Small-fortunes - Small Fortunes

Five days now he'd been home at the Continental London and for those five days Hector and Christov did nothing but protect his dancer like wolves. Refusing him access to her. In any way, shape or form. He begged them, pleaded they let him attend her. He had so much he needed to say. His two months of diligent hard work had finally paid off. The papers accepted, her duel European Visa acquired alongside international residency and secure passage to at least four different safe houses that were level territory with the Camorra. Her alliances secured with nothing more than a photograph. The banks had approved his land purchase as well. He'd acquired her a modest villa by the waterfront  not entirely too far from Schönbrunn Palace in the capital. A Porsche Panamera in stunning hot rod red parked in her private driveway. He took photos lovingly on his phone and set the new house and car keys into a velvet lined black box with a card that read: 'So you may live in love and peace. Santino' He wanted to give it to her desperately but they just wouldn't leave him alone with her for a minute. Ares, Curtis and Marcus were always at her side when Chris and Hector weren't.

They guarded her in shifts, snapping and barking at him like dogs if he so much as looked at her in a way that they often misinterpreted as predatory. He'd snapped at them under the pressure. Retaliating wildly when they would not approve access to her rooms. He was causing a scene, they told him. Being disgraceful. Disrespectful. He argued with the crew bitterly.

"She's my fucking lover!" He screamed at Hector in bitter rage, threatening him. "Have you forgotten who signs your pay checks, bastardo?!" (bastard?!)  Well, that didn't go down well in the slightest. Furious, Hector punched him square in the mouth. The blow so well timed and powerful he'd not even seen it coming. He remembered then why he had chosen Hector as his second in command. But that didn't stop him pulling his pistol free and levelling it at his Guard's head. Hector, in a wild fury, took hold the muzzle of the gun and shoved it directly into his forehead, holding it steady and cursing in Italian. Demanding Santino make good on his threat ad pull the trigger. Daring him to do so. To see what would really happen. Did he have the balls? Here? Now?

"Go on, you fucking cunt! You lack the courage of your conviction! Dickless cur! Pull the trigger, pull it! Pull the fucking trigger Santino, blow my brains out if you think you have it in you! I'll die where I stand but you... I'll see you rot in Hell!"

Santino's finger squeezed the trigger... another millimetre and he'd end this man's suffering forever. Until Sable appeared flanked by hotel security in the hallway and demanding the two men desist their argument immediately and drop their weapons at once.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PAIR!?!" Sable exploded. Rare. Extremely rare. Sable was always so refined, so in control of his emotions. Seeing him loose his cool like this was haunting.

"A dozen noise and disturbance complaints from this floor, I come to investigate and this is what I find?! The Prince of Rome and his Commander at gun point in the halls of my house?! Are you insane?!"

"This doesn't concern you. Return to your desk." Santino had replied in a fury. Completely forgetting himself or where he was. Now it was Sable that attacked, knocking the pistol clear out of his hand with a deadly precision of movement. He disarmed the Italian prince and threw the weapon at his security guard who caught it mid-air and unloaded the magazine in an instant. Impossible the way they moved. Trained almost from birth it seemed. There were dangerous men in England. Dangerous men in London. But Sable... he reminded Santino and Hector both of who was God in this hotel. And it was certainly him. Sir Jeremy would hear of this disruption of harmony to his house. And he would come down on them both like the hand of God. In vengeance. But that was secondary to what was to come first. They were not polite about it either.

 Both Hector and Santino were arrested and separated by Sable's security detail, stripped of weapons entirely and marched in different directions. Downstairs they were taken. Almost the same route down to the subterranean car parks. Basement level. The boiler rooms. A huge stone chamber that was bare of anything save concrete and iron and the machinery that kept the hotel air conditioning and water systems functional. They seemed to stretch on forever. Twice Santino asked where they were taking him, straining against the cold metal of his handcuffs. And twice they met him with silence. Terror began to sink its fetid claws into the panicked beating of his reckless heart. Would he run? Would it make it worse if he did?

They threw him face first into a rough hewn holding cell with no light, dank air and imposing terror. The shadows played tricks with his eyes. There, in the corners of the cell were shadows that moved. Too many arms... to many eyes... Monsters..

