“Funny you should ask,” Rodrigo said with a smile. “I got a call three days ago from my agent. Rob Blackwater has a torn rotator cuff. He’s out.”
Tony and Francesca both gasped. “What?”
Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Blackwater? The guy I’m supposed to be fighting in Miami is out?”
Francesca pulled her ponytail out and snapped the band back around her wrist. “Are you saying that you’re in? You’re taking his place?”
“It looks that way. My agent and I were just discussing it. I think he put a call in to your agent, Tony. Contracts need to be ironed out, but yes, looks like it’ll be me against you,” Rodrigo said.
“And you’re training here?” Tony asked.
“Since I was in town visiting my folks, I thought I’d come talk to Fred about using his place, but I’m not sure yet. What are you doing here, Frankie? Last I heard you took over Pai’s place.”
“So you two know each other?” Tony snarled, not bothering to tone it down.
With a big toothy smile, Rodrigo looked over at Francesca. “Oh, yeah. We know each other.”
Francesca quickly added, “We grew up together. He trained with my dad starting when he was five years old.”
“We all called her old man Pai, since he was like a father to all of us.”
“Great,” Tony mumbled under his breath.
“God, Frankie. Look at you.” Rodrigo reached for her hands. “You look so different. Wow.” He let go of her hands but kept the grin on his face. “You never said why you were here.”
Francesca was speechless, and Tony found it disconcerting. She had already done the ponytail thing, and now she was doing the eye-avoidance thing. She was nervous, and Tony didn’t like it at all.
“Worth the Fight got fucked up in the hurricane. We’re looking for another gym to train in. Temporarily.” She stood straighter and seemed to take stock of herself before she continued. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little surprised. You are fighting him?” she asked, pointing first at Rodrigo and then at Tony. Rodrigo nodded. “How the fuck did I not know this?”
Rodrigo’s smile widened. “Still with the dirty mouth.” The way he said it, with such familiarity, made Tony want to break his face. “Like I said, it just happened. Well, technically, it hasn’t happened yet, since Tony still has to agree to it.”
“We were hoping to use Grid Iron until the gym’s repaired,” Francesca said, “but since you’re—”
Rodrigo took a step forward and again put his hand on Francesca’s arm. Tony wanted to rip his arms out of his sockets. He would definitely agree to fight Rodrigo. He didn’t even have to wait until the actual bout—he’d gladly fight the man right now.
“No, go ahead,” Rodrigo urged. “If Fred is okay with it, please use his gym. I’ll find somewhere else.”
“Uh…yeah. Okay. It’s only for a few weeks. I’m not sure my guys’ll all fit here, but it’s something.”
“You want me to talk to Fred for you?” Rodrigo asked.
“No, I got it. Thanks,” Francesca replied.
“Same ol’ Frankie. Still won’t accept help, I see,” Rodrigo said. Tony was beginning to feel like a third wheel. Was this douchebag the imbecile who’d made her feel insecure about herself? Rodrigo looked at Tony as if expecting privacy, but clearly the Brazilian was out of his damn mind if he thought Tony would leave Francesca alone with him for one single second.
“I go by Frances now, by the way.” She stood a little straighter. “And you don’t really know me anymore. I haven’t seen or heard from you in years, not since you left.”
Rodrigo’s smile faded. “You left too.”
“You left first,” she answered almost immediately.
“I left for a tournament. I was coming back, but you left before I had—”
She cut him off. “It’s not important. It was a long time ago. What’s important is whether you two will be fighting each other and whether we even have a place to train.” Francesca took a step around Rodrigo and asked, “Where’s Fred?” She was back to business.
“Can I talk to you in private for a second?” Rodrigo asked her.
What the fuck?
Francesca seemed apprehensive but nodded silently. Rodrigo placed his hand on her elbow and guided her to a corner.
