Meeting the Don

I shrank back in distress, trying to come to terms with this bolt from the blue; also trying hard to hide behind burly Jazz as Lucien Delano began to speak.

That heartbreakingly familiar voice from that single night of passion, raspy and gruff, thanked the people who had turned up to wish him well. He made a joke, and everyone roared with laughter, but I wasn't listening; something about an injury while “f*cking a woman” which had somehow led to his being hurt in the leg, which was why he was limping. At any other time, I would have winced at his derogatory words regarding the woman but I was too traumatised to think lucidly. The drumming of the blood in my ears shut out all the sounds around me.

He can't see me, I told myself, and I peeked from behind Jazz. With a shock, I realised that I was hungry to catch a glimpse of him. Of those wide shoulders and the powerful, muscled chest, of that hard, square chin with a dimple…

And with it came the thought swift and painful, was he married