The Don's Desire

Chapter Two

NIKOLAI

I push open the iron door and find her strapped to the iron chair. Delilah is heating up a piece of metal while she stays motionless with her head down, her hair wet from sweat. I can hear her soft breathing and I know she’s barely hanging on.

Information about who she really is had come back to me and I didn’t expect it to be… her.

The last time I saw her, she was only about nine years old and when I saved her, I hoped she would be something more than this.

I sigh, walking towards her with the file in my hand.

“Did she talk?” I ask.

“No. She said to watch her burn, so I want to grant her wish,” Delilah says.

I nod, lower myself to the ground and raise her chin up with my index finger and my thumb. Her eyes can barely stay open, but she isn’t going to say anything against him; she has been deeply brainwashed. Her skin is drained of all colors, her lips are stained with blood and sweat.

“Take a walk,” I order Delilah, and she immediately obeys.

I get up and grab a chair, positioning it so that I am in front of her, I grab the file and sit down.

“Mia Cross.” I say her name and her head snaps up in surprise.

“You seem surprised that I was able to find your name — your real name.”

She sighs and looks away.

I started to feel annoyed, at her, at myself for saving her that night. My father was right, mercy today could turn to weakness tomorrow.

I certainly didn’t want to see her again after that night, and even if I wanted to, not at some pawn in a sick man’s game.

I open the file and start showing her pictures. “I’m assuming that this is your handler,” I say, pointing at Dante in one of the pictures.

She doesn’t respond, but I’m not asking her because I’m unsure.

“Everything you know about this man, or think you know, is a lie. He set you up. He sent you into the club that night knowing you would die — he probably even thinks you are dead right now.”

“And I’m to take your words against his – a man who locked me up and tortured me, yeah right,” she says weakly, not bothering to look up.

I drew in a deep breath,“I suppose not. You’ve clearly been brainwashed.

She scoffs.

I nod my head in understanding, pulling my lower lip between my teeth.

“Then maybe you can tell me Mia — who is this man, and why would he send you in alone to kill me? It’s either he overestimated your skills, or you were just the only one dumb enough to take a hit on the head of the mafia.”

Her head shoots up in what seems to be shock, not surprise like when I said her name, but shock. Her eyes are wide, and she seems to be comprehending what I just said.

Of course, she didn’t know.

“You didn’t know,” I breathe out.

“You’re lying,” she swallows, and there seems to be a shift in her eyes, her resolve is weakening, and she is clearly struggling with all the information.

“Yeah of course. Being the mafia is something I can just randomly lie about, I roll my eyes.

"Then he must have been misinformed. He didn’t know who you were."

Flipping the pages of the file, I find what I’m looking for and raise it up to her eye level so she can see clearly.

“This man,” I point to the man beside Dante. “His name is Fabio Cassano, the head of the Italian mafia, and you can see Delilah in the back, right?” I move my finger to the left a little. “And that is your handler, Dante. He used to work for me until I kicked him out for being a gambling Suka."

Her breathing is unsteady, and when I look at her again, there are fresh tears in her eyes.

“There has to be some sort of misunderstanding—I– “

I sigh and place the file on the floor, “What did he tell you?”

“That you are some kind of billionaire mogul who’s killed a f**k load of people and a ton of kids,” she says with a sniffle, but quickly blinks, and it's like she put on a mask.

“I have killed a f**k load of people, but never women and children.”

I nod my head again, picking up the file from the floor and opening it once again, there are pictures of all her victims and, from what she just said, Dante must have lied about a couple of others.

I showed her a picture of Egret, a rusty old man from the army who lived as a patriot for most of his life. He wasn’t my favorite person, but he was honorable, and I respected that.

“This guy was a patriot from the army. Did you know that?” I ask.

she pauses, then shakes her head in the negative and I go one to show her more and more, until the end.

Dante didn’t just lie about some of them, he lied about them all. The question now is, why?

I don’t know how much Dante means to her, but from the look in her eyes, I’m guessing a lot.

I drop the file once more and reach into my pocket and pull out a stick of a cigarette. It’s the only comfort I know.

She looks away, and I take it as a sign that she doesn’t smoke.

“I can offer you a deal,” I find myself saying.

I don’t know why I say it, maybe I feel some sort of responsibility — or maybe I just don’t want her in the wrong hands again. I want to know where she’s been, what she’s been through and how Dante managed to sink his claws into her.

“What deal?” she asks weakly.

“You could work for me,” I shrug.

She chuckles, spitting out blood halfway, “Yeah, right. Why would you do that?”

“Because from what I have gathered, you are not my enemy, Mia. You’re just a girl he was manipulated and lied to — introduced into a game you know nothing about. That and the fact that you don't have a choice.”

She coughs up some more blood. More violently this time.

I get up and walk over to the back of the chair, releasing her hands that look like it barely has any blood flowing into them and untying her.

She falls forward as soon as the chains holding her body up fall off, and I hurry over to her, allowing her to fall into my arms.

Her fair skin is mostly red from the marks of the chains and the rest of her is pale.

“It’s okay darling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She groans in pain as I lift her into my arms, but curls in closer to me anyway.

My eyes drift to her n*****s, standing perky and hard, probably because of the cold and all the pain shooting through her nerves.

Her eyes are closed, her long lashes are hooded over her olive-green eyes, and her round lips are slightly open.

I know this is a risk, keeping a girl who’s been brainwashed by the enemy close to me, someone who tried to kill me.

What’s the guarantee that she wouldn’t just try again. If my father were to be alive, he’d say that I’m simply giving an extra bullet to the enemy because they missed the first time.

But hell, I’ll be damned.

I bump into Delilah in the hallway, and she is evidently surprised that I’m carrying Mia away.

“Are we done with her?” she asks.

“Yes D,” I reply, walking past her and I can hear her walking behind me.

“But why? She tried to kill you.”

“Yeah well, people make mistakes,” I shrug.

Her steps are hurried until she’s standing in front of me. I stop in my tracks, giving her a listening ear. I can’t tell if Mia is asleep or passed out, but I do know that she’s still alive.

“You’re not the forgiving type, and you’re definitely not the excusing type,” she points out.

I sigh, “You’re right. But not this one, she’s off limits.”

“Why?” she probes further, and I glare at her, a warning she knows not to mess with.

“Because I say so.”

I brush past her without further explanation, I need to get her cleaned up and treated.