Tony was seething. He had managed to control his normally out-of-control temper for the last few weeks, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold it. He began to do the breathing exercises the anger management therapist had showed him during one of his three stints in anger management classes, the one following an arrest for public intoxication and disorderly conduct. He’d been lucky—that time around, the charge of battery had been reduced to disorderly conduct thanks to some very expensive lawyering.
As he breathed in and out and tried to visualize the fucking colors of the goddamn rainbow melting his anger away, he decided to give Rodrigo and Francesca enough time for him to do one lap around the gym. Grid Iron was damn small, so basically he was giving them one minute of alone time as he walked around and familiarized himself with the place.
First off, he didn’t want her alone with him. Second, he didn’t want her alone with him. Was there a third? Yes, he didn’t want her alone with him. And she didn’t seem to want to be alone with him either. He tried to distract himself by checking the place out. Comparing Grid Iron to WtF made him realize just what a great job Francesca and Slade had done in fixing up the gym. All the equipment at WtF was new, and the gym didn’t smell. Not yet, at least. This one smelled like old socks—socks that had walked miles and miles and hadn’t been washed in ten years. And while he was used to that, since it was the standard gym smell, the equipment here was too old, bordering on unsafe. Still, the gym had a ring, bags, and free weights. It would do. At least temporarily.
Tony knew he could get out of his contract with WtF if he wanted to; Francesca had been right about that. He was a professional star athlete; he didn’t have to train in this kind of place. But he would never do that because he liked Tarpon Springs. He liked the other fighters at WtF. He liked Francesca. Speaking of…
He stalked over to where Rodrigo was smiling and Francesca was standing with her back straight and arms crossed, saying something to him. This was the Francesca he loved to see: fierce, strong, brave, slightly bitchy.
Tony grabbed her by the arm while she was in midsentence. “Let’s go talk to Fred.” Rodrigo looked at him as if Tony had lost his mind. Well, he had.
“Let go of me, Tony.”
Rodrigo took a step closer, as though he was ready to attack. Well, surprise, surprise—so was Tony.
“It’s fine, Rodrigo. He’s just a brute.” Francesca smacked Tony’s arm away, and he let go. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“We have shit to do, Francesca,” Tony said.
Rodrigo laughed. “Francesca? I thought only your dad called you that.”
“Yeah. And Tony,” Francesca said, glaring at the other man, “cut it out! I can take care of myself.”
“She certainly can.” Rodrigo grinned before turning around and walking out of the gym.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tony asked.
“Nothing.” She stomped toward the back office. “You need to control that temper of yours. Stop being all domineering. I don’t like it.”
“I’m not being domineering. Did we come here to talk to Fred or flaunt your tits at Rodrigo?”
Francesca stopped so abruptly that Tony crashed into her. “Fuck you, Tony,” she spat out.
“Shit. I’m so—”
“No. Don’t even say it. You’ve apologized twice already. Just because we fucked once doesn’t mean you can swoop in and act like I don’t have a brain or like I can’t take care of myself. You fuck women all the time—is this how you act with all of them? I thought I was the only inexperienced one here. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I can’t deal with it right now. Please just go away. Wait in the car or something. I need to
talk with Fred, and you’re really pissing me off.” She glared at him one more time before she stormed off.
—
Half an hour later, Francesca was walking out of the Grid Iron with a contract allowing her fighters full use of the gym for a few weeks. Tony was leaning against the hood of his car. When he saw her coming, he pushed away and took a few long steps to reach her.
“Cariño.” He cupped her face with his large hands. She knew she should be pissed at him—he’d been way out of line with Rodrigo—but when he touched her this way it made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. She felt like a brainless twit whose mind wandered at the sight of shiny things, the shiny things being Tony. “I’m sorry. I know. I have to work on my temper.”
“Yeah. You do,” she huffed. He tried to take her hand but she pulled away. “Don’t call me cutesy pet names. Not in the mood.”
“Did you get us space?” He opened the car door for her, and once she was settled, he closed the door and went around to the driver’s side.
