When he finished the soup, he placed the bowl on the side table and then lay back on the couch and watched his mom as she went around picking up his shoes. She was talking so fast he wondered if she ever stopped to take a breath. For the first time, he realized that his mother had been the most important woman in his life for so long, and he’d always stopped everything to help her if she needed something. She had sacrificed so much for them when they were growing up, and she’d never given up on him, even though any other mother would have, because Tony had been one hell of a kid to raise.
He loved being around his family, but right now they needed to leave. He wanted alone time with Francesca, and not in a sexual way. Well, mostly not sexual; he just wanted to be with her, in her company. And that scared the hell out of him, first because he’d never felt that way about anyone, and second, because he wasn’t sure where she stood. He’d never wanted any sort of commitment, but then he’d met Francesca, and now all he wanted was to claim this woman. To tame the untamable. For all other men to know that she was his. For her to know that she was his. Why couldn’t she just love him back?
His cell phone chimed with a text from Francesca: Goodnight, Antonio Juan de la Cruz Marino ; )
The lump in his throat tightened. He stood and began ushering his family out of his house.
—
A few days later, after Tony had started to feel better, he was lying on the couch drinking a beer and munching on some croquetas. Francesca had hovered, taking his temperature, making sure he ate, giving him medicine. She watched television with him and ordered them food. But they hadn’t talked about anything deeper than whether to have pizza or burgers for dinner.
“What are you eating?” she asked as she flopped down next to him, her feet on the coffee table. For the last few days she had been wearing jeans or shorts and T-shirts instead of her normal suits, and she looked younger.
He handed her one, and she took a bite. “These are good.”
“They’re called croquetas. They’re breaded, deep-fried, and filled with ham.”
“Wow. They’re delicious. Fattening, but delicious.” He shrugged and popped another in his mouth. “Your mother keeps bringing food over.”
“Yeah. She likes to cook.” He finished his beer. “I’m going to my family’s house later for a barbeque. Want to come?”
“Sure.” She stood. “What should I wear?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. But not a suit!” he added, and she laughed.
“Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t been wearing them. You must’ve noticed what a frumpy slob I’ve been the past few days.” She reached up to touch her hair. “I don’t even think I’ve brushed it today.”
He leaned over and sniffed. “You do kinda stink.”
She shoved him playfully. “Shut up. It’s not like I haven’t been bathing or anything. I just thought it was time I started relaxing a bit.”
“I like it.” He smiled at her. “Go dressed just like that.”
She looked down at her WtF T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. “I don’t think so,” she said wryly. “I’m trying to relax, not have people think I’m homeless. I’m going to change—be right back.”
Tony watched her jog up the stairs. “Hey!” he yelled up. “Where are those cats? I haven’t seen them in days.”
She stuck her head out the door. “Cain’s still got them. I go and play with them and then I change clothes so you don’t get all that cat hair on you. Now that you’re feeling better we can move them back in.”
“I want to take them with us and try to sic them on my sister again today at the barbeque. Can you stick them inside the carrier for me, please?”
“Yeah, sure,” she yelled down.
Twenty minutes later, Francesca walked down with the carrier filled with the three kittens. She had on white linen pants and a simple sleeveless red shirt and flats; her red hair had been brushed and was loose on her shoulders. She looked breathtaking.
“Ready?” she said with a smile.
“You look…wow.”
She glanced down at the kittens, blushing at his comment. “You think your sister will take ’em back?”
“Doubt it, but at least my nieces can visit with them a little.”
—
His mother’s house was not as grand as Tony’s, but it was still huge. Unlike Tony’s, it was warm and inviting and she fell in love with it immediately. “Mi hijo,” Annie said as he came in. She smiled warmly at her son, who hugged her. Then she hugged Francesca and said, “Welcome to my home, hija.”
Six dark-haired girls squealed and ran full throttle at Tony, who was crouched down with his arms open. He closed his arms and hugged them tightly. They all giggled as they asked for piggyback rides. Tony stood holding the youngest of the bunch. “Francesca, this is Jill, Diane, Lidia, Stephanie, Alexa, and this little one here is Ana. My nieces.”
Francesca looked down at the cute little girls. “Very nice to meet you.”
“You’re pretty,” Ana said.
“Are you my tío’s girlfriend?” Diane, the oldest, asked.
Francesca’s face reddened, and Tony chuckled but didn’t say anything.
“Yes, I am,” she said to Diane.
Ana, whom Tony was holding, tugged at a piece of Francesca’s hair. “Blue!”
“No, Ana, it’s red,” Jill corrected. “She’s learning her colors,” she explained, and Francesca giggled.
“Cinderella!” Ana yelped when she saw the kitten’s nose sticking out of the carrier. “Mami!” she yelled. “Mami! Tío brought back our kitties!”
Diane grabbed the carrier and left the room, Ana skipping behind her.
“Twenty bucks we end up with those damn cats back in my car,” Tony whispered.
“No way! How could anyone say no to those little girls?”
“You don’t know Isabella very well yet. She’ll tell them no and send them back. She’s a great mom—the best, actually. But she’s strict. You’ll see.”
