The Mafia Contract Series

Winter

I have seen Massimo angry before, but nothing like this. We swept from the Capital Room like a cyclone, and I was fearful of what he would do next.

As I sit beside him in the black armor-plated car, he appears deep in thought, and I know better than to distract his attention from that. Hell, I try my best to keep his attention from me, but that’s not always possible. If he’s had a hard day, he likes to take it out on some poor unfortunate chained to the wall in one of his many dungeons. If they aren’t available, it’s my turn to step up and the more time that passes, the more I’m not sure I can cope with it.

As he silently fumes beside me, my thoughts return to Flynn, which is the last thing I want. I have trained my mind to shut them out. Pretend they don’t exist, the men in my life who I would kill to protect. But it’s becoming increasingly harder and seeing Flynn sitting opposite me with a woman who looked so much like my friend Emma, it catapulted me back to a happier time when the only thing I worried about was what would happen after graduation.

I stared down at my plate rather than catch his eye, but they burned into me the whole time. He sounded so self-assured and so together, which surprised me because out of everyone, Flynn found the madness hardest to deal with.

Just hearing his story broke my heart, and it was so painful not to react to that. Pretending to be concerned for Massimo is a tribute to my acting skills, which I credit to one person only. My son.

Everything I do is for him. My suffering is bearable because of him. I exist because of him, and I will not fail because of him.

The brief number of times I have been allowed to visit with him are the best memories of my life and I live for those moments.

One day I will set us both free, but I can’t see how.

What terrifies me the most is that one day I will be seated at the same table in the Capital Room, or one very similar and Alessandro will be sitting across from me holding the hand of the woman he loves. It plays constantly on my mind that we will come across him and I hate that I hope he’s alone.

Just picturing him with someone else tears me apart, and when I look into Frankie’s beautiful eyes, there is so much of Alessandro there.

Part of me hopes I never see him again and yet my heart tells me he is another reason for me to fight. He deserves to know he has a son. Meet him, love him, and protect him. If I can’t be part of that, I will be happy for them. If I fail and my life is ended by the crazed madman beside me, all I hope is that Frankie is with Alessandro, who will love him as hard as I do. Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do and as I caress the treasured memory of him deep in my heart for my pleasure only, I sense my resolve hardening. I can survive this hell on earth. There will be an opportune moment, as Baron told me, and I will kill Massimo Delauren and set us all free.

“You did well tonight, Winter.”

I’m brought back to my reality as his hated voice cuts through the silence and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, darling.”

I project the emotionless voice he loves to hear, and he turns and grins in the dusky light of the car.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.

“Tonight, you may visit your son.”

I’m sure my whole face lights up as I smile so hard, I think I will burst, and he laughs softly.

“Yes, you may sleepover in the nursery tonight because I have a long night ahead.”

His features twist into a violent rage and he hisses, “It’s time to show my best friend what happens when you betray me.”

Normally I would pity the poor unfortunate soul in his sights, but for the first time since coming here, I wish I could be there. Just remembering what that man did to Flynn and his poor mother makes my blood boil like an erupting volcano and it must show in my eyes, because Massimo laughs with pleasure.

“My little wild cat. How I love to see the devil in your eyes, my dear. Perhaps I will let you observe your master at work. Maybe change my mind and cancel the sleepover.”

He laughs even harder at my frantic expression and reaches over and grabs my face in his hands and squeezes it so hard it makes the tears spill from my eyes.

He leans forward and his foul breath sears my senses as he whispers, “But I need no distractions tonight. My perfect little doll will be a mom tonight and then tomorrow I am considering bleaching your hair.”

He releases my face and shakes his head. “Now you have made me mark you, my darling.”

He brushes against my soft skin, looking pained. “I will repair the damage with makeup before you can visit your son. You must be perfect at every hour of the day and night because you know what happens when any of my possessions are soiled?”

I shiver with fear because Massimo likes everything to be always perfect. If he senses a speck of dust in a room, it is completely renovated. If a crumb spills to his floor, he orders a new carpet or rug and I’ve known him to have the tiled floor pulled up and re-laid with new if anything splashes onto it.

Massimo is so afraid of imperfection it always surprises me how much he adores his hobby where he tortures, maims, and kills his victim in the cruelest of ways. Perhaps that’s why he has the dungeons. He likes to enter them naked and there is a shower placed outside that he uses to wash their blood and internal organs from his body.

I imagine he would be a fantastic case study for any shrink, and I hope that one day he gets what he deserves.

We return home and head straight to my dressing room as we always do, and I am resigned to the routine by now.

I wait for instruction, and he says smoothly, “Remove your clothes and stand on the pedestal.”

I have done this so many times it’s no longer embarrassing and as he prowls around me staring at my naked body, I keep a blank expression on my face and act like the living doll he desires.

He makes me sit and brushes my hair one hundred times before applying moisturizer to my body and face. Then he slips a satin nightgown over my shoulders, followed by a matching robe. I step into satin pumps and as he takes my hand, he smiles happily. “Perfect. Just how I like it – for now, anyway.”

I am always conscious I have a shelf life and sense that day approaching like the grim reaper sniffing out another damned soul.

As the door to Frankie’s nursery closes behind our captor, I waste no time in rushing to his crib and staring hungrily into his angelic face. He is getting bigger every time I see him. As I watch him sleep peacefully, his long lashes brushing against his flawless skin, I physically ache to hold him. But he looks like an angel, and I would hate to disturb him and so am content with just inhaling the soft sweet smell of innocence in the middle of hell. Frankie is the lucky one. For now, anyway.

He has a full-time nurse and is cared for like a prince. No expense has been spared, and he has everything a baby could wish for except one thing. His parents. He exists in a gilded cage as yet another one of Massimo’s playthings, and there is so much hatred burning deep inside me for the stolen minutes of watching him grow.

He stirs in his sleep and a small cry escapes his lips and as quick as a flash, I reach for him and hold him close against me, loving how sweet he smells.

As he snuggles into my chest and I hold his delicate head against me, I weep tears of love and frustration that all we are allowed are these stolen moments.

We retreat to the nursing chair and I hold him carefully in my arms, while singing him a soft lullaby to send him off to sleep. I have never felt such pure love for anything before and I will use that love to give me the strength to see this nightmare through to the bitter end.