Bianca
I was trembling, panting, and unsure of myself when St Just spoke, which put me out of my misery.
‘Leave her be for tonight, Liam,” he growled, holding me to his chest and I saw Laim O’Grady’s hot eyes narrow in disbelief.
“The fu*k do you mean, Sian?’ he snarled at his brother.
But St Just went on, cooly,
‘It’s her first time, bro. We need to go gentle on her.”
I looked at Laim O’Grady’s face wordlessly, trembling.
He seemed like he wanted to erupt. His thick fists, which were like slabs of meat, clenched as he breathed hard, his eyes on my face, my body and then they shifted to St Just.
‘We made a deal…” he growled.
‘But she’s a virgin, Laim,” snapped St Just, “She’s not like the other girls we’ve kept. Dana and Anita; they knew the score. They were all well-used pets.”
I bowed my head, mortified. For a few seconds, neither man spoke. But both of them were locked in a battle of wills, breathing heavily.
Then Liam O’Grady flung himself away, with a savage oath.
‘Have it your way, then, Saint. Though when you became such a prude, I do not know.’
O’Grady’s eyes seemed to drill into me, blue chips of fury as he added,
“Sweet Jaysus! Fine then, I’ll get myself a nice piece of pus*y in the city for tonight, maybe not as fresh, but one that is willing.”
And then he almost sneered,’ Not a f*cking pristine VIRGIN. Maybe, but any pus*y will do.”
I felt as though I had been slapped.
“Put on your clothes, girl.” He added, his eyes moving over my body disdainfully,
” You look like a wh*re on sale.”
I blinked hard to hide my tears of shame as I bent to scoop up the lovely dress. St Just helped me to pull it over my shoulders as O’Grady stormed out, and even as he finished helping me, I heard the roar of an engine. From the windows, I caught sight of a pair of taillights disappearing down the drive, fast.
*
St Just looked down at the bowed head of their pet. She seemed so miserable. He did not know why he had made the decision to stop Liam. But he had a gut feeling that the girl was terrified. Some part of him wanted her first time to be memorable; not cheap and unforgettable.
He stepped back as she finished adjusting her dress.
“Let’s have dinner, Pet,” he said and she nodded mutely.
Then she followed him out to the room. He led her to the vast dining room.
*
Bianca
Trotting behind St Just’s long strides, I entered a room that took my breath away. It was entirely designed in shades of brown; the Caffe latte style, as I was to discover later.
Shades of walnut and bronze blended with each other in such an aesthetic way that I looked about me, wide-eyed. The modern pieces of furniture were also so perfectly aligned with mid-century woodwork, I wanted to stand and gape. The elegant, marble and wood dining table, oval in shape, could easily seat 12 people, I thought, my heart hammering.
But St Just was already at the table, drawing out a chair for me and I hurried across. As I sat, my shoulder brushed against his chest and I felt a frisson of …something undefinable. I looked up and saw the way his firm mouth tightened.
Quickly, I lowered my head to the plate that appeared before me.
“Alfred is our live-in butler,” said St Just and I looked up into the bland features of the old man who dipped his head without meeting my eyes. I sighed softly and bit my lip.
But St Just was still talking.
“His wife, Martha, runs the kitchen. We also have a cleaning crew that comes in every Friday.”
I looked up at him, frowning slightly. Why was he telling me all this?’
Alfred appeared with two bowls of soup.
I sniffed appreciatively and St Just laughed out loud, making me blush. His laugh was rich and amused as he said, gently,
“We heard that you like seafood, right?”
I stared at him as I nodded.
It was true, I had a weakness for seafood; a trait I had inherited from my mother, as my Dad used to say fondly.
“This is Bisque,” he went on, and I looked at the smooth, creamy, highly seasoned soup.
St Just watched me, his tawny eyes dancing with merriment as he said, encouragingly,
“Go on, Bianca, try it.”
And as he took a sip, he added, dabbing at his lips,” Martha is an excellent cook.”
I did not need a second nudge. As the first sip made the taste explode in my mouth, I shut my eyes reverentially. I had done all the cooking at home but this!!! This was magic! This was heavenly!
My eyes flew open as I heard St Just chuckle.
“You should see the look on your face, Pet,’ he drawled and I blushed.
But there was only a gentle teasing note in his voice as he looked at me.
Alfred, who was waiting at the door, smiled, a brief smile before he disappeared.
The soup bowls were dispensed with and a bevy of dishes flowed out from the kitchen.
First came the Lyons-style chicken with vinegar sauce. Then came crispy monkfish with capers and red snapper with fennel and citrus salad. By the time the lamb stew with root vegetables and the ham steaks with Madeira sauce appeared, I was already done. Shaking my head apologetically at Alfred, I said shyly,
‘It’s delicious. I’ve never eaten anything so delicious in my life…please I’d like to thank your wife.”
Alfred looked taken aback but St Just, who was still eating, gave me a quizzical look as he told Alfred,
“Call Martha.”
A stout woman with frizzy grey hair appeared at the door.
“Thank you so much, I said, rising to my feet and heading to her. She seemed amazed when I took her hands and said.
“It was delicious!”
The woman beamed and looked at her husband.
St Just spoke from the table drily,
“Come back here, Bianca. She’s prepared dessert and if you leave without tasting it, I imagine Martha is going to be very upset.”
*
I returned half-heartedly for I had truly never eaten as much in all my life. Sinking down, I looked around me discreetly.
Alfred re-appeared. This time, it was with dessert. First a plate of crispy, chewy, soft and light-as-air macarons, pink in colour. Then there were tender crepes and finally, a plate of something I had never seen in my life.
St Just, who had been watching my animated expressions, gave a laugh as he said,
“Profiteroles.”
And when I continued to look bemused, he added,” That’s what they are called.”
Alfred, who had appeared, added in his deep voice,
“Miss, they’re basically just little ice cream-filled, chocolate-covered puffs of goodness.”
I laughed excitedly and immediately had one… which became two. I dimpled as I laid down my fork and said, with a contented sigh,
“It was out of this world!”
St Just, his expression shadowed because he had moved back from the light, said,
“Come Bianca, to the living room.”
I rose, thanking Alfred and Martha again before following him out.
*
When we re-entered the grand living room, St Just indicated that I should sit on the couch.
I sank down, a nervous flutter in my belly.
What was he about to say? I wondered in some trepidation.
St Just moved to the bar and poured himself a drink.
Thankfully, he did not offer me one this time. I shifted uneasily as I watched his strong figure, the golden hair shining dully in the lights.
Then he came and lowered himself on the seat opposite me and said.
“Let’s discuss what you will be doing.”
*