Proserpina
She stood, stock still, frozen as she listened to Claude babbling on the other end of the phone. Lucien had actually raised his hand on Piers?
His own son?
Her face hardening, Proserpina turned to the man who had brought her the phone, for Claude had called on a private number.
‘I need to meet my husband,’ she announced crisply, her face flushed with anger.
*
Tara had been shifted to the bedroom in the house and she lay on the bed, sobbing.
Her sister, Ria, came in after a while, looking serene and beautiful in her night suit.
She crossed over to where Tara was sitting up, almost fearfully and held out her arms.
Tara rushed into her embrace, hugging her sister fervently.
‘I have been so stupid, Ria,’ she sobbed as Ria kissed her sister’s familiar-smelling head, the scent of something fruity reminding her how very young little Tara was.
Soothing her sister, she pulled the younger one onto her lap and they sat there, Ria cuddling her sister as the younger girl sobbed her heart out.
*
Philippe was shell-shocked at the turn of events. He had risen from the bed after a long, satisfying night with the girl he loved. He had come to the Club with the intention of asking the Don to allow him to get engaged to Ria. He could not keep away from her; he wanted to know that she was safe. That she was HIS.
But the disturbances of the day had stopped him. The sight of the Don hammering his own son so very mercilessly had stopped him.
Now he stood, listening as Claude outlined what the plan of the evil Monk had been, all along. To get his hands on Proserpina through the young girl Tara.
Philippe felt his stomach muscles clench.
It could easily have been Ria who was the man’s target, taking into account how deeply Dusak the One Eyed lusted over Ria, word of which had reached Philippe’s ears, making him over-cautious when it came to the blonde woman with the grey eyes that darkened with desire when he was riding her.
He stifled a groan and continued to listen keenly though he only wanted to get back to his love, who he had left, lying in bed, a tumble of golden curls and a soft, swollen mouth, eyes languorous with lust as she watched him prepare to leave.
Yes, he wanted to make her legally his.
No time to waste.
*
The door swung open and the Don looked up, snarling in rage and then he stopped the oath he was about to shout as he saw that the person who had entered so regally, was his Woman. He shook his head, his hand rubbing over his stubbled jaw, eyes on her.
He just did not need THIS!
Proserpina looked confused, bewildered as she met his gaze but the overriding emotion in her was that of anger, a slow, burning anger.
She looked as always, magnificent and he felt the familiar desire shoot through him though he had just f*cked her a few hours ago. But she was beside him, raising a hand to strike him and he grabbed her wrist swiftly, twisting her arm behind her back as she glared, eyes shooting sparks of rage as she hissed,
‘YOU HIT OUR SON? YOU MONSTER!’
He smiled thinly. As always, she had jumped in with both feet and had marched into his domain, a thing he strictly forbade her to do. Added to that, she was openly challenging him.
Not done, he thought grimly. This was a matter he had to resolve without an interested audience.
Without a look in their direction, holding the subtly struggling figure to his hard length, he gave a grunt and growled,
‘I need to talk to my Woman. Out, everyone.’
The people in the room slunk away.
Schwartz left, a slightly worried look on his handsome face as he tried to ignore the way Proserpina was rigidly attempting to struggle with dignity in the iron arms of her husband.
Gustav approached a tumbler of whiskey in his tray. Proserpina made a superhuman effort and spun, knocking the tumbler out of the startled valet’s hands.
‘Just Go,’ she hissed as the Don raised a quizzical brow and looked at his wife who was breathing fast, her full breasts heaving with her passion, her fury. He grimaced. All he could think of, even at this moment, was to take her, shove his c*ck into her wet c*nt and ride her hard, tame her.
He hauled her to his body, hearing the soft gasp as his hands dug mercilessly into her flesh.
“The f*ck, Woman!’ he snarled, lowering his head, seeing the flushed cheeks, the soft parted mouth, the plump lips that had just hours before, been sucking him off, and he pushed her against the table , hearing her stifle a sound of pain as the hardwood dug into her .
“Stay out of my work, wh*re. your business is in my bed, servicing me.’
He shook her for effect and her hair which had been in a sedate bun at the nape of her neck, seemed to come undone, tendrils sneaking out to frame her small, flushed face as she swallowed hard, hiding the hurt and the fury as she braced herself. Tears filled her eyes but she refused to show her feelings.
“No, you …you horny old GOAT!’ she said through gritted teeth as his body pressed into her, making her aware of his erection.
‘You do NOT hurt my children,’ she went on breathlessly as he pushed himself into her, his body crowding her and leaving her breathless and at his mercy.
“They are mine too, wh*re,’ he drawled, the smell of her fear and anger exciting him.
He bent his head and captured her mouth even as she tried to evade him, twisting, turning her head from side to side.
‘Get your hands off me,’ she panted. He laughed as he bit her neck and her earlobe. The sight of her soft breasts heaving would be his undoing, he thought and grabbing her, he lifted her effortlessly, shoving her onto the table, taking her by surprise.
‘I make the rules, sl*t. And the next time you think of storming in while I am having a meeting, make sure you have the facts right.’ The grey eyes glinted fiercely and for the first time, Proserpina felt a frisson of doubt.
Had she rushed in without finding out the truth?
As she gulped, he placed his hands on the desk, on either side of her body as he growled,
‘Your precious son, the one you are so busy defending, has brought the assassin who was trying to kill my family, that very bi*ch, into our fold. He’s given her shelter at MY Townhouse. Did you know THAT, my little brainless bi*ch, before you came here to insult me before my men?’
Proserpina had been listening to her husband with a growing feeling of horror. She had called Piers immediately after Claude had rung up to tell her about Lucien raising his hand on Piers. But the young man had seemed distracted, mumbling something, asking her not to get involved…
Had she read the situation wrong?
She became aware that her husband had turned away, and was now standing, breathing hard, his hand on the back of his neck as he stood, facing away from her, breathing heavily. As always, he had unbuttoned his shirt to his waist and she looked at the strong shoulders tapering down to the slim hips, the six-pack abs he still sported visible as he moved.
She sighed, biting her lip as she scrambled down, landing on the floor and then she softly padded over barefooted, to Lucien. He was staring into the distance, scowling.
‘Lucien,’ she whispered,’ Please, Lucien, I am sorry…’
As his gaze sliced to her face, seeing the remorse, the guilt, his eyes softened slightly. She had rushed to defend her child, in true mother hen mode, he thought drily as she stepped to him, her gaze repentant, her arms going around his waist, pressing her body to his as he turned her face up to him, blinking rapidly.
Proserpina knew that Lucien would make things right. It was an undying faith she had in her husband. True, she might not always agree with his heavy-handed methods, but at the end of the day, he managed to achieve so much more with his blunt and brutal ways.
Her parted, plump lips were inviting and he bent his head, swooping down to kiss her hard, pushing her back and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to him.