Proserpina “Mumma, can I help with those?’ demanded a persistent voice at my elbow, and I sighed.It was Tara.I had baked a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies for my boys who were home from their elite boarding school. But the entire batch I had baked the day before had been devoured.Now I sighed and turned to smile at Lou and Dom along with Tara, who had entered the kitchen. Tara came to me and began to help me.“Is it for Claude’s girl?’ asked Dom, who had no sense of decorum at times.I sighed. The boys were now almost as tall as me, as was Tara.“Help yourself, “I said drily, for I had seen the gleam in Dom’s eyes as he looked at the macaroons I had baked, the flavoured, delicate cookies sandwiched together with a creamy filling between them. After cooling them slightly on the baking sheet, we removed the cookies from their shells and paired them up according to their size. Tara and I had painstakingly sandwiched them together with ganache, buttercream, and jam filling to mak
HilaShe entered the house and was immediately assailed by the aroma of cooking; tempting, appetizing whiffs of food long-forgotten, wafted into her nostrils; familiar ones, nostalgic ones that brought back memories of sunny, laughter-filled afternoons with her family.Astonished, Hila turned to Piers instinctively. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the dim corridor.“Mumma,” he said simply and that explained everything.The achingly familiar aroma of chicken in honey garlic, roasted for special Shabbos dinners by her mother when she was a small child in Israel, accompanied by honey-glazed carrots, tantalised her reminiscently. She sighed unconsciously and did not notice Piers sliding a quick, triumphant grin at her. Another familiar aroma: could it be…?Piers was hurrying her along the carpeted corridor, an urgent hand on the small of her back although she wanted to linger and savour those tantalising aromas. She knew the familiar aroma of lamb chops, as they basked in the deli
Hila “Thank you for saving my family,” said the Boss in his rasping baritone, leaning back in his chair, the narrow-eyed, hooded gaze never leaving her face.Hila met the steely gaze and tried not to flinch. The man carried an undeniable arrogance, a sense of power. Added to that, was the sexual aura about him, like a cloak that made women want to throw themselves at him, to be used by him, for she doubted that he knew what it meant to be tender, to be loving.No, this was a man who took women to bed to satisfy his urges, who would know how to be cruel, to punish. She wondered fleetingly what the equation between Pier’s mother and this massive, brooding man was like.Surely, despite having such a large brood of kids, he was not a man who knew how to love?, she thought as she studied the brutish-looking man before her.He was dressed impeccably, in a pale grey suit with the white shirt open to his waist, revealing a muscled, hirsute chest. But it could not detract from his underlying a
Hila She stood, unable to decide what was happening around her.The beautiful woman who had unhesitatingly gone close to the Boss, was years younger than him and was obviously pregnant. Once again? thought Hila incredulously, more kids? How did she do it and still retain that youthful, serene look?The lovely woman with her hair in a messy bun, made to follow the Boss but then stopped and smiled fondly at Hila.“Dear Hila,’ she said, her voice soft and melodious as she added,” Forgive our manners but we tend to be a little boisterous.’She gave Hila a quick hug and then left, her wide hips swaying as she hurried after the Mafia Don who stopped to thunder at her threateningly,“WOMAN!’She was sensuous, every inch of her, thought Hila in undisguised admiration, and most importantly, she had the Don eating out of her hands, despite his bluster. That figure was to die for, the swell of her full breasts and her softly rounded stomach, the wide hips, a body that kept the Maia Don wanting f
Hila She sat in the living room, listening to Ria and Tara as they made her feel at home. Piers and his brothers had left the room and Hila felt strangely comfortable in the company of the young women. Tara spoke about her life in Bhutan and Hila was curious to know more about this strange family. It was unlike any Mafiaso family she had seen.Ria smiled and joined in, stroking the old golden dog that lay at her feet. The shouts of the younger boys could be heard off and on and Hila relaxed for the first time in many yeas.*After a while, Piers re-entered.“Dinner, is served,” he said smiling and she stood up, surprised to see that it was almost two hours since they had entered the living room.Piers smiled again and they moved to the dining room where she saw that the large table was set for dinner with crystal and silverware.As she gaped, Piers said in a low voice, “Mumma wanted to do something special; to make you feel welcome.”Hila felt an unfamiliar burning behind her lids.
HilaShe had woken early, planning to leave at daybreak. But it had been near impossible to leave Piers’ warm body and when he looked at her, just looked at her, his gray-blue eyes soft and pleading, she had succumbed. Rolling on top of him, she kissed him, feeling his erection against her womanhood and they made gentle love. Then, after a shower, she changed into her Goth biker outfit, as Tara had described it. With a wry twist of her lips, she acknowledged that the girl was right.Kissing Piers goodbye, she crept out and headed downstairs. To her astonishment, the St. Claire household seemed to be up and awake, and she found Proserpina talking to Camille in the hallway, a mug of steaming hot coffee in her hands.Proserpina looked up and smiled,“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. Hila sighed. The aromatic blend in Proserpina’s hands was a temptation she could not afford.Proserpina seemed to understand for she came forward. Hila noticed in some amazement, that she was in yoga g
Claude The young boxer was flushed and sweating as he stopped and turned to look at his father. His body was damp and his heart was racing. He had done well, he knew that but what did the man who stood silently on the ground near the ropes, with James Schwartz beside him, leaning on a cane; what did the Mafia Don who was watching him broodingly, from the ground, think?Because the world knew what a pitiless, powerful street fighter Lucien Delano had been a long time ago, a legend in the ring, the man who had never lost a single match during any of his savage Underground fights.Claude Delano wanted to live up to his father’s reputation. It was not an easy thing to dream of achieving but he had been slogging, practicing, for as long as he could remember, for the day when his father would be proud of him.That was all that mattered.After a long time, Lucien Delano growled,“That was …well done, boy!’Paddy, who was skulking in the shadows of the gym, for he was still terrified of the D
LucienHe sat in the front seat of the little amphitheatre, designed specifically to allow the audience to watch fights from a vantage point. The Ring or the Cage, whichever was in use, would be at a lower level, allowing the audience to see clearly without having to crane their necks as blows were delivered, one after the other.He sat, one suave leg crossed over the other, his splendid underground fighting Club, his cherished dream, spread around him. This was unlike his other fighting clubs which housed many cages, and many rings, where mixed martial arts fighters and boxers, all of them could perform at one time as people moved from one to the other, like in some shopping arena. Of course, the prices were exorbitant. But this was more sophisticated. He had the seats designed so that the viewers could recline, sipping drinks of their choice as they watched. Servers moved around discreetly, and all the girls had been trained rigorously by Danielle. They had firm instructions not to