As the Don had predicted, the Irishman did eventually win.
Bianca had been praying fervently when she saw the Mafia Don rise to his feet. He held out his hand imperiously to his wife who immediately stood up and the two left the large hall, curious eyes following them as they made their way out.
A couple of the Don’s men went with them and four more joined them as they left, the large double doors swinging shut behind them.
Claude had looked around in astonishment and Louis had nodded, tapping his nose.
No guesses where Pappa was leading Mumma, he thought drily.
His father was an old Goat, in every sense of the word and he had mentioned that there was a closet along the corridor which needed examining. Louis smiled as he met Tara’s eyes. She winked and dimpled. Pappa was barely able to keep his hands off Mumma, even at this age!
It also meant that he was satisfied with Liam O’Grady’s performance and as astute as ever, he knew the Swede was about to lose.
The Swede watched them, his bloodied face turned to the door. That one gesture of the Don suggested something he did not want to know.
With a roar, he rose up from his corner.
O’Grady, his right eye rapidly swelling, was listening with half an ear to his trainer. His brother and Claude were also beside the trainer and his mind was vacant.
He was tired and simply wanted to win and go home, preferably to f*ck pretty Bianca who was watching him, her face a study in strain. He winked at her and she smiled tremulously.
The bell rang and O’Grady rose to his feet, swaying slightly.
The Swede surged forth, giving it a last ditch attempt as he went for a combination, a series of sequential punches thrown randomly, aiming to catch the Irishman off guard. O’Grady sensed his frustration and he allowed the Swede a wink that enraged the Swede.
The Irishman bobbed and weaved, moving out of harm’s way every time the bigger man threw a punch.
Then, suddenly, sensing that the Swede was also tiring, O’Grady changed his tactics.
He turned aggressive. Using his superior footwork, he went for a cross and a hook, followed by an uppercut, all in quick succession and the Swede, exhausted and overcome, toppled to the ground like a large oak. The referee was immediately beside him, as the Swede lay on the canvas, groaning, blood from his broken nose flowing.
The referee had begun to count till ten, all the while assessing the Swede who seemed disoriented and dazed. Turning, he signalled to the timekeeper that the bout was over and a shout went up from the crowd as he raised O’Grady’s muscular arm and declared him the winner. Claude Delano was roaring in joy as was his brother Louis, grinning in his dapper fashion. The Don and his Woman had reappeared and few guests noted the heightened colour in the gorgeous woman’s face as she stumbled , only to have the Boss wrap a strong arm around her waist and help her forward.
Bianca was weeping, her hands clasped as she stood and looked at O’Grady.
He had won, damn him, she thought as he turned to look at her, his face cut and bruised but as swashbucklingly handsome as ever.
The Irishman blew her a kiss before he was led out from the ring and Bianca stood, watching with her heart hammering in her chest.
The After Party was going on, in full swing as Bianca looked around, sipping on the bubbly that had been handed o her. She felt a little dizzy, perhaps because of the drink, she thought, smiling benignly at St Just as he stood, his arm around her waist, supporting her. O’Grady was surrounded by a knot of men; the Delano brothers, she thought, smiling vacantly again as she looked at Liam O’Grady. God, she was so proud of her lover and she leaned into St Just as she asked innocently,
“You never wanted to become a fighter, right Finn?”
he looked down at her. Her eyes were slightly glazed and he knew that if she had any more to drink, she would be totally sozzled.
Gently, he prised the champagne flute from her hands and said,” Let’s take a walk, sugar.”
Bianca giggled and he sighed. He nodded at his brother who had turned to watch them, his eyes narrowed.
Bianca ws happily chattering away about the gardens of Shangri La and he smiled as he led her out.
They met Louis Delano, whose keen eyes took in Bianca’s state in one quick glance.
He nodded to the door on the left and said softly,
‘There’s a private garden there, on the left,” and then, his handsome face splitting into a sardonic grin, he said,
“Your little lady friend might benefit from some fresh air.”
Bianca was humming softly now and St Just saw the way Louis Delano looked at her, amused and intrigued. He had heard of Louis’ reputation, a womanizer who was following in the footsteps of his illustrious father.
St Just smiled stiffly and hauling Bianca to his side, he said,
“Come on, sugar. Let’s go get ourselves some fresh air.”
They stepped to the side and made their way out, Bianca clinging to St Just’s arm.
When they reached the little door, he pushed it open tentatively and Bianca gasped in surprise. A tiny garden, with rose vines spilling blooms of every hue, and a heavenly scent with a marble altar at the center confronted them.
She waltzed around laughing, her head tipped back and then came to him. Leaning into him, her face upturned, she breathed,
“Make love to me, Finn, make love to me, here in this magical garden.”