Lucien
He knew that it was possible to meet his wife that day.
Finally.
He had tried everything he could but the old doctor had perversely forbidden him from being allowed into the room where Proserpina was recuperating.
The doctor seemed to take a sadistic pleasure as he refused curtly every time.
Now, this morning, the old man had grudgingly said,
“Mrs. Delano is feeling vastly better. She will meet you.’
*
It had been Ria who had suggested the flowers. so, he had had truckloads of them delivered to the hospital. Camille, the wife of Tony Beston, had managed to get the blossoms into Proserpina’s room although the old doctor had been anything but pleased. Meanwhile, his youngest son was thriving.
A real fighter said the nurse in awe. Lucien had felt the pride of knowing that he had sired this little miracle. But he longed for just one thing now, to take his Woman in his arms, to crush her lovely mouth, to ask for her forgiveness.
He knew he had done the unspeakable by hurting her.
He just hoped that she would not take too long to forgive him…
*
Proserpina
When my hair, which had become a tangled mess, had finally been washed and combed free of knots, and I had changed into a fresh set of clothes, the nurses checked on me once again before my family was allowed in. I looked up apprehensively as the door opened but it was my children who flooded the room; Piers who came in with a tearful smile, and Ria, sobbing in joy as she ran to me and Tara, doing the same. Little Dom was also beside me, throwing his arms around my neck and crying. Claude stood, a little distance away, his eyes on me, grinning from ear to ear and Louis as well, trying to behave like a man but his smile faltered, eyes filling as he approached my outstretched arms.
‘ Have you seen the baby?’ asked Tara, ever the one to come to the point but the others immediately rounded on her and she clammed up, looking cross.
Ria buried her face in my neck as she whispered,
‘Mumma, I said some horrid things to you that day, I am so sorry, Mumma.’
I sighed, I laughed and I cried as I looked at all my children, feeling a deep sense of gratitude.
But my eyes wandered to the door; where was Lucien?
As though my thoughts had conjured him up, the door was flung open; only my Mafia Don would make such a rough, entrance, I thought as my heart missed a beat and sure enough, the man swept in. True to style, he looked as impeccably dressed as ever, carrying the aura of power on his shoulders easily. The grey suit hugged his muscled thighs, the blazer clinging to his wide, powerful shoulders. Only his hollowed eyes and the growth of his beard made it evident that he was troubled.
His grey-blue eyes slashed to my face and stayed there as he stood, ignoring my children who were chattering away around me, as he stared at me, eyes seemingly drinking me in.
I blushed. Even after all this, the man had just to look at me in that way and I felt weak and soft for him.
I sank back onto the pillows tiredly and immediately, he snapped, his voice loud and hard,
‘The f*ck are you bothering your mother for? She has just recovered from surgery.’
The noise abruptly ceased and the children looked around, nervous and shamefaced.
‘Now get f*ck out of the room,’ he growled, “I need to talk to my Woman.’
My children trooped out, subduedly but the older ones, particularly Ria, gave me a look that seemed to be beseeching me.
The fragrance of the flowers, heady and intoxicating, remained as they left, leaving me alone with my lover, my husband and the man who had sired my seven children.
*
He stood where he was, looking at me, rocking on his heels in that way he had, which always made me feel nervous. I clenched my fists on the bedsheets and looked back at him, my breath coming faster.
“Wife,’ he said after a long while, his eyes boring into me,” Woman…’
I sat up, pushing my hair off my face for the tendrils of damp hair had fallen onto my cheeks and forehead from all the hugging I had just received. Tilting my chin, I glared at him icily as I said,
“I have a name, husband.”
*
Lucien
He stopped and stared at her. Even though she looked weary and her cheeks seemed to have hollowed out, she still had the undeniable attraction that drove him crazy. Her breasts, full and thrusting now, ripe with motherhood, made him lust after her all over again and he knew that he would be bedding her very soon, such was her power over him. Right now, though, her eyes, brown and glowing, were molten with reproach and he sighed.
He indicated the flowers with a hand, the other stuck in the pocket of his pants as he growled, ‘This…’
She relaxed in her bed, leaning against the pillows like a queen receiving a foot soldier, such was her poise, regal and in command as she said, her lip curling disdainfully,
‘Yes, what about them?’
He did not see the twinkle in her eyes as she played with him, as a cat plays with a mouse. He shook his head in exasperation as he took a step toward her and said,
“Woman, Proserpina…I …’ and then, he smote his hand on the chair close by, sending it toppling, as he snarled, ‘F*ck woman, don’t you understand?’ I never meant to…’
Proserpina sat up, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing with anger She was unaware that her robe was gaping open and he could see her full breasts, a sight that made his groin tighten eagerly, painfully.
“F*ck,’ he thought in desperation. She was looking so gloriously seductive, and so unaware of how seductive she appeared.
“Don’t think for a minute that by filling the room with flowers,’ she was saying, her voice rising slightly in agitation, ‘That you are absolved. How dare you treat me like a sex object? How Dare you call me a …’ her voice trembled with pain as she collected the moment and eyes sparkling, she went on,’ A …pregnant BI*CH!’ she swallowed hard, chest heaving as she said, ‘do you remember?’
He scowled at her. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, his voice rough with passion.
She sat up straighter, uncaring that her gown had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a peaked rosy nipple and a heavy breast.
“A proper apology. And yes, respect.’ She met his eyes as he raised his brows.
“Yes,’ she said and tugged her gown close, covering her nakedness for she had suddenly become aware of his hot eyes on her, feasting on her exposed body.
*
He grunted.
His hands thrust into his pockets, and he rocked back and forth, watching her. She said nothing, held his gaze firmly.
Then he nodded, once, a quick nod as he growled,
“I apologize.’
*
Proserpina
I stared at him.
It had come out in a growl, sounding as though it had been forced out of him but I knew it was genuine.
And probably the best apology I could ask for from my Don.
I dimpled at him, suddenly weary and sank further into the pillows, a host of conflicting emotions overriding me.
I had won this round, this major battle, but had I won the war?
*
And then, all coherent thoughts fled in a trice, for he had crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, his mouth, as hard and demanding as ever, capturing mine. We stayed like that for a while, my hands sinking into his hair, holding him close as his hands moved down lower, to caress my breasts, loving, gently, teasing the pointed, firm nubs making me moan and squirm, his mouth devouring me hungrily.
He raised his head and said hoarsely, ‘Woman, I do not like odd numbers.’
I stared at him, gasping for breath. What on earth was the man talking about?
He smiled, a wolfish smile, the grey of his eyes darkened with passion as he growled, kissing my breasts licking each teat, hot tongue swirling around the prominent nub and making me grip his jacket helplessly,
“You have borne me seven children. I want an eighth. Or maybe we could make it ten.’
*