Liam O’Grady was pounding his opponent relentlessly during one of his many practice sessions at the gym.
All his frustration and desperation had watered down to this; he spent most of his time in the ring, preparing for the Big Fight which was to happen in the newly built Club at Hunter’s Folly.
He had given up women.
Full stop.
Just like that, he did not feel the need to take a woman to bed. At first, during the first few weeks after Bianca had left them, he had tried. Brought women home, tried to visit the places where high class escorts indulged every whim and fancy of the gentlemen who turned up. But even at the fanciest joint of all, the one in Thomastown, which belonged to Alexander Van Dyke, not all the high-class women could make him feel anything. True, he had sex with a couple but it was like, he thought dolefully, as mundane and unexciting as brushing his teeth or wearing his socks.
Mechanical. No pleasure was involved at all.
The big blonde Van Dyke had eyed him wryly when he shook his head and turned down an offer to return to the luxurious, discreet brothel the man ran.
They had bonded quite well after the rescue of Bianca’s sister had happened. Along with his brother, O’Grady had Van Dyke quite often.
“You alright?’ Van Dyke had queried crisply, eyes narrowed and studying him curiously.
O’Grady ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. These days, he kept his hair short, as he was in the ring for more hours than God had created.
“Nah…” he said, evasively, for the man did not look like a fool.
“There was a woman…” sighed O’Grady before he could stop himself.
“You’re in this state over a woman?” Van Dyke shot back, incredulity lighting his pale eyes. His mockery stung but the Mafia Don shrugged and looked away into the distance pensively for a moment.
And then he went on,
“Been there once, man. I thought she loved me. She left me damaged. ”
The man rose, his big frame towering over O’Grady as he went on, cynically.
‘These days I f*ck ’em and leave ’em.”
He walked over and poured a drink for himself and one for O’Grady but the Irishman shook his head.
“Gotta get back to practice, Van Dyke.”
He rose and looked at the inscrutable features of the big man standing at the bar.
Van Dyke was a mystery. He ran his ship with an iron hand, killing anyone who stood in his way. He deferred to Delano, of course, who didn’t?
Delano was the undisputed King.
But…O’Grady frowned as he turned to leave, after bidding goodbye.
It was rumoured that Van Dyke was keeping the bast*rd daughter of the late Don Piccolo in his house, a prisoner, using her to satisfy his dark desires. She was rumoured to be very young and drop-dead gorgeous, like her exotic mother, who had been a wh*re.
Of course, no one who valued their lives asked Van Dyke outright.
As O’Grady moved to the door, it opened and Snake, the oily Underboss who worked for Van Dyke walked in. O’Grady had taken a dislike to the man, instinctively. His small eyes darted around the room, suspiciously although he pinned a smile on his face when he saw the Irishman who strode out quickly.
*
In another part of the town, St Just was grappling with his emotions. His cool, calm demeanour hid the turmoil in his mind effectively. He had visited the kink club on many occasions but it only left a bad taste in his mouth.
Today was his turn to review the accounting but his mind was not in it. He sat, staring into space for a long while, before contemplating the figures before him. A grim smile appeared on his handsome face; Bianca Cruz would have gone through the accounts in a matter of minutes. The Pet had been swift a calculation, single-minded and focused. With a snarl, he flung his tablet on the desk and strode to the windows, gazing out blankly.
Bianca Cruz had disrupted their lives, both his and O’Grady’s. The man was like a maniac, fighting every waking hour now, his body toned and fit, beefed up as Claude Delano had advised him to become. And when he was back in his apartment, he would sit, holding a bottle in his hand, drinking straight out of it.
While he, St Just, was unable to feel any excitement towards any woman, however submissive. Bianca Cruz had walked out of their lives, taking the light out of it.
The words from a book Bianca had read out to him once. a book titled Great Expectations, he thought wryly, came to him. Her brown eyes had been soft with sadness, as she read aloud:
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness…”
That was how they were now, he thought, leaning his forehead against the cool glass; the walking dead, drained of the will to live.
*
Bianca Cruz was on the campus.
Classes were fun, at least, but she was still overwhelmed by the thought of how she had actually MADE it here, to this prestigious old university in Hollowford. She was sharing a room with another girl but was not happy about it. Her roommate, Emerson Potter was flighty and had only joined because her Dad had warned her to get through college or else…
The girl would bring her boyfriend over and after she had been locked out of the room on more than one occasion because Emerson was entertaining her beau, Bianca was done wither.
Finally, she had confided in Serena Kingston, driven by desperation.
The young woman had offered to have Bianca stay at her place but Bianca had insisted on paying her. After all, she thought bitterly, her lips twisting, she had the money the Masters had deposited in her account, a hefty amount that she had squirrelled away.
Now she was in the small bedroom, chewing on a pencil, working on her assignments when Serena Kingston knocked lightly on the door.
Bianca always kept her door shut. If Serena wanted to have guests, Bianca was not going to cramp her style.
Louis Delano came frequently. He would always be gone by the time Bianca emerged from her room in the morning.
She avoided him studiously.
In her heart, she knew that Louis held her responsible for any pain or hurt her Masters were going through.
Serena had been firm.
Bianca, she said one day as they sat on the couch, watching a Netflix series, bowls of popcorn before them.
“You don’t need to cut yourself up over what St Just and O’Grady are feeling. ”
She sat up straight, her long red hair framing her sharp features while she carried on,
‘You need to decide what YOU want, and then take it from there.” She smiled and Bianca, who had been staring at her, relaxed.
She took the advice and that was what she was doing now…
Responding to the knock on her door, she found Serena standing outside, dressed to go out for the night.
Louis Delano, the blonde, handsome man, who had the trademark good looks of the Delanos, scowled at her from behind Serena.
As Bianca hugged Serena goodbye, Louis said, his voice biting,
“You DO know that O’Grady has an important fight coming up next month, don’t you?” And before Serena could stall him, he went on, sarcastically,
“Remember then? O’Grady and St Just? The men you chewed up and spat out, huh?”
And even as Serena rounded on him, eyes blazing, he went on, ignoring her hand on his upper arm,
” Lifeless and drifting around aimlessly. You Emasculated them, Bianca Cruz.”
Breathing hard, his eyes narrowed in rage, he snarled,
“That’s what they are doing today. Glad to see how happy you are, settled and with a bright future before you.”
And he stormed to the door, ignoring his fiance’s furious look and the stricken expression on Bianca’s face as she sank down to the floor.