Terrified, the Italian threw himself at the cell bars, screaming and pleading Sable let him free. But no one came to his cries. They left him there, alone, in the dark, handcuffed with the moving shadows of creatures unknown and his own thoughts to torment him into believing he was seeing demons and hearing voices that were otherworldly manifestations of death and torment.

 No light... no sound... Just fear.... fear.... and Lalienna.... Oh his dancer! His Spaniard. His Mistress. He screamed her name into the shadows and they dispersed to reveal.... Sable.

What?! Impossible!!! He'd gone with the other security staff to lock away Hector... how was he here with him this in cell? Wait?! In the cell? Then how would they get out?!

What?! Nothing made sense.

"Signore Sable... please.... please.. I'm going mad... I can't be here anymore, my dancer.. My Lalienna...have mercy on me, let me go to her. I will do anything you say, anything. Just let me out of this fucking cage... LET ME OUT!!!"

"I warned you...Prince of Rome. That the cost of your sins would see to your ruin." Whispered Sable. Black suit. Gloved hands. Those eyes... like the pits of Hell themselves reflecting the screams of a hundred thousand fallen souls at once. And he would be another victim to join them shortly.

Santino pleaded, "Signore Sable, please, have mercy on me. Yes, I did wrong, I pulled a gun in your house, I was mad in my rage but you have to believe me, I wouldn't have killed him.. My Commander! My Guard! Hector... Where have you taken him?! Tell me! Do with me what you will but release Hector, he is innocent of any crime, it was me! I admit it! I did it all... I cut her... I held her down, I lost control. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He fell to his knees and with it came his grief stricken tears like rain. He'd snapped completely. Babbling, cursing, wretched in his panic. He vomited under the sheer force of the terror that took him.  He thought he would die in this cell. Without ever seeing her again. His men... Ares... Hector, Christov, Curtis, Tony, Marcus... Lalienna...

Those voices... in his head. Lorzeno shunning him, his sister Gianna, turning away. Marissa... That look in her eyes. Haunted. The light gone forever... Like Judeth... Because he'd raped her. He'd taken her against her will.... he'd abused and raped her and killed their child. Blood on his hands. Her blood. She left him... But he'd forever torn out the semblance of her soul.

"Are you ready to repent, Mr. D'Antonio?" Asked Sable calmly, dulcet baritone. Black suit, black gloves, standing outside the bars of the cell door.

Outside? Santino turned in tear-soaked panic. Then if Sable was outside, where was the man he was talking to in the cell?

Nothing there... Shadows and darkness and nothing more.

"How'd you do it?!" Santino asked, throwing himself at the bars.

"Do what exactly, Mr. D'Antonio?"

"Don't play fucking games with me Sable... you were standing in this cell with me a moment ago. Right there! How did you get out without me seeing you?"

Sable was silent, his features changed. Pity infused his hard blue eyes as he looked the half mad Italian man over.

"Mr. D'Antonio.... You watched me leave your side to incarcerate your guard. It's not possible for me to be in two places at once. Although it would certainly improve my efficiently for running this hotel."

Santino's eyes grew wide. Horror filling him. He spun on his heel, his eyes searching the darkness. Sable was right... he was alone. There was no one there... Had he imagined it? But it was real! The concierge had been standing in that cell with him as surely as he lived and breathed this very moment.

"Mr D'Antonio... listen to me. Your guard was good enough to explain your position. You've had a very difficult few months it seems. You're over worked, injured, exhausted and defeated by demons latched to you by the betrayal of a lover. If you want to survive this, I suggest you admit defeat first and make good your apologies. Now, I'm going to let you out of that cage. And you're going to come with me back upstairs. You will join me at the reception desk and you will sign a formal warning notice for wilful intent to execute business on hotel grounds with a loaded weapon. As no harm was done, and your guard has confessed of your troubles, I will be lenient with you and revoke my original intention which was to report your behaviour to management and have our services suspended until further notice. You should be grateful of my mercy, sir. It is not every day one is given the opportunity to teach humility to the Prince of Rome. Alas, I have. And would do so again with extreme prejudice if that is what it takes to disarm you."  

He was freed from his prison soon thereafter. Leaving the shadows of the underground behind. He ascended again to the light and did exactly as he was told. Without question. With extreme hesitation. Sable cleared his throat. A warning. Still he would not sign the paper. He couldn't read the words. He became overwhelmed that this document was in fact his death warrant.