“I don’t think it’ll work for too long, but at least for the next few weeks you’ll have a place to go.”
“I agree. It is too small.” He gripped the steering wheel. “Did you sleep with Rodrigo?”
That caught her off guard. She whipped her head around to look at him. “That’s really none of your business.”
His grip was still tight, and she could see his jaw twitch. “I’m going to fight him.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know the terms of the contract yet,” she said.
“I don’t care,” he replied tersely.
“You’re not thinking with your brain, Tony. This isn’t a pissing contest to see who’s more macho or whom I’ll date.”
He stopped the car abruptly and pulled over. “Date? What? Did he ask you out?”
“That’s not the point, Tony!”
“Like hell it isn’t! Are ju going to go out with me or what, Francesca? Because seriously, I’m not this man. I don’t do this.” He waved his arms around. His accent was once again thick and his words were coming out fast. “I don’t like to feel jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever felt jealous before, actually. There. I said it.” He groaned and shoved his palms against the steering wheel.
She laughed. Probably not the best thing to do at the moment, but she found it endearing to see such a self-confident man so flustered and shocked at his own realization. She reached for his shoulder. She was going to say yes, she would go out with him, but before she could, he spoke again. “What are you doing to me? I swear, since the first moment I met you, I wanted to kiss you. Now that I’ve kissed you, I want to touch you again. Dios mío, Francesca, I want to taste you, fuck you, ravage you. It’s making me fucking crazy. And seeing you talking to that guy when I’ve been after you like a pussy for months…” He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. She moved her hand from his shoulder to his face, and he leaned into her touch. Then he took her hand and kissed her palm.
“So, where are we going on this date of yours?” she asked. “And are you going to calm down before the date so that I can actually understand the words coming out of your mouth?”
He smiled and reached over the center console for a kiss. It began soft but she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Her tongue invaded his mouth almost as soon as their lips touched. He groaned as the kiss became frenzied. One of her hands fisted his hair while the other clawed at his neck. He leaned closer to her, one hand on her breast, squeezing as her back arched into his grip. When she sucked on his lower lip, he nearly devoured her. His body was almost entirely over the center console and something was stabbing his hip. Had it not been for that, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve pulled away. But he did.
When he sat back in his seat, they were both panting. He looked over at her, her lips red and swollen and her hair a mess. “That’s how I like you,” he said softly.
“Turned on?” she asked.
“Yes, turned on is good. But I meant relaxed.”
“This,” she said, pointing at herself, “is not relaxed. But I’ll try to work on it if you work on that temper and your jealousy,” she said as she tried to fix her hair. He nodded.
“So you never answered the question,” Tony said as he drove. “Did you sleep with him? And before you tell me it’s none of my business, I know it’s not, but I’m going to go crazy thinking that you did until you tell me I’m wrong. So you should just put me out of my misery and tell me.”
Francesca sighed. He thought she wouldn’t answer, but when she did, it was the last thing he expected her to say.
“Yes,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear. “Yes, I slept with him.”
Tony’s grip tightened against the steering wheel. “So, what? Like a one-night stand? It did seem a little awkward in there. Like when you have a weird one-night stand and you don’t expect to see the other person again.” It would be hard, but he could handle a one-night stand. Hell, he had one-night stands all the time. He couldn’t expect her not to have a past, right?
“No. It wasn’t awkward like how a one-night stand is awkward.” She sighed. “It was like a husband-wife thing. Rodrigo is my ex-husband.” Tony’s head whipped around to look at her—just as he hit a bush by her house.
Chapter 7
It was seven that evening. Francesca was wearing black shorts, a blue blouse, and short combat boots. Tony had told her to dress comfortably and casually. It was the only thing he had said to her since she told him Rodrigo was her ex-husband. And it came in through a text. He hadn’t uttered one word other than a stream of Spanish curses as he backed off the bush; he’d let her out, then driven off.
