Proserpina
The feeling of déjà vu that struck me as I stood in the cool, tiled bathroom that morning was so strong, I felt like I was back in the past.
I had missed my period again.
And the tiny strip I held in my hands proved that my worst fears had come true.
Lucien had gotten me pregnant again. It had happened on the night when he had taken me so brutally in the Red Room, I realised bitterly.
With everything that was going on in my life, I had possibly pushed it to the back of my mind, the niggling feeling of weariness that had persisted.
And from the sheer exhaustion I had been feeling, the nausea I had dismissed as emotional trauma, I knew that the signals had been clearly there. My body had been shouting out trying to tell me what my mind had been suppressing with a vengeance.
To be honest, I had been too preoccupied to take notice. Trying to shut out my feelings for Lucien had made me immerse myself in my work. During the daytime, I spent as much them as I could with my twins. Sita was like a person who shadowed us, generally good company but not really either a companion or a teacher for my kids. And when I wasn't dishing up elaborate stuff in the kitchen for my eager kids, I was working till the wee hours of the night.
Yes, I had been very busy indeed; so busy that I had ignored my body's warning signs.
The tenderness of my breasts, the strong reaction I had when I saw the meat dishes on the table or prepared something that involved meat, the way I had to rush to the washroom to throw up when I was done with preparing Ria's hamburgers the way she wanted them, just so...why had I not put two and two together, I asked myself in despair.
It must have been on the night we had spent in the Red Room, I thought wearily, leaning my head against the mirror as I did the calculations.
I thought of the night he had used me so roughly, the night before we had legally got married.
At one time, he had ridden me without using any protection. There had only been a desire to subjugate me and when he had run through the stack of condoms discreetly provided, he had been too far gone to prevent himself from emptying his seed into my willing, fertile womb.
The face that stared back at me from the large mirror was haggard looking with dark circles under eyes the colour of coffee. The small pointed nose, the full lips that were turned down at the corner. Like a woman who had forgotten how to laugh, I thought sadly.
I sank down onto the edge of the bathtub, the sobs escaping me.
What could I do now?
***
Lucien
Schwartz stared at Lucien in undisguised irritation as Shark watched sullenly from the window overlooking the car parking area. They were in their den in the club and Lucien had begun drinking although it was just a little after mid-morning.
'Man, you're going to be dead drunk by the time the Chinese get here!' snapped the lean man with the green eyes, Schwartz.
Ever since he had witnessed first-hand the way Lucien ignored his own children and his base treatment of his wife, Schwartz had been curt to him in private.
Gulping down the drink, Lucien turned to glare at his friends and business partners through eyes that were bleary and red.
He had not been sleeping well.
The knowledge that Dmitri was watching his family made him irritable and angry. He took refuge in his drink.
The guilt he was carrying around was also growing with each day. He could not get the image of the stricken-looking girl woman he had left, her shirt ripped, her luscious body exposed as he had left her, teetering on the edge of desire. After that evening, he had not returned to his home.
For the first time in his life, he cared for someone. The thought left him perturbed, and uneasy.
"I'll be fine, you know that!' he said thickly, his hand reaching out for the bottle of whiskey.
It was Shark who spoke this time. subdued but firm.
"Brother, you need to be clear-headed. You know how those Chinese dudes are!'
Wiping a heavy hand over his face, Lucien winced as his fingers touched the cut on his cheek which was healing. The little vixen had drawn blood, he thought reflectively, rubbing the welt.
He stood up, deciding against another drink, and nodded heavily.
Rubbing his hands together, he said,'
'Right, let's go over this once again...'
The gathering proceeded successfully. Even with a throbbing headache, Lucien stayed composed, fending off the visitors' attempts to dominate. As usual, Shwartz acted as the conciliatory figure, preventing the situation from escalating. Lucien, typically blunt, resisted the cunning strategies of the Chinese trying to penetrate his territory, yet they ensured no offense was taken. The scheme was straightforward: Shark had a group of women prepared to entertain the guests all night long.
Shark exited the room, giving a wink to his companions as he did, his hand resting on the backside of an escort guiding the visitors to the Red Room. Lucien took another hefty sip. He had not been back to the Red Room since that terrible night. The memory of how he had wronged his wife still filled him with disgust. His jealousy, possessiveness, lust, combined with misplaced, selfish anger and alcohol had transformed him into a beast that evening, and he constantly chastised himself for his abusive actions.
Now, Shwartz lifted his glass of Scotch to his lips and spoke thoughtfully,
"My new condo, the one by the lake, is finally finished. I'm hosting a party on Friday. Just a few longtime friends."
He turned to face Lucien directly and said,
"I want you to bring your wife along with you."
In silence, Lucien examined his drink, swirling it, appearing lost in the hues of the deep liquid.
But his friend was no idiot. He waited, taking sips of his drink, and after some time, Lucien grumbled with jealousy,
"Why do you want her to join?"
He realized that his genuine fear of putting his family at risk of Dmitri's forces was the primary reason for his hesitation.
However, his friend didn't understand his concerns. Shaking his head in frustration, Shwartz exclaimed,
"That poor girl rarely leaves the palace you've confined her to!"
Then, he continued, more diplomatically, a regretful smile on his attractive face,
"Please indulge me, Delano. You can have Sita come with the children. I assure you, they'll all be safe."
Lucien grunted.
"Ask her yourself," he said tersely, standing up and moving toward the door as he headed to his usual rooms in the club. His strong shoulders were tense as he walked, contemplating Shwartz's words, though reluctantly.
His friend watched him leave thoughtfully.
***
That palace to which you've confined her...
Those words echoed repeatedly in his mind as he stretched his muscular body and reclined on the large bed, exhausted and in a drunken haze. Yet, his thoughts kept replaying how he had harmed Proserpina.
It filled him with disgust.
A sudden urge to see her prompted him to rise from his bed. Shouting orders into the phone, he stood and quickly changed. By the time he reached the ground floor, the driver and his men were prepared and waiting. For the party attendees at the club—the individuals involved in various dubious activities—the night was still young, he thought dryly as he walked out with his associates surrounding him.
Upon arriving home, he gave a nod upon seeing Tony Beston, who appeared unbothered by his sudden entrance.
Sita Kumar showed up at the door, as vigilant and observant as always.
She nodded at him, recognizing his presence before moving towards the children's room. Her room was strategically positioned opposite theirs, placed right next to them.
***
He ascended the stairs. His yearning to see Proserpina overcame his hesitation to disturb her, and he peeked into his wife's room. The door was slightly open and the lights remained on. She was asleep, her arm stretched over her head, her hair in a tangled braid.
She had been working until she fell asleep, he thought, a sense of affection enveloping him. The laptop was open next to her, her reading glasses and several books spread and scattered around.
He entered and stood, gazing at her, feeling a sense of calm within himself.
This was his woman, this diligent beauty, and a bit of a fighter. He knew she was a remarkable mother and he secretly admired her for it. Having never experienced a mother's love, he felt curious and somehow deprived.
Suddenly, Proserpina moaned and rolled over in her sleep, her soft lips parted.
Resisting the desire to lie beside her and hold her, he carefully closed the laptop and pulled the comforter over her knees.
As he turned to depart, she stirred.