Proserpina
True to her inimitable nature, Ria had begun to call him Pappa. I guessed that she had been asking questions and speaking to the young sons of the head gardener. The little boys, Jose and Phillipe, came in the afternoons and sometimes played with my children. Watching them interact with their father, Jean Louise had probably ignited the curiosity in her to find out about her own father.
Piers refused to have anything to do with Lucien and slid off the chair after he was done. As the nurse took Ria away to brush her teeth, she stopped at the door, her small paw in the woman's hand.
Turning, she tugged at the woman's hand and broke free. Trotting up to her father's seat, she placed a tiny hand on his dark sleeve and dimpled up at him, imploringly as she said in a soft voice, batting her lids entreatingly,
'Papa, read Tia stoyy," she urged giving him a toothless smile to add to the statement. Translated to mean, Pappa, read Ria a story.
It was a familiar routine for my children, beginning from the days when we were in Bhutan. I would curl up on their bed with a book, a picture book of course, and read them a story. It had become a sacred ritual and the twins never went to bed without a story from me every night. To watch her ask Lucien to join in this ritual almost broke my heart. I had not realised how she silently longed to have a father in her life.
Biting my lip, I studied the emotions chasing across my Mafia Don's cruel face as he tried to grapple with his emotions.
'No, Ria..." I began as her small face crumpled when Lucien remained silent, looking at her, broodingly. ' Mumma will do that. I'll read you your favourite story, the one about the Blue Frog.'
Her face lit up.
The story of a Blue Frog who discovered wondrous things in an enchanted forest was her all-time favourite. Beaming, she skipped to me in her pyjamas, her face shining.
Scooping my baby in my arms, I murmured 'Excuse me,' and fled without meeting the probing pale eyes of the man who dominated the room with his large, silent presence.
' Mumma will always read you your favourite stories at bedtime, pumpkin,' I whispered, nuzzling her hair. As we left, I knew that the big built man sitting alone in the enormous dining room followed us with his cold eyes and I felt his gaze burning into me.
***
After the little ones had completed their nightly routine of brushing their teeth and splashing each other in the process, which involved me getting drenched too, we returned, laughing, to the nursery where the maids were waiting.
I smiled and nodded at them,
'I'll be reading to them; you may leave,' I said pleasantly as I carried Piers in.
A few minutes later, the little ones were tucked in. Their eyes drooped with sleep, but the bedtime story reading was a ritual we all looked forward to.
I sat beside them, reading Ria's favourite story about a frog that travelled to the North Pole this time.
Halfway through the story, the kids fell asleep. Smiling gently, I bent over and kissed them, whispering a Buddhist chant for peace.
Waves of exhaustion flooded me. The day had been stressful. Stretching my arms above my head tiredly I rolled my hips. A sudden mild flutter in my stomach reminded me of my situation and my hands went to my belly as I winced. Then I straightened and turned and almost leapt out of my skin.
Lucien Delano stood there, leaning against the door, his pale eyes on me.
It was probably the very first time he had visited the nursery and I stood staring at him, panic-stricken. When I took a step back, I almost fell as I stumbled over the teddy bears and assorted toys that lay on the floor.
His lightning reflexes had Lucien move forward swiftly and grab my waist, pulling me towards him to steady me. I looked up at him wordlessly and his dark gaze raked my face, dropping to my neckline and my full breasts, the tops of which were visible.
For a long moment, we remained like that, frozen, the desire in his eyes holding me captive.
Then I pushed at his arms, bowing my head and licking my dry lips as I whispered,
"Please, I... Please ..'.
And then, in a stronger voice, without raising my head, I said,
'Lucien, please, let me go.'
His arms, which had been anchoring me to his body, dropped to his sides abruptly. Stepping back, he stood still, breathing harshly.
I knew he was aroused, it had been evident when he held me close to him, his throbbing manhood urgently pressing against me.
But I was not ready to give in. I had taken as much as I could from him. Not anymore.
As I stepped away shakily, putting some distance between us, he turned and strode to the doorway.
Stopping there, he turned, the light shining on one side of his face as he growled,
"Dinner was excellent. You are a marvelous cook.'
His pale eyes gleamed, and I knew that he meant it but I was beyond replying, so I stood mutely, my eyes wide as I watched him.
I reached up and stood there, my fingers touching my mouth.
For some time we stood like actors in a tableau, staring at each other, the pent-up desire between us so strong, it was like some physical thing there, in the room.
Then with a curt "Good night,' he strode away.
I sighed and slumped against the wall, my head reeling, my body crying for him.
I sank to the bed on shaky legs to sit beside my daughter, who lay sleeping peacefully.
That night as I slept alone in the large bed in my room, I longed to have my lover's arms around me, his harsh body claiming me, possessing me...