Saving The Capo's Heir

Four

Mason

Esmé, Javier, and I sat in the office for hours. She wanted to go through each piece of information and evidence we found with intricate details. We had very vague details. The men that took Aaliyah wore ski masks and knew we would come for her. Right before they left the hospital, they stared into the camera and smiled. The only things we could see were their eyes and teeth. Neither of those is sufficient to enter into facial recognition software. It was already two in the morning when Esmé began to yawn.

“You need sleep.” I whispered while leaning my head on her shoulder. She shook her head, denying my request.

“Esmé, I will not let you get yourself sick. We need sleep.” I demanded, standing from the chair. Javier was sent away to work on some facial recognition. Esmé wanted to know the backgrounds of everyone involved. She wanted to know who was hired last and all their family history. I wasn’t going to tell her just yet that maybe this is not just a psychopath nurse that maybe wasn’t able to have kids. That was a fight I was going to have with her tomorrow.

She scoffed, pushing her chair from under the desk and standing up. I know she is mad and frustrated, but most of all, she is hurt and tired. “Mason—“

I interrupted her by raising my hand and pushing my chair away from the desk as well. “I will not let you get sick, so you can fight, and you can scream and kick, but you will rest, you will eat, and you will pump. Tomorrow is another day, I know… it’s another day that she is not with us, but we must keep hope. Thomas is there with her, and I know that he will keep her safe.” I tried to assure both of us through my statement. I walked over to her where she stood, arms crossed across her chest and tapping her foot on the ground. I snaked my hand up her cheek and toward the back of her head and pushed her head toward my lips, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Come on. We have more dragons to slay tomorrow.” I turned her around and pushed her out of the office and toward our bedroom. Tomorrow will be one hell of a day. She still hasn’t seen her mother, and we have more shīt to sort through, thanks to her. We walked in silence toward the bedroom, the bedroom that was re-decorated to keep Aaliyah here for the first three months of her life. I pushed the door open to our bedroom, and she froze. I didn’t have to see her know that she was crying. I could feel her shoulders bob up and down. I could hear her sniffling, I wanted to comfort her, but I too felt that the day that they were taken. Actually, it had to be redone because I had destroyed the room. The bassinet that was carefully picked by Esmé, I picked up and threw it against the wall, and with tears flowing down my face, I sat on the floor and built it back up.

I bent down, kissed her temple, and slowly guided her toward the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection. I left her there and turned on the shower for her, setting it for what she called perfect temperature. I walked back toward her helping her get undressed. She was again functioning as a robot. She raised her hands above her head for me, allowing me to remove her shirt. One month ago, I would be claiming her, but right now, we need to heal. I threw her shirt on the ground, followed by her bra. She rolls down her leggings, takes her underwear with it, and kicks it off to the side with the remainder of her clothes. Right now, she is the important one; I opt for leaving my clothes on and turning her around, guiding her toward the shower. She stands there under the shower letting the water flow down her body, with just a hint of red due to the injury she still has on her lower abdomen. I want my Esmé back. I want the woman that has the ability to make grown men piss on their pants with just one look.

Twenty minutes later, she is lying on her side of the bed, curled up in a ball. I switched from my wet, cold clothes to basketball shorts. I will shower once she has fallen asleep. I slide onto the bed, pull the blankets up, and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her toward me. She has been mute. Since we came into the room, she has not said a single word, and it breaks me. I pressed my lips to the crook of her neck and whispered sweet nothings until her breathing leveled out and she fell asleep. I slowly moved my hand from under her, standing up from the bed and slipping into the shower. I don’t know about you, but I can’t for the life of me fall asleep without showering unless I am drunk. That is another story.

After fifteen minutes, I turned off the faucet and let the warm water trickle down my tense muscles. I slipped on another pair of basketball shorts and slipped them on. I walked over to my sleeping wife and smiled. I knew that inside that shell of sadness was my fierce woman. I slipped right behind her and let sleep consume me.

—

I awakened the following morning with a pain in my neck, clearly of the way I had slept all night. I reach Esmé’s side of the bed and find it empty, the bathroom door wide open, indicating that she was not there. I threw the sheets off of me and jogged toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. No one wanted to smell my morning breath. Once I have touched, flossed, and washed my face, I head toward the chest of drawers pulling out a T-shirt and sliding it on. I pulled the bedroom door open and searched for her, but I didn’t have to search far. I could hear her barking at someone. I walked toward her office with an extra spring in my step, and a smile plastered on my face.

I leaned on the edge of her office door and looked at her. She dressed up like the woman I knew and fell in love with. Don’t get me wrong, I also love when she looks like a bum when she doesn’t have a speck of makeup on her face or isn’t wearing heels, but this part of her makes my member stand up on full salute.

She is wearing a forest green silk blouse tucked in her black pencil skirt. Her heels are right next to her desk. It was when she turned around that I fell in love with her all over again. She can be a bad asš and a mom simultaneously; she has the front of her blouse pulled under her breasts while she has her breast pump on. My brain didn’t register the fact that she had four men standing in front of her breasts until just now.

“Out!” I demanded; all four men, including Javier, turned around and didn’t even so much as look at me; they bowed their heads and left the office. I sidestep them and entered the office, slamming the door shut.

“What the fūck do you think you are doing?” I growled while I took menacing steps toward her.

She looked down to the pump that was slowly milking her breásts and looked back up. “I think this is called pumping.” She countered.

“I know what that is. My question is, why are you doing it in front of four of our men! Do you want to be responsible for their deaths?” I pointed toward the door. I am two seconds away from blowing a casket of how pīssed I am.

“The next time you pump, you better do it behind closed doors. Next time I will put a bullet between their eyes. I don’t give a fūck who it is.” I turned around and left the office, slamming the door behind me.,