Bianca wet her lips as she, along with her Master's, watched the graceful, curvaceous figure of Proserpina Delano leave the restaurant, her husband, the Mafia Don, walking closely behind her. The Don’s Woman laughed, tossing her head and acknowledging the people on the way, the servants, the guests, while her husband loomed behind her darkly, a large hand on her waist, guiding her to the corridor, firmly.

It was clear that he resented having to share her, even the smiles she bestowed on the people around her. And of course, the admiring looks that followed in their wake must have set him off further. Bianca saw the way the big...