The Irishman was the first to come awake; his phone was ringing and he opened an eye and scowled, scratching his stubbled jaw as he glared at the phone.
Who the f*ck was calling him at this time of the night? he thought grumpily, reaching for it.
Bianca was nestled between them and sleeping like a baby.
O’Grady took a moment to look at her, her soft features and parted lips making him long to feel her, to take her once again.
But the phone was continuing to ring stridently.
Scowling, the Irishman picked it up.
Then he yelped as he read the message which had popped up and St Just who had come awake too, was lying with an arm thrown around Bianca’s waist.
Now Finn St Just raised himself on an elbow and frowned at O’Grady in consternation.
“What the f*ck is it, bro?” he demanded, sitting up.
“Claude f*cking Delano wants me down in the basement gym for a practice fight.” cried O’Grady, leaping up and pulling on his trousers, the ones he had discarded on the floor the previous night. St Just peered at him in astonishment.
“It’s f*cking 4 am, bro!” he growled, unwilling to wake Bianca who had turned to nestle against his chest.
O’Grady looked hassled as he dragged a shirt over his brawny, hirsute chest.
“I have to go, Saint,” he panted as he groped to pull on his socks,
‘He’s got his father waiting for me.”
And even as S Just looked at him, jaw-dropping, O’Grady strode out in a hurry.
*
Earlier that night
Claude had been pacing up and down in the long corridor outside his father’s study, while both Dom and Louis waited with him, leaning against the wall. There was the sound of their father’s rasping growl, but no noise from their Mumma. When the door opened after a long while, they tuned in trepidation, but it was the Mafia don who stood there, in his crimson dressing gown.
Louis shook his head mentally- Mumma and Pappa always made it to bed to make up.
He sometimes marvelled at his Mumma’s penchant to forgive her husband. Piers had been livid and Hila had dragged him away, his m=nose still bleeding as he stalked off, furiously.
He looked weary and older than the young men had seen before. But the steel in his voice was evident as he snarled,
“She’s fine. Your Mumma is sleeping .” his face had softened in something like regret as he said it and Claude thought in shock,
“Damn, but he’s still in love with her; he’s f*cking crazy about her!”
Both Louis and Dom had also come to a similar conclusion. Their formidable father looked tired and regretful, as though having caused pain to Proserpina Delano had made him feel guilty.
Lucien Delano looked around and barked,
“Where’s Piers?”
It was Dom who stepped forward and said clearly,
“Hila took him away. He was bleeding.”
The Don shot him a sharp look and turned to go inside. Then, as though a sudden thought had struck him, he turned to Claude and growled,
“Where’s that horny Irishman?”
Claude looked bemused.
“In bed, I guess,” he replied lamely and quailed as his father sent him a dark look.
“He has a fight in a few days, right?” snapped Lucien and Claude nodded.
“Get him to the gym, I want to see him fight. With you.”
He said it in a sharp , commanding tone that brooked no argument and Claude reeled.
But when the Mafia Don turned to fix him with a laser-like look, he nodded quickly,
“Yes Sir, on it, sir,” he gulped and trotted off, ringing O’Grady as he went.
Mentally he cursed his bad luck: Karina had seemed ready to let him back into her bed tonight. And now, he would be drained and sweaty when his father finally let him go to sleep.
*
Bianca stretched an arm and patted the bed. There was no sign of either of her Masters.
She sat up in a flash, her hair falling around her as he peered into the gloom. St Just was on the balcony, on his phone. Curious, she padded across and heard him.
“…find her…Perez.”
As St Just sensed Bianca’s presence, he turned and abruptly cut off the call.
“Sugar?” he said and stepped to her, drawing her into his arms.
“Who was that?” she asked, hiding a yawn. He lifted her in his arms, like a child, and carried her back to bed.
Bianca was soon asleep, snuggled against the man she trusted and loved, even as she wondered where O’Grady had disappeared to in the middle of the night.
*
Lucine Delano strode across to the ensuite bathroom. The large bedroom with the huge bed, had a dim lamp glowing and it outlined the glow on Proserpina’s dark head as she slumbered. He stopped and went to stand, looking down at her, a faint smile on his firm lips.
His Woman, he thought, he had made her endure so much pain. But she had surrendered to him in her exquisitely submissive manner, letting him make love to her, as gently as he could, for he was a ferocious lover.
Poor Proserpina had fallen asleep immediately after and he had used a warm washcloth on her, even as she lay, helplessly before him.
But she had gripped his wrists and pleaded,
“Don’t Lucien…don’t hurt my sons…” her eyes , tear-filled had torn him and he sank to his knees beside her on the bed, kissing her softly as he growled,
“I lost my temper, woman. I shall not…I’m sorry, Proserpina…” She stroked his cheek and they kissed again a long kiss, before she drifted off to sleep.
Now, covering her with the blanket, he stepped into his walk-in wardrobe and dressed.
The Mafia Don’s mind was working over time. He seethed, Gabriella Perez would pay for this evening’s attack on his Woman. He was going to find Gabriella and make her pay.
As he buttoned his shirt and pulled on his jacket, he realized that he had a strong inkling that his former lover would turn up at the Fight and try to finish what she had started.
She would make an attempt on His Woman’s life.
Because that one act would destroy him. It was no secret that the Boss loved Proserpina and that he would be destroyed if anything happened to her, his beloved Woman.
Gabriella had provoked him by this act, all in retaliation for his hand in bringing down her sex trafficking racket.
She had made the first move and begun this dangerous game.
And now, the Mafia Don was determined to kill her before she made another attempt on Proserpina.
Lucien Delano would kill Gabriela Perez, his former lover, with his bare hands.