Philippe
He gently pushed the young woman away.
She had come to him when he was feeling a tad salacious and that was all. He had no interest in having a relationship with her. True, Alysia West, was around his age and the daughter of one of the Boss’s associates, albeit lower down in the hierarchy. But he was about as interested in a long-term relationship with her as he was in making love to the handful of women who had come and gone in his life.
As the man who was being trained to don the mantle of the future Enforcer for Lucien Delano’s mob, he had been exposed to a lot of training. Which included sleeping with women.
A wide variety of women. the wives of some of the associates as well, who were enthralled by the young man with his hard black eyes and rippling muscles.
Once he had been in a knife battle with a particularly vicious combatant. The man had lashed out, his knife narrowly missing Phillipe’s eye. It had left a long scar across his left cheek, beginning at his eyebrow,
But it only seemed to make him more attractive to the women who flocked to him
*
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Tall and broad, the black curls tamed and moulded into a fashionable cut, the black ponytail fastened with a piece of rough cord, his stubble rough on his jaw, the black eyes smoky with passion for he was a lover who did not hold back.
His muscles rippled as he moved, the smattering of hair on his chest damp with sweat after the strenuous bout of sex with the more than willing Alysia.
Yes, he was in his late twenties but Philippe had seen a lot since he was inducted into the fold of Lucien Delano’s men. He had fought, had killed and had welcomed women into his bed when they had turned up. But he had never felt a deep affection, a lasting feeling for anyone. Not the kind of affection he saw between his parents, who still held hands when no one was watching; not the kind of passion that he saw between the Boss and his beautiful Proserpina.
Philippe sighed involuntarily and the girl, Alysia Martinez, looked at him, pouting. She was naked, for they had been making love in his small apartment on the grounds of the Club. Alysia was pretty in a heavily artificial way, her layers of make-up hiding the hardness of her face. She was slim and a good lover, open to experiments but that was it.
He was not expected to return to duty till around ten p. m. for he had just got back from another rigorous training session, in Spain this time and when Alysia had appeared at his door, waiting to oblige his sensual appetite, Philippe had let her in and they had indulged in pure fornication. But all the while, he kept fantasizing, dreaming of a golden-headed, spitfire.
The one girl who was beyond his reach, the Princess.
Ria Delano.
*
Now Alysia pouted, trailing her hand over his bare chest, with the smattering of hair over the muscular physique he had developed. Her hands, manicured and with the pointed, red-tipped nails that she had just raked down his back as he rammed into her roughly, she cooed, cupping his heavy balls,
‘Shall we go again? ‘ And her gaze shifted coyly to his already hardening member as she whispered.
“I am ready you know…’
And as he moved slightly, almost pushing her away indifferently, she pouted, her tongue snaking out to lick his chest,
‘Let me stay here with you, tonight, ‘ she begged but her hot black eyes and a red mouth made him cringe. She looked jaded and he felt a strong revulsion course through him.
What had he seen in her, thought Phillipe in disgust as he held her at arms’ length.
Just then, there was an imperative knocking on the door.
Phillippe scowled.
“Damn.’ he swore, ‘It must be one of the men who had come with Karras.” The Greek had insisted that he wanted Philippe and only Philippe with him this evening when they visited the place where a known adversary had set up a conciliatory meeting, having been pressurized into it by none other than the Boss himself. Tugging on his jeans, he made for the door with Alysia trailing behind him.
Alysia followed him to the door as he opened it, her arms around his chest as she wrapped her long leg around his thigh, and then, Philippe froze.
*
Ria Delano stood there, her lovely blonde curls falling to below her shoulders, her wide grey-blue eyes dancing with laughter at the thought of having surprised him, that beautiful wide mouth open in a welcoming laugh that died as she saw him with Alysia.
The shock, the hurt, the pain and confusion, he saw it all even as she turned and stepped back, saying in a strained voice,
‘Oh, I…I am sorry…’
‘” No, wait! Ria!’, he cried hoarsely but she was already fleeing down the path, back to the Club.
‘Little Miss High and Mighty,’ said Alysia in a spiteful voice and he spun around to grip her arm in a painful grip.
“Don’t you EVER say that about her, do you hear?’ he gritted out even as he thrust her away and hurried to pull on his shirt and button up his trousers with hands that trembled.
‘What did you say?’ screamed Alysia, furious, following him back into the small bedroom, which still reeked of sex.
“That bit*h…’
That was as far as she got. Enraged, Philippe dragged her to the door and practically threw her on the sofa.
“Don’t you dare open your f*cking mouth again to speak about her,’ he said in a low voice, vibrating with fury.
Alysia fell back, hate and anger on her face, half naked and shocked. She studied his expression, and turned away jerkily, dragging on her coat.
“Oh, so that’s how it is, eh?,’ she cried in a spiteful voice, high and shrieking. “The gardeners’ scum is in love with the Boss’ daughter?’ and before Philippe could reach her, she had run away in the direction of the Club, wearing little else but her flimsy dress pulling on the coat she had left hanging at the door.
Running a hand over his dark stubble and messed-up hair, Philippe set off after the girls, a thunderous expression on his face.