Hila

Piers stood at the window, unable to sleep. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to feel Hila Zaidi in his arms, hell, he wanted to take her, roughly, the way they always mated.

The phone pinged as though it had heard his silent plea. He grabbed it and looked at the screen.

“Wait for me in the Town House, pretty boy.”

That was all. He sighed, raking his hand through his fair, tousled hair again,

He needed a smoke. And he needed her.

Without pausing to think, he called the security at the gate. He was leaving. He had to meet the woman he ached for. The woman who had saved them tonight. Striding out, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, his jacket over his shoulder. He noted the lights under the doors of his twin sister and his younger brother, his lips twisting cynically.

He had an urgent task to carry out now; he wanted Hila to meet his father. The approval of his Pappa was all that he craved and Hila had done something which had earned her the grudging admiration of the Don. Piers h