Bianca walked into the Club with St Just, holding his arm as she kept up with him.
“It is an important fight, pet,” St Just had said earlier, as he expertly piloted the car and they stepped out. The dark shroud of night had fallen and she gave a shiver as they walked to the entrance of the large club named, appropriately, Shangri-La.
“Important because it has always been O’Grady’s dream to have a Fight Club of his own.”
She had looked at St Just in horror and he chuckled at her expression.
‘That’s the way Liam is, sugar,” he said gently “He’s rough, used to using his fists to get his way and all that; and he can be crude sometimes. But he’s got a good heart.”
Her back was to him as he said the words, for she was being helped out of her wrap by an attendant.
But she sighed imperceptibly.
Yes, O’Grady was a good man, alright.
Bianca smoothed the gown down. O’Grady had taken care while choosing it. The silky outfit matched her eyes, the soft green colour which had subtle shades of hazel in the silk, worked in such a way that it fell in swatches around her body. An A-line dress with a demure neckline, it made her look young and yet, seductive. Nothing sensational, it covered her from neck to toe. But she still looked sensuous, she thought as she moved.
Heads turned to look at them, St Just and his pretty little companion, the curvaceous girl with the wide brown eyes.
Meanwhile, Liam O’Grady was in the Green room. He had faced many men in many fights before this but this night was important. Lucien Delano was going to be here this evening. He had just returned from Japan, where he had gone, accompanying his wife, a nugget of information from Claude.
Claude Delano was also quite anxious. He was going to put in a lot of money in this venture if his formidable father gave the go-ahead. Now he walked into the room where O’Grady was getting ready and smiled, a tight smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
‘Bro, the Swede is here.” he said.
O’Grady swore. He was up against a noted opponent indeed, for Henril ‘the Swede’ Olsson, was a seasoned fighter. O’Grady had come up against him before and it had never been an easy fight. The man knew how to punch and he never tired, thought the Irishman grimly.
The doors opened and Bianca and St Just walked in.
His heart suddenly began to thump loudly and O’Grady swore. The last thing he wanted was to see his Pet. She looked gorgeous and her face, anxious and pinched, lit up as she came to his outstretched arms, lifting her face for her kiss.
“Take care,” she murmured against his mouth and he felt a wave of some foreign emotion swirl in him. St Just stepped up too and wrapped his arms around his brother.
As they moved away, leaving after being introduced to Claude Delano, the young Bratva boss looked after them, perplexed.
“Is she your girl? Or his?” asked Claude, never one known for tact. His brother Louis, who had strolled in, looking dapper in a three-piece suit, shook his head as he heard the last words.
“Claude, Pappa is here.”
Just the words seemed to have a sobering effect on Claude Delano. He stood to attention.
Gripping O’Grady’s big hand, he said, “See you out there. Kill him, O’Grady.”
And with that comforting order, he scuttled out, along with his brother.
*
Bianca sat in the front row, staring at the ring, her breath hitching. She was barely aware of the people, many of who approached St Just and spoke.
Her eyes were riveted on the large Ring and she felt her panic increasing.
Would O’Grady be hurt? She could not bear to watch him being pummelled!
They were in the front rows, the ones reserved for VIPS and the family of the boxers who were fighting. O’Grady’s opponent was a huge Swede with a large golden handlebar moustache and cold grey-blue eyes. She had seen fancy pictures that flashed on the screen above their heads and she swallowed. The Swede looked frightening.
His partner, a tall woman with golden eyes, a wide smile and a loud voice, was sitting on the other side of the Ring, talking loudly, gesticulating as she spoke.
Suddenly, a soft, throaty voice spoke at her left side and she turned, surprised. She had not been aware that someone had come to sit beside her.
She met a pair of brown eyes, similar to hrs, but larger, with astonishingly long lashes, natural ones too. The woman smiled and Bianca smiled back; she was gorgeous, this woman who sat beside her, pale-skinned, with a wide, smiling mouth and dimples. She reached out and stroked Bianca’s hand.
‘I know how you must be feeling, child,” she murmured,” When Lucien went into the Ring, I died a thousand times,” she sat back slightly and Bianca gulped.
Lucien, she had said. Was she talking of Lucien Delano?
O’Grady and St Just had seemed in awe of the man when they spoke of him, in hushed, reverent voices.
A thick-set man, much older than the exotic creature sitting beside her, turned, fixing his penetrating, ice-cold stare at her and Bianca almost stood up to attention. He had that effect.
The Mafia Don was handsome, no doubt there, but with craggy features and a hardness quite at odds with the delicate, beautiful woman beside him.
“Who’s she?” snapped the man, his voice gravelly and deep, a voice used to giving commands.
“You are with Liam O’Grady, are you not?” asked the woman softly and Bianca nodded, “Yes Sir. I mean, yes Ma’am.”
The women laughed, a tinkling sound which made people stop and look around, smiles on their faces too. As though they were enchanted by the chestnut-haired goddess and only longed to be within her charmed circle.
‘” You may call me Proserpina,” she dimpled and Bianca knew that she would love to get to know this kind, gentle woman
Her husband had turned away dismissively; the Bianca Cruzs of this world held no interest for him.
St Just, who had left to take a call, returned and came to a stop, smiling as he saw the beautiful woman beside Bianca. Suddenly, Bianca felt like she was part of the furniture. The woman was so extraordinarily lovely, so unconsciously attractive, alluring, everyone seemed to be looking at her, their eyes on her gestures, her smiles…
“Mrs Delano, Ma’am!” he said, and Bianca peered up at him. He was literally fawning!
She sat up straighter, her soft mouth pursed in annoyance.
The woman dimpled again.
“We’ve met before, Mr…?”
Suddenly, two men swooped down on them, accompanied by a plump woman, who looked Russian.
“Mumma, remember S Just? Finn St Jut?’ asked the broader of the two men, both spitting images of the grim-faced Don.
“She’s not senile, boy!”” growled the Don who had people hovering around him, offering drinks and finger food.
Proserpina Delano turned to her husband and Bianca saw the softly reproachful look on her face as she sighed.
But unfortunately, Claude Delano was not done. His eyes fell on Binaca and he beamed,
“And this is their Pet, ” he went on, cheerfully.
There was a silence, pregnant and awful as people in the vicinity turned to stare.
Big Claude stopped as he realised what he had said. His wife, for that was who she was, stepped forward and pinched his arm, hard.
His brother, the equally handsome young man behind him, rolled his eyes as the Don swung his cold, sardonic gaze at Bianca.
As for poor, mortified Bianca, she sat still, shredding the paper someone had given her earlier,.
The blood was pounding in her ears as she realised that the people were staring at her.
Stiffly, she rose to her feet.
“Please, excuse me. I need to use the washroom,” she said in a quavering voice and began to walk away on unsteady legs.
Behind her, she could hear Proserpina Delano as she rebuked her son softly.
Blinded by tears, Bianca hurried in the direction of the exit, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her.