Bianca seemed to grow wan and pale every time the phone rang. Barry had stationed a couple of men at the apartment to take care of matters aside from himself. Although she felt terrified to leave Cian behind, Bianca still appeared at the Casino. That night, as she moved about, she could not help glancing over her shoulder repeatedly. It felt as though someone was watching her. A croupier at a table whose eyes slid away when she looked at him.A couple of strangers who entered the casino at midnight and stayed to move around, without really being involved in the games.Then there was the new woman they had hired to serve the clients. She seemed extremely nervous when Bianca looked across at her, almost toppling a tray full of drinks on to a client’s lap in her panic. All that evening, as she glided around with her face a cool mask of power and casual disdain, Bianca face a mask of calm, Bianca felt she was being walked, not walking—guided by something unseen, by the rhythm of ritua
It was bound to get worse, for the man who had put her in his crosshairs was Snake. the man with the deformed face and heart full of rage; his only desire being to wreak vengeance upon Roxanne and anyone connected to her…Bianca was woken from her sleep at a little after two am. thinking it to be her Masers, for they did have a habit of calling at odd hours, just to check on her, she groggily fumbled for the phone and lifted it without thought.“hello…” she said softly, eyes still shut.“You have a present.” The voice was robotic, and Bianca shot up in bed, alarm coursing through her.“Who…who is this?” she cried. The door opposite hers, which led to Barry and Sylvie’s bedroom, burst open, and Barry charged in, looking ready to fight anyone who had dared to threaten her. He seized the phone from her nervless fingers just as Sylvie tore in, wearing a laser lemon yellow negligee.She would have looked absurd at any other moment but now, Bianca turned ot her wordlessly, a mute appeal in
Bianca knew she had made a terrible mistake when she began to receive the phone calls.It began a few days after the altercation with Nico Piccolo.At first, it was just a couple of calls.She had been in the living room, holding her son and cooing to him after fixing up a simple breakfast for herself. Sylvie had left for a rare day off to the Clubhouse, where the bikers were meeting. A wedding, she had explained as she styled her brassy curls and preened for Bianca’s perusal. Bianca had whistled and Barry had chortled when Sylvie had blushed like a teenager.Bianca found it unbelievably cute when the two old lovebirds made eyes at each other. Fr all his macho figure, Barry was a softie at heart, she concluded as she looked at his face. The man was ogling his partner of many years, a look of lascivious desire in his normally blank face.“She looks sexy, Barry, c’mon, admit it!” Bianca had teased. The older man, his big body covered in tats, had turned beet-red, his ears were glowing.
The Delano palatial estate was large, and that was an understatement. Almost a hundred rooms, Beatrice boasted to anyone who cared to listen, which was a bit of an exaggeration, of course!Set at the end of a winding drive lined with ancient oaks, the mansion stood in grand, gentle defiance of time—vast, sprawling, and full of life. Its architecture was an elegant patchwork of eras: a wide front with high-arched windows and ivy-clad stone, wings that had been added over generations, and a warm, terracotta-tiled roof stretching out in all directions like the skirts of a noblewoman settling into her chair.The grounds unfolded endlessly around it—rolling lawns broken by old fountains, sun-drenched courtyards, flowerbeds in glorious disarray, and wide terraces where vines clambered over wrought-iron railings. A hedge maze curled like a secret to one side, and orchards stretched into the distance on the other, the trees heavy with fruit in the summer haze. Stone paths wandered without hur
Piers Delano was furious. He was, as Claude would have said, Hopping Mad. And that, for the young mob Boss, was an unusual occurrence.His normally cool demeanour had vanished, and he was puffing away on a cigarette furiously as he stared out at the dark night slipping away outside his tinted window.The cars in his cavalcade shot across the countryside, but he was oblivious to anything but the thoughts swirling around in his head.He adored his mother, much more than he respected his father. And that was the simple truth. He would lay his life down to keep Mumma safe. And happy.All during his growing years, he had watched Lucien Delano as he moved from being a man who was barely civil to his first firstborns, to the man gradually came round to cherishing his daughters and sons. And now, to an adoring, indulging grandfather, who doted on his grandchildren. But…Some wounds do not ever heal.Piers had grown up, seeing the distress on his young mother’s face, had heard her sob quietly
Bianca headed in the direction of the Craps table, determination in her stride. Barry was close behind her, and three of the other wingmen tailed her discreetly.The craps table was alive, a glowing island of green felt under bright overhead lights, surrounded by a semi-circle of players — some casual, others clearly veterans. Chips clacked in eager fingers. The air pulsed with energy, conversation, and the occasional roar of laughter.A sharp-faced stickman, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black vest, leaned forward, his long wooden stick poised like a conductor’s baton. “Coming out!” he called, voice cutting through the hum of the casino floor.At the centre of the action stood the shooter — a woman in a sequined black dress, focused and smiling invitingly. She selected two red dice from a neat row that the stickman had offered moments ago. The rest were swept away by the stick’s graceful swoop. She shook the dice in one hand with a practised flick, then hurled them across the ta