the ropes, so to speak, helping to prepare the food and now she stared slack-jawed at the Capo.
‘Fly alert!’ said Claude with a grin and she glared at him, shutting her mouth.
The Don raised a quizzical brow and said in a flat voice,
‘My Capo deserves to join us when he is in town. Henceforth, he will be here .’
And he looked at his friend, Schwartz.
Which meant, thought Ria, Mumma already knew of the arrangement. She looked up and met her mother’s mischievous smile, eyes twinkling in merriment.
Ria mumbled something and fled into the kitchen. Pressing her hands to her face, she wished she had been wearing something better. Philippe had said he would meet her at dinner; she had thought he would, as always, turn up in the kitchen where they could slip away for a few stolen kisses and indulge in some heavy petting as always. She had even kept a sexy outfit ready for herself to change into after dinner, for when he would come by. She blushed. her hands on her hot cheeks. Beatrice’s nasal voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Aint’ you gonna eat gal? Or is youse goin’ to stay alive on love and fresh air?’ she cackled in relish at her own joke as Ria rushed back, her cheeks burning.
She sank into the chair beside her twin, aware that Claude, damn the fellow, was grinning at her, from ear to ear, from across the table. Her father’s cold gaze descended on her and her Mumma murmured in her soft voice, ‘Pass her the soup, please.’
Ria felt Philippe’s hot eyes on her but she managed to swallow the soup and eat the food although she had no idea what it tasted like. The sounds of her siblings, parents and Uncle James speaking, passed over her in a blur but she was only conscious of the man she loved who sat a little way down the table, closer to her Pappa.