Chapter 263 O'grady: Jealousy

• In the days that followed, Bianca began to try to put her life back together from the shaky mess it had fallen into. Her friends rallied round her. Serena stepped up to keep Bianca company on the first day, and Jamie appeared, a dancing-in-the-air version of Jamie. Her joy was contagious, thought Bianca as she lay on the couch in the front room, where St Just had made her stay, resolutely refusing to allow her to return to work, at his office or otherwise. Baby Cian was overjoyed to see Jamie; she had that kind of infectious spirit, thought Bianca as Jamie danced around the room with Cian in her arms, mimicking a waltz and giggling, both infant and teen loving it all. Serena watched with a small smile playing around her lips. Bianca missed Roxanne, but her friend had left a message for her. “Need to go to Madame Luna’s. urgent.’ Puzzled, Bianca had wrinkled her nose as she read and re-read the message several times. She, Bianca, had been so wrapped up in her own affairs, she had not really thought about anything else. But visiting Madame Luna Rhyme? The woman who had tried to make her a full-blown prostitute? What was wrong with Roxanne, wondered Bianca indignantly. And from all accounts, she had slipped off without Van Dyke accompanying her. Bianca knew that Roxanne was like an oyster. She only shared a little, just a fraction of her thoughts, with anyone. Bianca was the closest she had to a friend. As for her Masters, Bianca smiled languidly as St Just strolled into the room, his blonde hair dark from a shower. With the grace of a panther, he crossed over to her and, heedless of the chattering Jamie and the smirk on Serena’s face, he bent down to kiss his Pet with a desire that was evident. She looked at him, her hand still around his neck as he raised his head. “I’m leaving now, Sugar,” he drawled, touching her swollen lips, “Be good, and stay out of trouble, right?” She dimpled at him, and Serena cleared her throat. “We’ll be here for a while,” she said a wide smile on her face as St Just turned to look at her. With a general goodbye to them, St Just strode off. “What’s up with O’Grady?” asked Jamie, guileless as ever. She was treading air, her head in the clouds, as she was going out on supervised dates with the love of her life, Captain Davis, albeit accompanied by her brothers, almost thrice a week now. Bianca’s face clouded over. When O’Grady had come over one morning a few days ago, she had turned her face away coldly. All this had begun because he was such a damned, blo*dy flirt, she told herself fiercely. The overpowering fragrance of roses filled the hallway, for he was still getting roses delivered by the dozens to the apartment. St Just had eyed the deliveries and said drily, “Well, the florists are doing great business because of the Irishman, anyways.” Bianca, who was generally quick to forgive, was finding it difficult to forget the way the Irishman had been hooding the dratted Chinese woman in his arms, his tongue down her throat, she fumed. When he managed to enter her room, she had glared at him coldly that morning. “I don’t want to see you, Irish, just get the fecking hell out of my room,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. Liam O’Grady had stood there, swaying slightly, his face falling, a bouquet of large roses in his hands. There was a darkening bruise on his cheek, beneath his eye, his shirt and jacket were crumpled, and he was unshaven. Yet he still had the power to make her heart thud with love. Bianca hated him for the effortless way he made her long for him, his hands on her… Standing up firmly, she said, “O’Grady, what’s wrong? No more women to stick your tongue down their throats? No women to squeeze? huh?” O’Grady had felt a ripple of shame and then anger. But then, the rage was quickly quashed as he realised, he was to blame. “Ah, lassie, Pet,” he began, but to his astonishment, Bianca moved forward, her face ravaged with sorrow and anger. Coming towards him, she stopped before him and he hesitated. In a split second, she had balled her fist and punched him in the face. ” OWWW!!! Hey!” he roared, spinning about, his hand cupping his nose, which had begun to bleed, dropping the forgotten roses on the floor. “Just get the feckin' hell out of here, O’Grady,” she said, her voice trembling,” Or I shall leave…” St Just, who had lingered around, suspecting a scene, rushed in and took in the scene in one glance. “Irish, leave, NOW!” he roared and the Irishman, his pride hurt more than his nose, which had been broken and fixed more times than he could care to remember, stumbled out. That had been three days ago. the roses still kept coming, as Sylvie had pointed out, but there had been no sign of the Irishman. He was currently holed up in Dominick Delano’s apartment, much to the annoyance of his fiancée, Rani. But Dom, surprisingly, had put his foot down. “The man needs friends now,” he argued and Claude Delano had nodded gravely. Of course, Claude had not made an offer of a roof over his head because his Bratva princess would throw a fit and possibly set her burly Bratva men on him, as he joked. In short, the unfortunate O’Grady was in the doghouse. * Cian was thrilled to have his Mommie at home all day, all to himself. He was now a little tyrant, toddling around, crawling and generally enjoyed creating a mess wherever he went. Tearing down sheets, pulling down papers, all of it. “Takes after the Irishman,” growled St Just one evening, as he cradled the little fellow on his chest as they lay in bed, Bianca and he. The little fellow was fascinated by the long, thin gold chain that St Just wore and Bianca rested her head on his shoulder, watching the two of them. She had a strong suspicion that Cian was O’Grady’s son, the way he turned his head, the tilt of his brow when he was watching something attentively… Leaning to St Just, she said, kissing him full on his mouth, “ I want a brother or a sister for Cian, Saint, a baby with blonde hair…” They looked at each other, deeply, something more than words being shared in that moment. “Taking you on a date this evening, sugar,” rumbled St Just, making up his mind at once, as he swung his legs over the bed and rose, with Cian still in his arms. ”And then, we spend the night at the Shangri la. Bianca rose on her knees and threw her arms around her lover and best friend’s neck. “I love you, Saint,” she murmured as he grunted, while Cian tried to pull fistfuls of his mother’s hair, annoyed that his parents were not looking at him. * When Claude met O’Grady at his casino that evening, he had the air of a person who was trying hard to keep a secret, but also knew he was going to fail miserably anyway. “I’m on date duty tonight, bro,” he said when the Irishman invited him to sit down and share a drink. The Irishman studied him keenly. “What’s up, Claude?” he asked bluntly as Dom walked in, to accompany O’Grady for a bout at the gym. Dom was now putting in hours of training, taking it seriously, as Louis had commented, tongue in cheek. Needless to say, the Mafia Don , who knew everything that went on, had also been pleased. Claude shuffled his feet, almost comically, for he was a big man, all brawn, with bulging muscles. “Uh…huh…there’s a reservation at the Shangri La. Been made for tonight, Irish.” The Irishman’s brows went up. What was Claude blabbering about?’ “Your brother and …” Claude blushed, for the idea of two men sharing a woman still did not sit well in his mind. But now O’Grady was sitting up, jealousy making him glare, “And…?” he said in a dangerous, soft voice, his hand going to his nose, for Bianca’s smash had been spot on. he winced. The Pet could really knock you out with a punch like that, he thought wryly. Claude met his eyes, looking unhappy as Dom fiddled with a paper weight, suddenly engrossed in it, “With Bianca. Your…uh…Pet.” And then, he went on in a rush, “A dinner date for two, with a room for the night in the most luxurious chalet on the estate…”