of their loved one has given a second chance to the people who have received their organs,” she explained. “I’m just thinking I should probably think of it like that too. Your passing may not give organs to others, but it will certainly give Juan a second chance at love and life . . . 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 apparently has scads of money. And she’ll have a title with him too. She’ll be a lady. Lady Angelina Villaverde,” she informed him, sounding impressed, 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 Juan in 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 suggest he 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 was well 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. Checking out 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 talking by the stairwell door, but paused and turned to her at once. Lucian had decided she should continue to have a guard until Juan 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 convince her 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 and scramble after H.D. when he bounded past her into the hall to run barking toward the two Enforcers.
“No, no, no,” she said sternly, scooping him up just before he sank his teeth into Tybo’s boot. “Bad doggy.”
H.D. stopped barking and resorted to growling under his breath at the amused Enforcers as she cuddled him to her chest. With the beast no longer a threat, she offered an apologetic smile to the two men and asked, “Did G.G. and his parents stay at his place last night?”
When Tybo raised his eyebrows at the question, she grimaced and confessed, “I fell asleep on the couch waiting for them and just woke up.”
“Ah.” Tybo nodded. “Yes. He stayed with his parents.”
She frowned unhappily at that news. “I wish he had woken me up when he got back. I baked a cake and . . .” She shook her head. “I guess we can have it today when they wake up. Or maybe I should make them breakfast,” she muttered, turning to head back toward her door. Pausing there she turned back to ask,