Tangled Up With The Mafia

Savoured Not Shared



--Ronaldo--

The needle of my watch's clockface had struck seven by the end of the doctor's examination. He had made hasty but controlled work of bandaging the sleeping belle's bleeding head. Fortunately, the damage dealt had not met the severity to require stitching but Chaput had warned of possible disorientation and delirium once she awoke. It now steadily approached nine o'clock and Allison Lachat was still due to open her eyes. The Boss must also be seething with impatience to return from his meeting. How unlucky to have been called out by the Don at such an inconvenient time.

Amidst my supervision of the girl, I fluttered through another page of the property transfer documentation for Léon's prized jewel in Fez Medina. Quite a loss in my eyes. And, to his cousin Enzo of all men. This townhouse had been the apple of his eye six years ago. Another one of his irrational episodic fixations. He had spent plentifully on it against all logical arguments for its worth. Yes, it was a luxurious property but it had been nothing special at the time. Yet, Léon had still pursued it without relenting. He had even gone as far as to individually target and threaten competitors that had tried to rival his price proposal.

Too bad he had bet it away to Enzo at a night in the Rouge Elephant six months ago.

With a patient breath, I crossed a leg over on my seat to more comfortably retain my observations on the chasseurs de têtes' drowsed damsel. Another gem for the Boss' collection. Perhaps, she would even be the crowning jewel of it.

The sky preached its foreboding rumbles of thunder. It warned of the misfortunes that undoubtedly awaited this clueless girl as of tonight onward. After all, of all Léon's obsessions, she was by far the most unsustainable.

A person was not an object, after all. Unlike a townhouse in Fez Medina, a women was capable of far more things than sitting pretty.

However, I had always expected this madness to surpass its limits one day. In this business, the progression from possession to person was not as drastic as many may think.

Echoed chimes bellowed down the hallway outside. The grandfather clock at its end beckoned my perusing eyes from the files in my hands to the watch on my wrist to confirm the time. It was now nine and Léon was still absent. He had expected to be finished by a quarter to eight at most but it seems the Don has dug his grips in deep tonight. Anything notable reached our ears first before it was deemed necessary enough to disturb the Don's ears. So, I wondered if the suspicious timing of this meeting was planned. The Don must have been aware of his son's discreet operation for today.

Of course, how could it not pique his interest, after all? Léon had never gone after a woman in this desperate, yearning kind of manner before. And, years spent attempting to match his son with countless women fit for the group's future head had left Don V tepid for Léon's romantic expectations.

If only the Don had known that none of those efforts had been needed for this situation to have transpired. Simply his existence itself had been what had set Léon down this path of obsession. He alone was the cause for these inexplicable attachments his son experienced.

The fire behind me crackled as soft, weakened sounds unfurled into the air. They snapped my attention back onto the slight shuffles of the hapless, little girl before me.

Hours ago, she had wandered Paris freely, albeit monitored for her every movement. Now, she laid preciously upon the vintage loveseat of a mobster's parlour. It was sure to send her heart into arrest upon awakening.

My gaze kept steady on her even after her noises had silenced back down into light breaths. The floral cushioning and golden frame of the loveseat were a befitting place of repose for a woman that bared likeness to the ethereal, feminine beauty of a princess. It was undeniable that she had been blessed graciously by her late mother, after all.