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 fiancée, 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. Some thing fashion magazines would die to...