Bianca
I was picking up my purse with the mobile which O’Grady had given me when he stormed into the little enclosure. I whirled around, fists clenched, ready to do battle.
Just let him say something about his little fiancee, I thought, shooting daggers at him with my eyes and I stopped.
Liam O’Grady ran a hand through his head. His black hair was a mess but a rakish mess and with his five o’clock stubble, the white shirt open to reveal a few wiry chest hairs, his muscular figure clad in those expensive trousers and jacket, he looked like a dream man. Something fashion magazines would die to capture on their lenses for immortality.
He noted my stance and grinned, a wide appreciative smile that made my heart beat faster. The man had no business to look so darn handsome, so electrifying…
*
He drawled, his eyes twinkling as he took in my posture,
“Whoa there, tiger! Relax!”
I swallowed and forced myself to relax.
He took a step to me and went on, his voice softer,
“That bi*ch didn’t hurt you, did she?”
I flicked a glance at him, puzzled. Shouldn’t he be warning me off his beloved Paige?
O’Grady must have read the look in my eyes for he said, with a self-depreciating shrug,
“I broke up with her.”
I took a deep breath. That explained her belligerence.
Folding my arms across my chest, ignoring O’Grady’s quick look at my full breasts, I snapped,
“So how many more of them should I be prepared to take on?”
O’Grady frowned, puzzled.
“What’s that?”
I rolled my eyes. Was the man pretending to be dense?
I just wanted to know if you have any more girlfriends or fiancees or exes lurking in the background who I should be looking out for,” I said.
His look of incredulity was replaced by one of amusement and he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
I flushed to the roots of my hair.
‘You’re something different, hey lass?’ he asked as he looked at me, while he sat, his arms draped across the backs of the comfortable sofas, his green eyes on me, never leaving my face.
I suddenly felt very tired. I had not had a good day; ok, it had been ages since I had had a Good day!
I sat down on the edge of the sofa, my knees pressed together.
Head bowed, I bit my lip. Then I looked up, surprising a strange look on his face.
“Can I go home?” I blurted.
He watched me, his hooded eyes taking in the droop of my shoulders, my weary expression.
He rose and came to me so suddenly that I shrank back.
“You got a cut here, lass,” he growled and lowered his head, licking the corner of my mouth although I had no memory of having been hurt there.
Moving back, I looked into his eyes, all-seeing, observant, cutting through all my pretences.
“Ah, Bianca,” he sighed and brought his mouth down on mine. He was half bending over me and gently, drew me up, till I was sanding, leaning up into him, almost on my toes for he was a tall man, big and broad, his formidable body clothed in a pristine shirt which was straining as he held me to him. My head fell back as his mouth moved to my throat and I surrendered to his touch.
*
A sound a little away from the enclosure made him start and he had put me behind me in a flash.
A man drew the curtains apart and I heard the voice, a low, unpleasant sound.
“Ah, O’Grady. Heard you had some fresh little ‘un you were hiding in here?”
I shivered, half hidden by the bulk of the man who stood behind me, his body radiating heat and anger.
” Well, well, well, if it isn’t old Joe Cahill as I live and die, as uncouth as ever, are yer?” drawled O’Grady as he responded, mockery in every syllable and I knew that the speaker, Joe Cahill must have felt offended.
“Just wanted to take a dekko at the goods, old son,” he replied but O’Grady was having none of it.
“Get out, you old motherf*ckin’ insect or…”
*
The man chuckled.
“Hawhaw! Hold yer horses, lad. Heard she gave Paige Hardy and her friends a makeover, this gal of yours?”
I clutched my torn clothes to my body but a warning growl from O’Grady made me stand still.
“She’s mine. So get your ugly snout out of here before my boys change the shape of it, Joe Cahill,” said my Master in an even voice.
I wanted to run but I stayed still.
The man named Joe Cahill seemed to be considering.
And then, he smoothly changed tack.
“Heard you approached the Big Boss, for some help?”
Again the sneering voice but this time, a trace of fear in it. I felt O’Grady’s shoulders relax.
“Yup. Did so.”
*
Joe Cahill seemed to pause and think. Then he spoke again and this time, the oiliness in his tone was replaced by open venom.
“Listen up, boy. Your Daddy, ol’ O’Grady. he knew he could not cross me. So I let him live and play in the fringes. But…”
Liam O’Grady had stiffened at the mention of his father and I tentatively reached out to hold his arm, my small cold hands touching the texture of his jacket lightly, stroking.
“BUT?” said O’Grady in a low voice, and his voice was steel, “What are you implying Joe Cahill ?”
The man sniffed and growled, his voice throbbing with anger and menace as he went on.
“We Irish always stick together. I’m the top dog here, son. I head the Irish mob. Me boys, me lads, they are happy wi’ me.”
He made a rasping sound that was more like a snort.
“And then ye swagger in with yer new-fangled ideas and all; some of the old boys, hey, they don’t like it.”
He swore and I flinched at the crudity of the expression he used.
“Dragging in the likes of an outsider like Lucien Delano, a bast*d, who don’t know who his Pa was? And his Mob is not going to help ya.”
The man who stood, blocking me from the view of the old mobster who was threatening him, clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. Then, O’Grady shifted as he said softly, opening mocking the other man,
“Your lad, Patrick is a loser. Couldn’t tell his ba*ls from his c*ck. He going to take over yer fancy Irish mob?”
Sarcasm dripped from O’Grady’s words, scorn and contempt and although I could not see the other man, I felt the force of his rage.
*
The other man let out a furious breath.
“Watch your words, O’Grady.”
And with that, he stormed off. I sagged against O’Grady, my arms going around his waist as I leaned into him from the back. He stayed still for a while and then, barked, spinning me to his chest and gripping my arm in a vice-like grip,
“C’mon Pet, we’re leaving.”