The Mafia Don's Little Plaything

Cassandra 

Many people claim to meet death in person once in their lifetime. But I am currently staring at death in the face. You know your time is up when the Don of DeMarco family visits you. I’ve heard about him from random whispers, from hushed voices of people that don’t dare to speak aloud. Luca, the lord of the underworld, is in my house. And he just killed my brother. I think I’m about to hyperventilate. 

I look at the blood in my hands, shaking and petrified at the sight in front of me. 

“No, no,” I whisper, in a daze, as if doing so would turn the hands of time. As if the large slit on my brother’s neck would magically disappear. My eyes are blurred, salty tears flowing down uncontrollably on my cheeks. 

“Damen, Damen, wake…up,” I whisper for the umpteenth time. I can feel the men watching me, and I briefly wonder why I’m not dead yet. 

“Take her and tie her to the chair she's next to," Don Luca suddenly says, and I freeze. Tears come in hiccups, despite the gnawing fear that threatens to envelop me. Tension hangs in the air, and I swallow hard. 

"Little thing,” he advances towards me, hands tucked in pockets, looking like the devil descending from hell. “I’ll say it one time, and one time only. I want my fucking diamonds. You’re his sister, so you must know where they are.” He says. I take a sneak peek at his hardened jaw, and an unwanted heat pools between my legs. I am ashamed at how I’m reacting to him. I don’t relate with the male gender that much, so the sensation I’m feeling is so confusing. I want to run away from him, run so far away where he can never find me. Yet, I want to crawl into his arms and run my fingers on his scar. I spot a knife which he accepts from one of his underlings, and fear hitches up my spine.

“Sir, please,” I stutter in a voice that barely qualifies as a whisper. “I don't know anything about diamonds… my brother never mentioned anything about them to me,” I say, shaking, and hoping I sound convincing. 

In a flash l see lightning and stars as l am slapped on my cheek by one of his men. Wild punches and kicks follow. I slammed hard to the ground crouching like a little baby as the pain shoots straight through my whole body like a thousand needles. 

“Just kill me, and end this whole fucking misery,” l beg in a small shaky voice. Big. Mistake.

He looks at me and smirks like l had said something funny. “Little girl, or should I address you as little miss Cassandra Gupta?” He mocks. “If I kill you, how will l find the diamonds you stole huh?” He kneels down to my level and looks straight into my weary glossy eyes. His eyes had a burning fire of rage and bitterness. 

The first born child of the late Mighty Dermaco, one of the most feared gangsters in Russia and in fact the whole of Europe. As to how my brother got involved with these men remains a mystery. If l’m not in this unfortunate circumstance, l would classify Luca as a god. It is baffling how someone can be otherworldly handsome, yet cruel and wicked. 

But now all l see is a monster with a cold heart, raging for blood and war if I may say. The Dermaco family was one of the crime families here in Europe and they own a lot of territories in the coast making them the most powerful family. 

“You killed my brother,” I dare to cry, my voice harboring so much hatred. “You killed him!” 

He was the only sibling l had. I can't say much about my parents ‘cause they all passed away when I was just a kid in a car accident. Damen was the only parent l ever knew in all my 21 years of walking on this planet earth and these monsters came to take the only precious thing away from me. My brother as far as l knew him he was not capable of stealing from anyone let alone some ruthless, sadistic and deranged mafia of some high rank. He’d never do such a thing. 

I'm brought back to reality with the deep, hoarse voice of the mafia boss. “Take her to the car. I’m not done with her.” He orders cruelly. 

A black bag is put on my face, I guess the heavens have shown me some mercy to breathe for some couple of hours. But what's the difference between facing death and suffering in the hands of this monster?

No one crosses paths with Luca Dermarco and gets to live to tell the tale. Keeping me alive means he is cooking a storm of pain and agony for me. 

“Please, let me bury my brother,” I beg in a last minute attempt, my voice sounding muffled through the bag on my face 

I can't leave him just like that in our home. I'm roughly grabbed by someone and start fighting him to let me go. This house is the only place I have created memories with my brother who is dead now. 

