Ria
But then her mother’s words sank in.
A wave of fear swept through her. Had her mother sounded…strained?
Impulsively, she looked at the man towering above her and she said in a small voice,
“Philippe, is everything all right at home?” and her breath hitched as she went on,
“Mumma? Is she…’
Ria could not bring herself to ask. Philippe felt the tenderness he had for her well up.
He took off his glasses and said in a soft, warm voice, ‘Princess,’
It made her stiffen. He had always called her Princess while they were growing up. Mafia Princess, the others would tease her and she would toss her golden curls and declare,
‘Yes, I am a Mafia Princess!’
Now the usage of that familiar nickname made her feel warm. And …loved?
She looked into his eyes as he said, the black eyes glowing with honesty,
‘Your Parents. They want to see you. Something has come up. ‘
Replacing his shades, he made to step away but as she opened her mouth in alarm, he went on, soothingly, his voice gentle,
‘They are okay. But…’
She never found out what he was about to say.
Dawson’s voice, loud and unpleasant, cut through their conversation. He was running up to them, shouting,
“There she is, the frigid little bi*ch!’
He slowed as he saw Philippe and Ria felt absurdly happy and safe. Philippe was large, and with his tattoos snaking up his collar, he looked dangerous, although he was dressed in a formal black suit. He took off his glares slowly, the huge muscles bunching under his jacket as he turned to the young men who were approaching, shielding her from their view as he said in a deceptively quiet voice,
“Who were you talking about?’
Dawson and his mates slowed. They had not expected to see a giant like Philippe who carried himself a lot like the Boss, commanding and exuding power.
‘She…I mean…’
With one fluid move, Philippe had bunched Dawson’s shirt in his hand and he forced him back, out of earshot, away from Ria.
And then the youth was pressed back against one of the wide columns of the arches, the stone pillar probably biting into his flesh through his fancy shirt as Philippe held him there, pinned.
In a low voice, he said in measured tones, like someone discussing the weather,
‘That is My Girl you are talking about. So m***,’ and he used a particularly crude abuse that made the white-faced Dawson turn even more white, ‘Lay off. She belongs to me and if I hear you saying anything…’
He let the youth go abruptly and Dawson slipped to the floor, shaking.
Ria had not heard the words that Philippe had spoken softly but she got the gist of the fact that he had scared the younger man effectively. But she was too disturbed to be bothered about all of it. Ignoring Dawson who slunk off, white-faced, she turned to Philippe and said,
‘Please, let’s go.’
He took one look at her and nodded tersely, turning to the men who were hovering beside him. Then, gripping her arm, he said gently,
‘Let’s go, princess.’
*
As they drove away, he kept glancing at her through the rear view mirror as she sat, chewing her bottom lip. She kept texting furiously, obviously contacting her twin, he thought as he met her troubled eyes in the mirror. She turned away and he knew she was shutting him out.
*
Ria
She sat , stiff and unable to relax as the car ate up the miles. Philippe drove smoothly and fast. But Ria was a mass of nerves. Something was up. Her father was not answering her calls, which in itself was a strange thing. No matter how busy he was, Lucien Delano had never ignored calls from his eldest child, his favourite. As for her mother, she knew when gentle, loving Proserpina was being evasive; the brief replies left her feeling more exasperated and annoyed than ever. She chewed her bottom lip, her grey eyes stormy with worry. And to top it off, Philippe had blown in to take charge. She sent him a resentful look and knew he was watching her in the rearview mirror though his eyes were hidden behind the shades.
Ria had not forgotten the hurt she had experienced when she had turned up at his cottage to find him in the arms of that dreadful girl, Alysia. She had run away, trying not to cry and horror of horrors had run into her father who had given her a verbal dressing down, furious that she had turned up at the Club without informing him. Needless to say, he had packed her off home immediately, and she had soon left for the University at Grace Springs.
*
Now, as she moved about in a daze, wondering what overwhelming need had made her father summon her home so abruptly, she noticed how things were being managed efficiently by the Enforcer. Her father had already informed the Dean and her exit suddenly this afternoon, was smooth. How he had managed to convince the otherwise crusty woman who ran the University like a tight ship, was beyond Ria’s comprehension but she knew that her father had the ability to pull strings.
Under the watchful gaze of Philippe, she had been herded into the large black sedan which was waiting at the gates. As he moved sideways to allow her to slip into the back seat, she caught a glimpse of the firearm he wore and felt a pang; her childhood friend, the carefree days she had shared with him, had disappeared, this was reality; this large, muscular giant with the hard expression on his dark face, watching her dispassionately.
To her astonishment, a few of her belongings were already packed and ready in a suitcase in the car and they had swept off, back to Hollowford, which was a seven-hour drive from the little campus town. A gunman sat beside Philippe as he drove surely and fast and she knew that another car with her father’s men, was accompanying them as they drove along the deserted country roads.