Beth and Anna were upset. They knew that Bianca had been bending over backwards for them. And Anna was only singing praises about the Mafia men to her sister. In private, of course.
She had gone into detail, narrating how the two men had managed to bring down the evil Cahill, even going so far as to put themselves in the line of fire for that.
“And Mom said such horrible things about them!” exclaimed Anna in a fierce whisper, scrubbing her tears away as her mother lay, whining and wailing.
Neither of the twins had been impressed by Luigi who had slunk away when his daughter had read him the riot act. As Beth put it,
“He was a wimp.”
The sisters looked at each other, with identical expressions of disgust, as their mother sniffed and glared at them suspiciously.
“You two should not follow in her footsteps,” began Heather. But Beth, the pragmatic one rose to her feet.
She had had more than she could take with her mother’s self-righteousness.
As she had confided in her twin, she just wanted to puke if Mom began to list the virtues of the absent Luigi.
“Mommie,” she snapped,” Bee did so much for us. We’re in a super school only cos of her. And you,” she pointed an accusatory finger at her mother here,
“You are lying there, in an uber-comfortable hospital bed, in one of the top hospitals in town, all thanks to her!”
And Beth stormed out, tears in her eyes.
Anna followed her out while Heather gaped.
What was happening? Why did her daughters, her own flesh and blood, not understand how heartbroken she was at Luigi’s desertion, all of which was because of Bianca and her slut*y ways?
It was raining as the large sedan in which the Mafia men were travelling entered the city of Hunter’s Folly.
Neither of the brothers had said much during the long journey, each lost in their own dark, gloomy thoughts. St Just squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned back on the headrest.
O’Grady was brooding. He needed a stiff drink. His mind wandered; he would have to get to the Casinos, and check to see what was happening.
Bianca Cruz had become a part of their lives during the course of the year.
Loved and cherished by them. How would they go on without her?
He could still picture her as she lay with them, her legs parted, while he buried his head between her thighs, eating her pus*y. And St Just would enjoy her incomparable blow jobs…
Damn.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg. For Bianca Cruz was not just a warm and yielding body she had become a part of them. Her lovely smile, her tinkling laugh, the way she tossed her head, her eyes dancing…
And her kindness, her concern.
Finn St Just glanced towards ‘Grady who was tipping the bottle back, draining every drop.
Poor chap, he had been wildly excited to get married to Bianca. He was crazy after her, loved her and St Just had never seen him so besotted by a woman, ever before.
But this had broken his spirit. It was evident in the dullness of the big man’s eyes.
“You going to the Casino tonight bro?” asked St Just.
O’Grady shook his head wearily.
No, he thought, not tonight. He felt bruised and deadened.
A date with a crate of vodka would do just fine, thank you, he thought bitterly, his knuckles white as he clenched his big hands.
His hand went involuntarily, to the little box in his trouser pocket. He laughed harshly, a humourless sound and his brother turned to him, frowning.
“The first and only time we thought of making a woman ours, sealing the damned union, making it legal…f*ck. Look what that got us!”
St Just said nothing.
They had chosen the ring with care and had imagined how it would sparkle on their Pet’s fine hands…
Bitterness flooded him. Damn that crazy witch, the stepmother. She did not begin to understand just how Bianca had given up so much for her and her daughters.
“Ah, Sweet Jaysus,” growled O’Grady. He had been drinking steadily from his hip flask throughout the journey and now, as he held it up to the light, he saw that it was empty.
The phone rang. He glanced at the caller id and quickly turned it on,
Claude Delano’s bluff, hearty voice came over the line.
“O’Grady, your gal is safe; Mumma has taken her under her wing.”
O’Grady put the phone on speaker, his voice thick as he spoke,
“Thanks, man. I owe you.” And after a second, he went on,
“How’s she?”
Claude took his time in answering and that raised the doubts in the minds of the two men who were craning to listen to him over the steady drumming of the rain on the car.
‘She’s…feeling rough, yeah.” Said Claude finally, with a sigh, for he was completely alien to subterfuge.
And then, he carried on,” Hey man, she’s had a rough day…”
He went on,
“But Mumma can make her feel better, trust me.” The confidence and pride with which he spoke was reassuring.
As they ended the call, he said,
“You do remember that there’s another fight next month? You need to prep, man.”
O’ Grady grunted and made a non-committal reply.
The last thing he wanted to do was enter the ring. He felt devastated. His brother looked at him in the gloom of the car as they turned into the driveway of their large bungalow on the hills.
A silent message passed between them. They had each other. But it would take time to get over Bianca Cruz.
At the Delano mansion, Bianca was weeping, her head in Proserpina’s lap. The Mafia don’s Woman comforted her silently, stroking her hair, just as she used to do her daughters. Jamie bounded into the room and stopped short.
“Why’s she crying?” she demanded, and then, her eyes narrowing as she pushed back her brown braid, she raised her voice slightly and snapped,
“Why’s she on YOUR lap, Mumma?”
The Mafia Don’s strident voice came from behind her.
“Who is on my Woman’s lap?”
Bianca scrambled to her feet, swinging her legs awkwardly off the bed.
The Mafia Don, Lucien Delano, stood in the doorway, scowling as he saw her. But Proserpina stepped forward, her eyes clear as she said firmly,
‘Lucien, I need to talk to you. ”
And turning to Bianca, she said softly, “Rest, child. I’ll send someone with soup for you.”
She gently kissed the young woman’s head and left, her hand on her formidable husband’s arm.