“And of course, she’ll be crying because she loves you so and she’s lost you, and he’ll take her in his arms to offer comfort,and . . . Well, you know how new life mates are,” she repeated.
He did know, and the Juan of the shit-eating grin in his mind was now ravishing Ildaria up against the still open door.
“Bloody hell,” G.G. barked furiously, but his mother wasn’t done.
“It’ll be sex, pass out, sex, pass out, and so on. But we’ll be sure to stop by to collect her on the way to the funeral toensure she isn’t passed out and missing it.”
That, he realized with dismay, was a very real possibility. Juan could be at Ildaria’s side and screwing her the day afterhe died if he touched her bare skin, even her hand would be enough.
“That’s only if you die suddenly of a heart attack or something,” Robert commented, his tone thoughtful. When G.G. glancedat him in the rearview mirror, hoping for something encouraging, the man pointed out, “You might end up dying of cancer orsome other long drawn out disease.”
“Oh, my yes,” his mother said with realization and started nodding like a bobblehead. “In that case, Juan would probably behere in Canada, waiting for you to pass.”
“Christ,” G.G. breathed with dismay.
“I can see it now,” Mary went on in a dramatic voice. “You pale and wasted in your hospital bed, Angelina at your side . . . Juan at hers.”
“I will not have that bastard at my deathbed,” G.G. snapped. “The vulture can just wait until I die before showing up.”
Undeterred, his mother continued, “You’ll take your last, gasping breath and then pass peacefully away.” She actually madea choking sound, rolled her eyes up in her head, and then let her chin drop to her chest, imitating his death. Him. He washer one and only dear son, and she was making a mockery of his death.
Eyes popping open and head rising again, she continued, “Angelina will start to weep inconsolably, and Juan will take herin his arms to offer comfort and . . . well, you know new life mates,” she repeated pragmatically.
Yeah, he knew new life mates, G.G. thought grimly, actually visualizing the scene himself. God in heaven, they’d be screwingon top of his corpse before he was even cold in his deathbed in that scenario.
Mary heaved a sigh and said now, “I suppose I’ll just have to think of it like a donor situation.”
G.G. blinked away the nightmare of Juan and Ildaria doing it on his emaciated old-man body and asked uncertainly, “A donorsituation?”
“Well, they do say the families of organ donors find comfort in the knowledge that the loss of their loved one has given asecond chance to the people who have received their organs,” she explained. “I’m just thinking I should probably think ofit like that too. Your passing may not give organs to others, but it will certainly give Juan a second chance at love andlife . . . and Ildaria.”
“God in heaven,” G.G. muttered.
“It’s nice we won’t have to worry about Angelina though,” Mary added. “Neither emotionally nor financially. Juan apparentlyhas scads of money. And she’ll have a title with him too. She’ll be a lady. Lady Angelina Villaverde,” she informed him, soundingimpressed, and then explained, “I gather Juan is a lord by birth.”
“Is he?” he asked, grinding his teeth now. Of course his mother was impressed with titles. She was English.
“Oh, yes,” she said, sounding enthusiastic. “On the flight here, Scotty told us Juan Villaverde was born in Spain to a lord.He only moved to the Dominican Republic later. He was a lord there, and still is I suppose. Lord Juan Villaverde.”
“Don,” Robert said.
“What is that, love?” G.G.’s mother asked, craning her head to peer at her husband again.
“The Spanish title for a lord is Don,” he explained. “He was Don Juan Villaverde.”
There was a moment of stunned silence and then his mother squealed with glee. “Oh my God, Angelina has a real-life Don Juanin her future!”
“The hell she does,” G.G. said in a low grating voice.
“She doesn’t?” her mother asked with confusion.
“No. Because you’re going to turn me.”
Ildaria rolled over sleepily and fell out of bed, landing on the hard floor with an “oomph.”
Not bed, she realized as she opened her eyes. The couch. She’d fallen asleep on it last night waiting for G.G. and his parents to return.
A yip drew her attention upward to see H.D. standing on the couch, staring down at her with an expression that seemed to suggesthe wasn’t impressed with her inability to stay on the couch.
Sighing, she rolled over and sat up to give the dog a soothing pet. “Sorry, buddy. Did I wake you?”
H.D. nuzzled her hand, apparently forgiving all.
Smiling faintly, Ildaria yawned and then glanced toward the clock on the wall, her eyes widening when she saw that it waswell past two o’clock in the afternoon.
“What the hell?” she muttered, getting quickly to her feet, but then she stood there, briefly frozen by uncertainty. Checkingout of a hotel and collecting their luggage couldn’t take this long. Maybe G.G. and his parents had returned, found her sleeping,and simply gone to his place rather than wake her. Or had they not returned yet? What if they’d been in an accident?
Cursing, she strode to the door of her apartment, and unlocked and pulled it open. Tybo and Valerian were standing talkingby the stairwell door, but paused and turned to her at once. Lucian had decided she should continue to have a guard untilJuan flew back to South America. It was just in case the man was tempted to grab and drag her back with him to try to convinceher to change her mind and be his life mate.
Ildaria had no idea when Juan was expected to fly back home, but until he did, she had babysitters. Which was actually kind of handy right now, she thought, and opened her mouth to ask them if G.G. and his parents had returned, only to curse instead
