Lucien Delano looked about as the phone pinged. His son Piers had sent a message.
He frowned.
His Woman lay beside him, along with the little son, all of seven months, at her breast, suckling greedily, for Proserpina made it a point to bring the babe into the bedroom for his morning feed. Lucien would never tire of watching the moment between his woman and their child, the babe tugging greedily at her teat and her look of love as she gently stroked the head of soft blonde curls.
This one had also inherited his father’s colouring, she had remarked crossly.
The baby’s fist was clenched tightly and Lucien used to force his thick, calloused finger into the tight fist, a feeling of wonder coursing through him as he watched his lovely wife, her body still fresh from his fierce lovemaking of the night before, as she sighed in contentment, in love, and held the child cupped to her breast lovingly.
He had been kissing her, as they lay, content in each other’s company while the baby nursed at her breast. Enjoying a few moments of pure happiness in the life of the dreaded Don.
Now the call from his oldest child, his son Piers, disturbed that moment.
He scowled and answered the phone, even as Proserpina placed her small hand on his thigh, questioningly.
*
“Son?’ he barked, for he hated to be disturbed in the morning when he was at home and in bed with his Woman. Everyone knew of the unspoken rule. This was the precious time he had with his Woman. During the day, he was too busy, and the nights…well, he was too busy devouring her body.
He knew that he could not think of a life without the woman who had brought focus, and certainty to his life.
She was not only the one he wanted to have when he woke up in the morning, she was also his strength, with her soft, gentle power, swaying him to the right. The one influence he was grateful for. She had brought something into his life, a stability, a richness, that he had never known before.
He had been a monster, a killing machine, a f*cking machine till she came into his life.
*
Now she watched, worry creasing her brow as she frowned and watched him. But his mind was on what his son was saying, hesitantly but with determination.
“She helped us, Sir,’ said Piers,’ Hila Zaidi was right. Tara was being groomed by the Rudenko mob…’
Lucien bellowed in rage and the babe who had begun to doze, still nursing at his mother’s breast, came awake with a start. Proserpina soothed the baby, her eyes on her lover. What had made him so furious, she wondered, her heart hammering in her chest as she sat up in panic.
Lucien had got to his feet, striding to the window, ignoring his nakedness as he scratched his chest, a habit that showed his restlessness.
He was listening intently.
Proserpina placed the baby on the bed for the little fellow, plump and sated, had gone back to sleep. Tugging on her robe, she padded across to her husband, wrapping her arms around his waist, and hugging him as she moulded her body to his back.
He absently patted her hands, locked as they were on his chest, and grunted as he listened to his son.
She could feel his body, the tension radiating from him, and shutting her eyes, she willed him to relax.
He ended the call, turning to her as he growled,
“Woman, I need to leave.’ Seeing consternation on her face, he said roughly, bending to kiss her hard, his morning wood demanding to be satisfied as his shaft came into contact with her soft, welcoming body,
‘Work.’ He said briefly and she slipped her small hand down, stroking his manhood, as he grunted.
‘But it was Piers,’ she insisted gently, her small hands working on his stiff, large member.
He grunted and she dimpled at him, kneeling before him on the carpet, taking him in her mouth and teasing the thick, swollen member with her tongue languidly, her eyes on his face, enjoying the look of helpless desire on the craggy features.
He groaned again commandingly, his hand on her head, holding her in place as she sucked him lovingly. The sight of the woman he loved at his feet, pleasuring him, her large, pale breasts wobbling, nipples peaked, exposed to his greedy gaze, made him eject almost immediately and he held her to his co*ck, forcing her to take the load in her mouth as he emptied himself, grunting hoarsely.
She sat back on the floor, dimpling when he released her but there was a thoughtful yet teasing look on her face. Licking her lips, tantalizing him further, she murmured,
“Hmmm…not bad for an old man.’
A rumble, threatening and loud, came from her lover’s chest as she tipped her head back, the long hair he loved to bury his hands in, cascading in waves behind her.
‘Shall I show you old, you little tease?’ he growled as he watched her, the mischief on her animated face, loving her with a wrench that made him powerless before her.
She gurgled in laughter and stretched her arms out, commanding him to help her up.
He helped her to her feet, kissing her again, slowly, taking his time to hold her to his hard, muscular body as they made their way to the bathroom but she felt a prickle of anxiety.
Something that Lucien had left unsaid bothered her but she had been his partner for too long to know when to let him take his time to tell her…
*
He strode into his office in a few hours to face his son.
Piers and Claude were already waiting for him, having spent the hours in between at the Club, coming straight from the large barn where they had taken Hila.
And Piers had been insistent.
Hila would accompany them.
He feared that leaving her behind might not just be a threat to her life, for by now, the Monk must have discovered that the bird had flown; no, it was not just that. He had an inkling that left to her own devices, even guarded by the best, she would manage to give them all the slip.
And possibly, kill a few good men along the way too, he thought grimly, his face tightening into a hard mask.
And he wanted, in some perverse way that he could not fathom out himself, needed her beside him. Every time he came within a few feet of her, his body reacted and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to bed her.
He wanted to bite, to hurt, to claim, to possess the woman with the challenging smile on her wide, sexy mouth as she looked at him, almost disdainfully.
Now he knew how his father felt when he was watching their beautiful Mumma, for now, he, Piers, was also experiencing the same intense need and hunger that h was trying so carefully, to hide. He had noticed the curious looks that Claude had cast his way but he had not been able to tell anyone, not even his beloved twin sister, about his feelings.
*
As he thought of his sister, he saw Philippe. The large, powerfully built young man was hurrying in through the entrance, stuffing his weapon in his waistband. He looked a little softer, a little less like a machine, thought Piers, lips twisting wryly. The black hair still gleamed wetly, from a shower and he looked satisfied, a gleam in his eyes.
Claude nudged his brother as he drawled,
‘Looks like Ria has got him where she wants. Finally.’
As the Capo neared them, he saw their eyes on him and a dark flush stained his already-tanned complexion. He smiled, a little in embarrassment.
Claude, ever the irrepressible one, piped up,
‘You seen Ria about anywhere Capo?’
The older man scowled and then grinned self-consciously as he saw that the Delano boys were teasing him.
And then, they stiffened, all of them, as the Don strode in. He was shorter than them, thickset and muscular but just the sight of the figure striding in made them all stand straighter.
He approached the desk in the center of the room and sat down behind the large, polished walnut table, and growled, his piercing gaze on his son’s face, coming directly to the point, without a word of greeting;
“Boy. What did you mean?’
Piers felt his face flush. He did not mind his father addressing him as ‘boy’, after all, he was the older man’s son. It was the thought of how Lucien Delano would react to his impetuous behavior, that made him sweat.
The cold, pale gaze stayed intensely on Piers.
“I have brought her here. Hila. I mean the assassin,’ he blurted.