The Mafia Don’s craggy handsome face was hard as he looked into his Woman’s flushed face. She was upset, he thought with a pang, knowing, before she parted her plump lips, that he would agree to whatever she asked him, no matter how outlandish. He just wanted to erase the frown of worry, the look of anxiety from her face.
She leaned into him now, as though she wanted to borrow his strength, her soft brown eyes, filled with sadness, meeting his.
“Lucien,” she began,” That poor child…” but they were interrupted by a cross voice at their elbow.
“She’s not a CHILD, Mumma,”
It was a frustrated-looking Jamie. Lucien’s heart filled with warmth as he gazed at her, his favourite child, the one he spoilt rotten. As Proserpina said reproachfully, It was wrong to single her out for his affection. Poor Rudy could turn cartwheels before the Mafia Don and he would not even notice!
Whereas young Jamie only had to pout and her father woud rush to do her bidding.
As Tara declared drily,
“Pappa was growing soft in his dotage.”
Now he looked at his daughter fondly and said,
“I need ot listen to your Mumma, pumpkin.” She nodded, for Jamie knew that her mother would be annoyed wither and she knew who buttered her bread in the house; her mother saw to that.
But she turned as she flounced away, grinning cheekily at them over her shoulder as she sang out mischievously,
“Pappa, will it involve getting into the broom closet and kissing Mumma too?”
Her mother’s face turned pink and the Mafia Don pretended to scowl as his daughter darted away, chuckling. His woman was still blushing as he tilted her face to his with a calloused hand.
“No need to hide in cupboards when I feel like f*cking you again, eh?” he teased and she buried her hot face in his jacket, inhaling the smell of her lover, the only man who had ever made love to her.
After he had kissed her thoroughly, she placed her hands on his chest, and said, gasping,
“I was telling you about …Bianca…”
He nodded, his mouth moving down her neck and she groaned,
“Lucien, PLEASE!’ he stopped and bit her nape, after sucking it.
She sighed and her arms went around his neck. He dragged her to the nearest room, a small room where she kept the laundry and slamming the door, hiked her skirts up before plunging his eager erection, dripping pre cum, into her. She moaned helplessly. He was like a bull, ramming into her mercilessly, grunting and she was at his mercy. And loving it. Later, as she collapsed in his arms, he said, in his deep baritone,’ What about that waif?”
She sagged against him, as she looked at him dreamily, her thoughts jumbled while she struggled to think clearly.
The Don gave a deep rumbling laugh and she turned her face into his chest.
*
The decision was made for Bianca by the Mafia Don’s wife and the family.
Serena, who often dropped by to play with the large brood of kids, was the one who volunteered to help Bianca.
“She needs a place to stay in till her term begins, I’m guessing, “said the slim-hipped redhead, who had Karina’s young son on her hip as she munched on one of Proserpina’s freshly baked cookies. They were in the kitchen and Tara was sunning herself, with Bianca and Karina keeping an eye on the kids along with the three nurses.
Proserpina, who had a huge soft spot for Serena, smiled. Her own youngest sons were on the lawns, running around, whooping and creating a ruckus.
“I’ll keep her at my place if she wants,” offered Serena as she nibbled on another cookie absently. She had just finished handling a high-profile kidnapping involving a serial killer and Louis was still hyperventilating as he discovered how close she had come to dying.
Proserpina dimpled happily.
*
St Just was at the Kink club he used to frequent a few months ago. But somehow, he could not, as Claude Delano said in his blunt way, ‘get it up.’
He stood, clad in his trousers, naked waist upwards, his lean muscled body gleaming with sweat as he stared unseeingly at the submissive at his feet. He had been flogging her half-heartedly. Now he stopped. No way was he going to feel anything for this poor girl who was looking at him expectantly.
“Master Finn…?” she whined pathetically and St Just flung down the riding crop he had been using. His companions, some other men who frequented the place, stared in surprise as he strode out.
“What …is she not good enough?” panted the plump manager as he raced up. St Just was one of their favoured customers.
“Nope, I’m not in the mood today, Gavin” snapped St Just who could not wait to get out of the building.
He knew that his brother was a step ahead of him. Poor Liam O’Grady was drowning his sorrows in drink.
“Can’t feel it for another pus*y,” he slurred as St Just hauled him to bed the night before. And to his astonishment, the big Irishman had held his head between his hands and said brokenly,
“Sweet Jaysus. Took me long enough to see it, eh Saint?”
And raising his eyes which were like dark pools of sorrow, the fighter said,
“F*ck, but I love Bianca, Saint. And no other woman is anywhere close to her. I can’t…”
and he buried his face again in his large hands.
*
Bianca looked round at the small, compact but well-maintained apartment that Serena Kingston had brought her to.
“You can have my guest room, Bianca,” said the flame-headed woman, tossing her long red ponytail over her shoulder carelessly.
“And the fridge is always stocked with home-cooked lunches and dinners, thanks to Mumma.”
She smiled and Bianca envied her for a second, for Proserpina was the kind of mother-in-law you would kill for!
She sighed as she carried her mall bag to the guestroom. Her college hostel would only be functioning at the end of the month. And she would have been on the stees if Proserpina ahd not stepped in.
Beth and Anna kept her in the loop; and told her how they had shifted to the old home where Bianca had grown up. She smiled bitterly. The house was intact because her Masters had stepped in and bought it. The deeds were in her name, they had told her a long time ago.
Sighing, she leant her forehead on the glass window, looking out sightlessly.
She missed them with every breath, Liam O’Grady, his wicked sense of humour, his rakish good looks…his lovemaking, rough and so satisfying, so thorough.
And as for St Just, she missed his mellow smile, the way his eyes slowly lit up, his caring…and his Dom aura, when he whipped her…She moaned and shut her eyes.
But she would not be an embarrassment any longer. Not for herself.
She, Biaca needed some space to think for herself, without any crushing sense of obligation overruling her decisions. As Serena pointed out when they were sitting in the Delano kitchen, munching on some goodies,
‘ You need to decide for yourself.’
Staring into the bright morning sunlight, she thought, I need to know how I feel for them, without the overriding sense of being obliged, handing over my head.
I need to find myself, without putting someone else before me, as I have always done. Shrugging her shoulders, she stepped out of the room.