“Shut up woman,” one man snaps. “Or l will put a bullet through your skull.” He sounds irritated. The men drag me out. 

I'm thrown in a car and my head hits a metal. My head rings and there's a throbbing pain at the back of my head. In the next few minutes all l see is darkness lurking and l pass out. 

Someone pours cold water on me and l wake up panting and shivering. I open my eyes slowly, scared of facing my new reality. My eyes get accustomed to the darkness in the room l was in. The person who horribly poured water on me strides out after throwing a plate of watery porridge. 

I don't waste time. I eat it like a person who has been starved for days. Wait, how long have I been unconscious? 

The last thing l remember is hitting something and passing out. 

I look around slowly. I'm in a small room, with a small window where my head barely fits. There's a worn out mattress at the corner of the room. 

Reality looms in me again. Then I remember.. I am now hostage of the devil himself because of some diamonds l don't know about. 

I try to stand up but my legs fail to support my whole body. I'm in excruciating pain. Tears stream down my patchy cheeks. 

“What now, Cassy? You’re going to die. He’s going to kill you.” I chant again and again. 

I try to stand up again, but it's a hustle. Footfalls echo, and the door creaks open, light making its way into my little dungeon. 

I'm scared to turn back. 

Here comes my fucking misery. 

I feel a heavy presence behind me. A woody scent engulfs my nose and it fills the whole room. When he enters the room, the atmosphere becomes tense and heavy. There's something about him that I can't pinpoint exactly. 

lt's him. It's the devil himself.. l don't need to be told. That bloodthirsty aura can’t be mistaken. 

"Finally, you're awake, Miss Gupta,” his deep baritone voice fills the room. I can feel his gaze piercing through my soul like a hot knife. 

He slowly strides towards me like the grim reaper and l start walking back. My back touches the cold wall and I gasp for air as l feel suffocated with his presence. 

This man in front of me, I hate him with every fiber that's inside of me. Being in the same room with him makes me sick… l feel like throwing up. 

He has taken everything from me. My brother is gone because of him. My home is gone because of him. 

It's all him. 

But for all l know he doesn't care. He is used to people despising him and me hating him is nothing to him, I’m sure. This man in front of me is a predator, he gets what he wants.

My voice drips with venom. “Just kill me, and get over it. I don’t care anymore.” I challenge myself. 

“Little thing, have you recalled where my diamonds are?,” he questions, ignoring my earlier comment. 

I don’t say a word. 

For a few minutes, there is heavy silence in the room. I hear him chuckle. When he speaks again, his voice is promising of something dangerous. 

“Trying to be feisty? Look at me when I am talking to you, little thing,” he orders and I find myself slowly lifting my gaze from the ground and staring at those two blue hazel eyes. My stomach clenches. 

My mouth hangs open, and I feel the urge to grab a handful of my shirt into my hand. His eyes are a deep blue sea that can pierce right through your soul if you let him. He towers above me, standing at a solid 6 '1. 

I wonder why I’m noticing all these details, why I’m subconsciously puckering my lips as if I want him to kiss me. Why I’m holding his gaze in silent challenge for him to hold me. Why is my attention so fixated on the slight scar that runs below his eyes, not marring his beauty in any way at all. I try to snap out of it. He’s the same man that murdered a model for touching his hand. The news never made it to the headlines. 

Yeah, he's that evil.

His lips curl into a chilly smile. “Think properly, little thing. If you don't know where your brother put my diamonds,” he traces my cheek and I almost gasp in shock. Luca DeMarco never touches anyone. Especially women. “I will have to kill you.” He divulges.

Colour fades from my face as the tip of a pistol directs on my forehead. 

As l am still trying to gather my mind, I feel a painful sting on my left hand. l glance slowly, only to register that I had been shot. Somehow, during my distraction, he lowered the pistol and shot me. 

I let out a long piercing cry and started vibrating in pain, shock, blood oozing out and splashing across the room. I hear the gun being crooked again, perhaps this is the end of me. 

“Please,” I gasp as much as my voice can manage. “Please, don’t.”