Ria
After practically wolfing down the slightly stale bread and cheese, Ria gulped down the water and sighed. Of course, it was nothing compared to Mumma’s superb cooking but …she had been so hungry.
And the bed now stood in all its shabby dignity, between them as they tried to arrive at a truce. Ria swayed in tiredness as a wave of darkness seemed ready to engulf her. She sighed and admitted to the truth of his observation.
*
The only time she had come close to giving up her virginity had been with Ronnie Prouse, a senior at school, and that had been at Prom Night. She had gotten drunk for the first time in her life on the spiked punch and the boy had also had dark hair and tanned skin, reminding her vaguely of Philippe. He had not gotten around to deflowering her, for a friend had called her name when one of Pappa’s bodyguards had come looking for her. She had hastily pushed the sweating, stumbling Ronnie with his uncertain, clumsy hands, off of her and run away. She had never known whether to be happy about it or annoyed.
*
Of course, there had been boyfriends who had pawed and petted her but somehow, their pathetic efforts at making her excited had fallen flat. She had developed an annoying habit of comparing them with Philippe even as they kissed and groped; and since they always fell short, when compared to the muscular giant with his black eyes and hair and his supreme nonchalance when he saw her, she ended up pushing them away firmly before things go out of hand. It was true, she had never been kissed by the Latino giant who was glowering at her from the other side of the bed now; but your imagination could take you places, she thought ruefully.
*
After the disastrous evening when she had seen Philippe with a woman in his rooms, she kept thinking of him, trying to hate him but failing miserably.
But she did not want to give up her virginity for some silly schoolboy with his hot groping hands; no, she had sworn at one furious memorable drunken moment, to become a nun and join the legions of women working in some distant, poor country.
Or shut herself in Bhutan on the snowy mountains.
Far away from men and of course, sexy Philippe.
*
Piers had come around to her room and the twins had been in their cups when she confided in him gloomily, announcing her bleak plans for the future.
To her utter fury, Piers, who she had listened to her story of sorrow in growing astonishment had rolled off the bed chuckling and she had punched him in his most sensitive area down below, for his derisive dismissal of her grief-ridden ultimatum.
After a lot of moaning and grumbling, he had surfaced, a broad grin on his face as he knelt by the bed and spoke,
‘Hey, why did you knee me in the balls, Ria? It is just so funny…’ And he had dropped to the ground, rolling in laughter, as she squinted at him, half drunk, trying to think of another vicious assault to shut him up.
After a while, he had settled down o the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms and saying,
“Hey sis, chill.’
And when she had pushed him away, tears of mortification running down her cheeks, he had cried, joyously.
” What are you whining about, you dumb woman? We are the children of the virile Lucien Delano, Ria.’ he had chuckled, wheezing even as he clutched his lower abdomen.
And then, throwing himself beside her on the bed, he had continued in a more serious tone, a tone filled with love and respect, nonetheless.
‘We are hot-blooded people, Ria. I mean, think about it; Mumma still melts helplessly in that funny, adorable way when Pappa looks at her with that hungry, demanding look in his eyes. Where do you think they vanish to when he looks at her like that and orders her to follow him? To play chess?’
And he laughed at his own silly joke.
Ria lay on the bed beside her brother, staring at the ceiling unseeingly, mulling over his words.
It was true.
.
They still disappear for hours when that happens, when Pappa looks at her in that way, the way a man looks at a woman with hot desire in his eyes, she thought with a slow grin. They were so cute. And when they get back, Pappa has a triumphant gleam on his face, his chest pushed out in pride, and Mumma blushes even more than before every time he looks at her or touches her when they think no one is looking, he could have added, she thought.
*
The raging passion between her parents was an indication of what she wanted too, she thought with a sigh. But the damned man standing like a virile god in front of her was either too obtuse or not interested in her.
Ria’s shoulders slumped as she thought of the second option.
*’
She came back to the present and saw that Philippe was waiting for her to reply to whatever he had said. There was an impatient look of mild exasperation on his dark, handsome face as he waited for her to respond to whatever he had just asked her opinion about. His bronzed arms, ropey with muscles, were crossed over his broad chest. Having been immersed in her thoughts, she had not been listening to him and now, she gazed at him, blankly before skimming her eyes over the bed again.
What the hell had the man been talking about, anyways, she thought crossly.
Running her tongue nervously across her lips, she glanced at Philippe and froze. His hot and hungry gaze on her mouth made her feel a strange kind of desire, a longing to hold him and have him make love to her.
*
But no, that would not do. She straightened her shoulders haughtily and glared at him.
“Well, she snapped, “shall we go to bed?’
And then, as he quirked a brow in mild amusement at her choice of words, unfortunate as they were, she said, flustered, ‘I mean…Oh, come on Philippe!’
He grinned suddenly, looking years younger as he said gently,
‘It’s alright baby, you can sleep here; I shall sleep on that armchair,’ and he indicated the narrow passageway door that he had opened, where there stood an ageing armchair, small and with the stuffing coming out in woeful clumps, which the old man had pulled to the door and helpfully left for the Capo to spend the night on.
Turning to look at her, his black eyes glowing, he went on in a soft voice, the deceptive softness of his tones underlining the seriousness of what he was saying.
‘Princess, your father trusted me to take care of you. I respect my Boss.’
*
Ria was temporarily robbed of words.
The full import of what he was saying and what he was not saying, dawned on her; he would never lay a hand on her because he admired and respected her father, the Mafia Don. Worshipped him , to be honest.
She blinked and felt her face heat up.
Just for a minute, she wished gloomily, that her father did not have such a powerful hold on his men, and did not receive such undying loyalty from the men who served him.
She fervently wished that Philippe had been less of a decent man too.
Luckily, the moment weak and vulnerable as it was, flashed by.
*
Recovering quickly, she said, graciously, like a queen dispensing generosity, her small chin pointed arrogantly,
“No…uh Capo… You do not need to make such a sacrifice for me.’
His eyes glittered as she mocked him but he said nothing.
Filing the words away, he thought to himself darkly, with his manhood twitching in earnest now,
‘ Baby, I shall take you up on that sometime in the future. You are going to pay for that remark, Princess, when you are on your knees with my c*ck in your pretty mouth but not today.’
His expression remained carefully blank as she went on, taunting him,
‘I do not want my Pappa’s trusted Capo to be deprived of sleep.’
She turned to look him in the eyes, noting with satisfaction, the tic in his jaw as he fought to keep a bland expression on his swarthy features.
‘Round Four to Ria,’ she thought gaily, as she continued in a frosty voice, like handing out crumbs to slaves,
‘ I will sleep in the corner of the bed, on one side. Even an evil Princess knows that no one can possibly sleep on that thing!’ she stabbed her forefinger at the sagging monstrosity of a couch.
His lips twitched but he silently shut the door as they quickly prepared to sleep, each in their respective corners.
*
Proserpina
My eyes went from Claude’s face, tense and embarrassed, to that of my husband’s
“Lucien,’ I said again, willing myself to remain calm, but my voice was rising in agitation. The flutter in my belly was more pronounced. I gripped his robe, the silk lapels of his expensive Doe Brothers bathrobe, a present from the twins, and looked him in the eye, urgently,
‘Lucien, what is going on?’
He tugged me into his arms and said in a low rough voice,
“Woman, I want you to sit down.’
I let him lead me to the couch in the front room of the suite.
These rooms were the ones that overlooked the gardens and I sat down heavily, wrapping my arms around me.
Something told me that I was not going to like what I was about to hear.