All Chapters of A Pet for the Mafia Dons: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

Bianca spent the next few days in a state of fugue. She ate when her Master came to hold her and feed her; she slept when they wrapped their arms around her and held her to their warm bodies. She washed and dressed in a nightmare state, going about her motions like a zombie. Poor little Cian watched his Mommie, wondering why she was so distant seeming to ignore him, look through him. Beth and Anna had left. While the twins did not hold Bianca responsible, Beth seemed to be colder and distant. As though she believed Bianca was somehow responsible for the tragedy.“The funeral will be arranged just as soon as the body is released, Pet, “said St Just soothingly, stroking Bianca’s long hair, smoothing out the tangled knots.She grunted. A soft sound of acquiescence.Roxanne turned up and held Cian in her arms, cooing and generally making the little fellow feel less lost. But Bianca sat, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.Finally, Jamie could take it no longer. Her hands on her

Serena had chosen to disguise herself.No need to get whoever was behind Heather’s death into a tizzy, she thought as she changedThe dirty blonde wig transformed her totally, the short tendrils alien to her as she turned her head to check. The young woman had also taken care to work on her face, paying attention to her thin, pale brows. Skilfully using a pencil, she turned them darker, thicker and was amazed to see how these superficial changes had altered her face.Next, Serena set to work upon her eyes. When she was done, she sat back, thinking ruefully that they were no longer the startling green which Louis always commented upon.Instead, she had chosen a set of blue contact lenses that made her appear totally different. Studying her freckles, which were dusted over her nose and cheeks, she set ot to work on that. Using medium-coverage foundation, Serena effectively hid her trademark freckles and then chose a mauve lipstick and greyish eyeshadow to go with her new blonde look.Op

It was O’Grady who received the frantic message from Claude late that evening. “Our Mumma,” sobbed the distressed Claude, who was soft at heart and not really Mafia material, as Bianca thought privately. O’Grady, who had been cradling Cian, set the little fellow down gently beside Bainca who sat in her pyjamas and getting ready to sleep. St Just strode in from the washroom on hearing his brother’s raised tones. He cocked an eyebrow and looked at Bainca, who lifted her hands, palms upwards, to show she had no idea what was going on. When O’Grady finally replaced the handset on the side table, his face was grim. “Saint, Claude just called,” he said. His brother nodded, hands on his hips, waiting, watching the Irishman. Bianca rose to her feet gracefully, Cain over one shoulder, for the little fellow had fallen asleep. She padded to O’Grady and placed her hand on his muscled arm. Ever since the murder of Heather, for Captain Ethan had grudgingly conceded the fact, since that dreadful nigh

Bianca had been unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, she had finally given up the ghost of trying and padded to her son’s room, next door. Baby Cian lay on his stomach, his small, rounded rump in the air.Bainca sighed and stood by the little cot, her eyes misting over.Like a beached whale, she thought fondly and reached out to stroke his plump cheek. His lips parted, lost in some pleasant dream, Cian slept on, snoring slightly. Blissfully.Bianca crossed to the window to stare out unseeingly at the snow which was still falling lightly, but constantly.Leaning against ta window, she wondered what her Masters were doing.And most importantly, what had happened to poor Proserpina Delano?The other thought that was bothering her was this; what about the young boys, the twins, Alex and Gabe?Bianca had met them occasionally, strong-minded little fellows with the trademark blonde hair and the cool grey-blue eyes of the Mafia Don, Lucien Delnao. Apparently, when returning from a meeting w

Little Gabriel lay small and still against the crisp white sheets, his skin pale as the snow that had almost claimed him. The faint hum of machines filled the hospital room.It was a soft, rhythmic beeping that was both comforting and terrifying in its steadiness.Liam O’ Grady had been the one to find him. Gabe had been found hours after he’d gone missing, half-buried in the drifts by a search team, his clothes frozen stiff, his lips blue, and his tiny hands curled into fists of ice. Now, under the harsh fluorescent lights, the warmth of the room seemed too bright, too artificial, as if the world was still unsure whether it would keep him.A nurse moved quietly around the bed, checking the monitors, adjusting the IV line that dripped slowly into his arm. His blonde hair, damp and tangled, stuck to his forehead, and when he breathed, it came shallow and ragged, misting faintly against the oxygen mask.Outside the window, snow still fell, thick and silent, coating the hospital courtya