LucienWhen the ambulance entered the compound of the hospital he had chosen, the cars riding ahead had already alerted the nurses who stood ready and waiting to whisk Proserpina away. She was bleeding and unconscious and Lucien’s heart broke as he saw the whiteness of her face.His Woman had stepped in front of him when the firing had started, to protect him.She had wanted to save him, worthless piece of trash as he was, because she loved him, because She had made him a finer version of himself. And all he had done was hurt her, use her delectable body or his satisfaction…While she had loved him unconditionally all the time, borne him child after child, obeyed him, cared for him.LOVED him....A wave of self-condemnation swept over the Don and he wanted to tear off the bandages from his arm in self-disgust.A flesh wound, that was all it had been, although the bullet that had struck his thigh could have caused more damage, it had also missed any major artery. The medics had plaster
ProserpinaI was floating above the room.Once, a very long time ago, I had listened in as a visiting Hindu nun was having a conversation with the novice nuns in that amazing little monastery in Bhutan.She had been addressing a group of young nuns who were still learning to imbibe the teachings of various other religious doctrines. The old lady, clad in a saffron-coloured sari, her shaved head bare and brown as a nut, had a strange dignity and grace as she sat at ease, cross-legged and serene. Having traveled all the way from India, she had been answering a whispered question from one of the young novices who had asked her about death.‘When one dies, our spirit leaves the body,’ she had been saying in her soft voice and I had leaned against one of the cool pillars, in the shadows, listening as she went on.‘The spirit, the soul, hovers above the body for a few hours. And then it leaves.’One of the more outspoken young nuns piped up,‘And if the soul does not want to leave?’There w
There was an increase in the flurry of activity in the theatre.Nurses and white-clad doctors rushed in and out; when a man in white darted out, a fine sheet of sweat on his face, Lucien grabbed him by the lapels.“THE F*CK IS HAPPENING IN THERE?’ he bellowed, crazed with grief and pain.The man gasped,‘Let me down, Sir, we need …’Piers and Schwartz had rushed over even as Ria stood, with Philippe holding her, little Rudy clinging to her in fear.‘She’s sinking,’ said the man, for there was a massive hand on his throat, his face was red as the Boss’s son and best friend freed him from the clutches of the Mafia Don.“NO!’ yelled Lucien, as he thrust Piers and Schwartz away with his hands, intent on dragging the terrified-looking young doctor and exacting revenge on him for imagined harms done to his beloved Woman,“NO! THE F*CK YOU LOSE HER, YOU B^STARD, YOU M*THER F*CKING …”Schwartz gripped his best friend, using all his strength and Claude rushed up too. Paddy stood, flapping his
Lucien Delano was dreaming.He was recalling a night when he had entered the house late and strode to his room. The house had been in darkness, the children safely in bed. He could hear Bea and Camille murmuring as Camille left for the cottage on the grounds where she lived with Beston, her husband.A gun deal had gone wrong, and he was still smarting from the failure.All he wanted was to shower and climb into bed with his pretty little wife, maybe take her roughly…When he walked into his penthouse suite in the mansion, he saw that the walk-in wardrobe door was open; his pretty wife, her luscious body wrapped in a robe, was standing, her back to him, intently examining something in her hands. So riveted was her perusal that she had not heard him come in and she jumped when he growled.“Woman?’A guilty flush spreading over her cheeks, she hastily turned, her hands going behind her back in a pathetic attempt to hide what she had been holding. The Don stared hard at her, eyes narrowin
She mumbled,"Yes Sir...' and her molten brown eyes, clouded with desire and want, with pain and pleasure, misted over as she looked at him, beseeching him to release her from her need.Her absolute submission aroused him tenfold, and the big man growled shakily, for the sight of her large breasts with the evil clamps fastened to her tender nipples was too much for him.“I shall f*ck your t*ts today, wh*re,’ he said hoarsely, "to punish you. Pain, wh*re, and pleasure."She made a sound, her breasts wobbling as she tried not to shift too much, but he lowered his head to sink his teeth into the fleshy mounds savagely, and she cried out.He tugged lightly at the clamps with his teeth, and she met his eyes, her own filled with tears of pain but she dimpled slightly as she said breathlessly,'Master... I am yours, Lucien Delano..."He grunted.F*ck, but he could never have enough of this delectable offering laid before him: this lush body, the thighs wet with her want, her shining pink c*n
Lucien looked around at his family who were in the large waiting room. The younger boys, Dom and Lou, were piled on a sofa, their mouths open as they snored softly; Tara was curled up in an armchair with Aiyana beside her, an arm draped protectively around the child. The ex-FBI woman sat, her legs folded elegantly even in sleep.James Schwartz was sitting in another chair while the Capo dozed uncomfortably, Ria’s golden head on his lap, Rudy nestled beside her. Lucien’s face softened slightly as he looked at James. As though his thoughts had touched his second in command, the Scotsman stirred and stretched, sitting up, alert in an instant.He looked around himself and met Lucien’s eyes, an unspoken look passing between them.Snoring loudly, Claude was sprawled in abandon, sleeping on a mattress someone had thoughtfully provided, which was spread on the floor, his arms thrown wide, while Paddy had chosen to settle in an armchair close to the corridor leading to the theatre door, positi
Lucien stood, staring in shock as a beaming Camille reached out to hand over the little baby to him. He stared in confusion for he had never held any of his newborn kids; it was a first for him.But even as he hesitated, the little child, its skin pink and puckered, a thatch of dark hair on its tiny head, opened one eye and looked at him quizzically an eyebrow raised questioningly, weighing him up critically so to speak, before shutting her eye firmly and ignoring the people around her, her mouth blowing a red raspberry pout.Ria and the other children began to laugh as Lou cried, with a shout of laughter,“Pappa, Sir, she is not impressed by you!’But it was Ria who declared, wonderingly, as she leaned against Lucien, who was holding the precious bundle cupped to his chest fiercely,“Pappa, I think she has Mumma’s colouring!”***ProserpinaI opened my eyes slowly. It felt as though there were weights holding my lids down. It had been a dream that seemed to go on forever, tumultuous
RiaShe was running down a corridor that stretched out endlessly. The sound of the man’s footsteps thundering after her made her pant in fear. He was after her. She stumbled and fell, picked herself up, and kept running, her hands reaching out in the dark for some door, some way out of this place. And then, suddenly, out of the blue, she grabbed a shirt sleeve.The face of the man looked up in front of her.She screamed as Dusak’s face appeared out of the gloom, grinning maniacally.He had blood pouring down his forehead and a large hole in his cheek where he had been shot. But he opened his mouth and spoke in a guttural voice she knew she had heard before.“LOVELY Ria, my Ria, I am going to be with you forever now...'He reached out a long skeletal hand with talons, and that was when Ria screamed.Dusak Rudenko began shaking her throat ungently, and she felt a gurgle of panic erupt within her. A deep fear, unnamed and unknown.And then Philippe’s voice came into her consciousness, be