"Sign it, Mr.D'Antonio."  Those eyes... like the pits of hell.

"I want Lalienna..." He pleaded. His voice breaking. The tears would not come though his eyes burned.

"And you will have her again, of that I have no doubt. Now, sign the Warning Letter so we may put this wretched episode behind us quickly, sir. I have business to attend and cannot stand here entertaining your insecurities all day. Do I make myself clear?"

He gave in. He signed.

"Papi?" That voice! He turned and there she was. Flanked by Hector and Chistov, Marcus, Tony and Curtis. Ares too, hugging he girl. His girl. His dancer. His Spanish flower.

He looked to the men, wordless. The tears falling at last. Begging though he didn't say a word that they let him touch her, go to her... fall at his knees for her. Hector nodded.

And that was all he needed. He rushed her, taking her in his arms and breaking down.  He cried with her. Incomprehensible in his anguish. A million terrors and fears flooding through him that he struggled to convey. Two months of torture, separation, madness. Destroyed... By the severance between them.

And she chased it all away with a kiss. And that kiss. It seemed to last forever. An eternity. It stretched on and on and on. Lightening him. Calming him, soothing him. Her skin, her scent, her touch, her taste. His lungs burning, he wouldn't come for air, he'd let her drown him. He wanted to die... Here. Now. It didn't matter how so long as she held him in her arms.

 "I love you, Papi... I've missed you. I was sacred you'd still be angry with me. That you wouldn't come back."

"Non ti lascerò mai più amore mio." (I'll never leave you again my love." He insisted. Holding her to him for dear life.

It was over. The torment. The torture. His anger. His rage. His madness. It was all over.

He turned, to find Sable... But he wasn't there.

"Did you see him?" He asked, cold with shock.

"Who Papi? What are you talking about?"

"Sable! Did you see Sable?!" He was addressing his men now. Praying that they said something that sounded like reason.

"Mr. Sable retired an hour ago, Mr. D'Antonio." He swung around again to see the owner of that voice. A pair of them. Identical twins. The Iris Twins.

"We're here though Sir. And if there's anything you need of us-"

"Paper! Warning Letter. I signed a warning letter, where is it?" He snapped in panic.

"Warning Letter, Sir?" Said Chervonne with a raise of her brow.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Chimed Chantelle, clearly concerned that something was amiss.

 "Boss..." He turned again, clutching the dancer to him. His men flanked him and he winced and retreated from Hector who looked upon him with concern in his eyes.

"You look terrible boss... I think... you should go upstairs... Both of you. Spend a little alone time together. You need each other now."

"Papi? Are you okay? You look sick. I'm worried about you."

"It's okay, amore mio. It's alright. I'm... tired that's all. Tired. Yes... But, Lalienna, I want you to go with Ares upstairs and pack your belongings. Everything we bought together. Everything you own. Tony, help her with her luggage. All of you go, empty your rooms. Pack your belongings and get ready to take the next flight back to Rome."

"Rome? What? Why? Right now?!" Asked Hector, clearly confused.

"Yes, right now. All of you. Pay your checks to the ladies and prepare your passports. We're going home."

"But Papi, it's so late. Are you sure you don't want to just sleep with me first, then we can go in the morning together?"

"No, amore mio. Right now. We're leaving right now. We can sleep on the plane. But we're going home. I'm taking you with me. All of us. I've had enough of this city , this country. I can't stand it a second longer. We're leaving. Back to my mansion. We're going to Rome."

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You…you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt… and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this…this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So…worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

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In Cycles, In Circles

- A collection of fractal inspired shapes and patterns alluding to ink,paint, glass and smoke. Infinite possibility woven into instant consciousnesses.

Medusa Risen || Vivere Camorra

“I watched her through glass. A slender white snake. Her eyes so green. Her scales so pure. And I thought to myself, ‘I want to pull her out of that world, hold her in my hands.’ She sank in her fangs... I should have cut her throat.”

Medusa.... Pull me down.

Inamorata

Drag me down.

@lalienna-dementriento

My ten personal favorite artworks by JC Leyendecker. It is interesting that many of them happen to be Easter illustrations!