She was nervous, since it had been years since she’d last gone on a date. It had also been a long time since she’d talked about her short-lived marriage, which she was sure would be the subject of the evening. When her doorbell rang, she actually felt nauseous.
Tony’s black hair was slicked back and still a little wet from his shower. He had on jeans and a navy blue polo that looked like it was cutting off the circulation around his biceps. He smelled like expensive cologne. As soon as their eyes met and he smiled, her nerves eased a little.
His dark eyes made their way from her toes up to her hair slowly. He squeezed the back of his neck, then ran his hand over his face. “What? You said casual,” she told him as she looked down at her outfit.
“It’s fine. Come on.” He reached for her hand and led her to the car. “I hope I can control my temper tonight. You’re a fucking hard-on, Francesca. Every guy’s going to be looking at your legs.”
“They’re just shorts. They’re not even short. No one will look twice. You’re just paranoid. Earlier it was the suit and now the shorts. You’re so difficult.”
He made a noise and mumbled something before helping her into his muscle car and closing the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “By the way, this is a cool car. A little loud, but I like it. Have I told you that before?”
“I rebuilt it. It’s a 1969 Camaro. And it’s not loud—that’s the purring sound of a perfect engine.” He ran his hand across the dashboard. “There’s a boxing match at the arena. I have tickets.”
She snorted. “First, I meant loud as in flashy. It’s pretty bright—yellow with that black racing stripe down the middle. And second, you’ve been hounding me to go out with you for months, and you’re taking me to a boxing match for our first date?”
“I had tickets. Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, a friend’s fighting.”
“You’re one weird guy, Antonio Marino.” He looked over at her and smiled. “But I do like to watch boxing. Boxing and tennis—those are the only sports I follow.”
He chuckled. “Tennis? What a combo. And you say I’m weird. Years ago, a judge ordered me to do some community service as punishment for a fight. I worked with some underprivileged kids on boxing, and this one kid, Tommy, he’s great. This is his first fight. He’s fifteen.”
He shrugged.
Once they arrived at the small arena, Francesca was surprised—all the fighters were young. There were kids competing in judo tournaments, tae kwon do, and boxing. He took her hand and led them to the back toward a thin kid with shaggy hair and goggles for glasses. He was jumping rope but stopped and ran full throttle toward Tony as soon as he saw him. “Tony!”
“Hey, champ. Looking good.” He squeezed the boy’s scrawny arms.
“Thanks. So glad you came. You should see Roberto, the guy I’m fighting. He looks like a wimp. I’m going to get him real good.” The boy jumped up and down, throwing punches at the air.
Tony kneeled down, grabbed the kid’s hands, and began to tighten the gloves, which hadn’t been put on correctly. “That’s great, Tommy. But don’t get too confident. You have to concentrate. You remember what I taught you, right? Keep your distance. Arms up.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got this.” The boy smiled.
Tony stood up. “Tommy, I’d like you to meet my friend Francesca. Francesca, this is Tommy.”
“Hi.” The boy waved with a gloved hand.
“Hi there, Tommy.” Francesca tapped his gloves. “Those’re some nice gloves you got there. And those shorts—they remind me of Tony’s.”
“Yeah. He got them for me.”
Francesca looked up at Tony, who shrugged. Knowing that Tony had done all this for the boy made her rethink a number of her opinions about him. She took Tony’s hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed.
“We’ll see you later, champ.”
“Bye, Tony. Bye, Francesca.”
“Bye, Tommy. Good luck.”
When Tommy had gone off to join his friends, Francesca reached up and placed a kiss on Tony’s lips.
“What’s that for?”
“You’re actually a good guy, Tony. If you could control that temper, any woman would be lucky to have you.”
“I have one woman in mind, but she has all sorts of issues. If she could work on her issues, let go a little, have a little fun, any man would be honored to have her.” He winked, returned the kiss, and led her to the bleachers.
Below the Belt Page 11