For the next few hours Francesca ate some of the best food she’d ever tasted and got to meet Tony’s huge family. She met the other sisters, as well as a lot of cousins and aunts and uncles. For the most part, Tony stayed by her side. The two eldest nieces, Diane and Jill, wanted Tony to help them with their boxing after dinner. She’d learned that the girls were in a kids’ kickboxing class and loved to talk about their uncle to anyone who would listen.
Francesca sat back and watched him work with Diane and Jill, and eventually he was surrounded by all six nieces. Sofia sat down next to Francesca. “He wanted to be a teacher,” she told her.
“He did? He’s good at it. I can see it.”
“Has he introduced you to Tommy?”
Francesca remembered the younger boxer. “Yes, I met Tommy. Sweet kid.”
“Yeah. Whenever Tony’s not traveling he goes to the community center and helps out with the kids. He says it’s for his public image.”
Francesca laughed. The cocky bastard would say that. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy as that day with Tommy or now with the girls,” Francesca said, watching him correct their stance.
Sofia stood up. “You’re wrong about that.” Francesca looked up at her quizzically. “I’ve never seen him as happy as when he’s with you,” Sofia said before walking away. Damn, the woman was good with exits, Francesca thought.
After all the goodbyes had been said, Tony drove them back to his house, the kittens fast asleep in their carrier on the backseat.
“You should teach,” Francesca said. “You had mentioned the possibility of retiring. After this last fight, maybe you could start a kids’ class at WtF.”
He turned his head from the road to look at her. “What?”
“Tommy, the girls…that’s where your passion is. Not in fighting. Not anymore. You should think about it.”
Tony didn’t say anything. He just continued to stare straight ahead. Had she said too much? Maybe crossed a boundary? Maybe the man didn’t wan
t to retire. She needed to find a way to talk to him about this without making him self-conscious about his age.
—
Francesca was lying on a love seat in her room in Tony’s house reading a book when he walked in. She had Winston on her lap, and the other three cats were playing with the laces of her sneakers. She closed her book and set it down.
“You must be bored out of your skull. I’m feeling much better—maybe we can go down to the beach or for a drive or something.”
“I’m good. I told Cain it was cool if he took off for a few days, and I was able to get lots of work done while you were sick this last week. I Skyped with Slade. Since the gym reopened two weeks ago, everything seems to be going smoothly.” She sighed in frustration at the reminder. “Ugh. I feel like all I’ve done is renovate that stupid place. Damn hurricane! Fucking gym.”
Tony sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. She sat down, and when he put his arm around her shoulder she snuggled closer. When she was soft and compliant like this, he just wanted to tuck her under his arm and protect her from the world, although it was a silly notion considering the woman packed a punch and could really kick some serious ass. Not that he didn’t like that too—he did. A lot.
“Are you not happy about owning the gym? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She shrugged. “I mean, it was always sort of implied that I would take over the gym, I suppose. But, no, it’s not really what I wanted. I wanted to be a lawyer. I wanted to go to law school, which is what I was on track to do when my dad had his first stroke. I got a late start because of the whole marriage thing, but I was working on it.”
“So don’t do it. Let Slade run it. Sell it.”
She gasped and looked up. “Are you nuts? The gym’s all that Pai cares about. He’d die. Literally. He emails, texts, or calls every day, and the first thing he asks is how things are going at WtF.”
“There has to be another way. You can’t just resign yourself to making this your life if you hate it.”
“I don’t hate it. I just don’t…I don’t know, it’s not what I wanted.”
“Is it because it reminds you of Rodrigo?”
She moved away a little and sat cross-legged on the bed next to him.
“Not really. Not anymore, at least. It’s not even that I don’t want to run it; it’s more that my dream was to go to law school and open a practice or something. Then maybe when my dad was really old, I’d take it over or have someone run it. But now, at twenty-eight, it’s not what I had planned. But he’s my dad, and he’s been such a great dad that I can’t let him down. Kind of like how you do so much for your mom. I have to do this for my dad.”
“I don’t know. I guess.” He shrugged.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail and nudged him on the shoulder. “So, can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Why do you have such an ugly house?”
He looked around. “What are you talking about? This house has imported marble floors and countertops, five bedrooms, top-of-the-line appliances—”
“It’s cold, ostentatious, and butt-ugly.”
He glared at her, then looked around and burst out laughing. “It was the most expensive one in the neighborhood.”
“So that’s why you bought it? ’Cause it was the most expensive? Do you even like it?”
He pondered the question. “Never really thought about it. Haven’t spent enough time in it to like or dislike it.”
She patted his cheek with her palm roughly. “Well, Scarface, think about it. ’Cause I think it’s fucking hideous.” And just like that, his spitfire was back.
“God, I love you.”
She opened her mouth and tried to say the words. Instead, she took her hair out of the ponytail and wrapped the rubber band around her wrist. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to find us some food.”
He looked heartbroken for a moment, but then he shook his head and said, “Get dressed. I’m taking you out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You haven’t seen my favorite spots in Miami yet. And I think we need a nice night out before the big fight.”
Chapter 14
The weigh-in was scheduled to take place at a nearby hotel the day before the fight. The street and lobby were swarming with media as well as fans. Rodrigo was already there with his entourage. He was in sweatpants and a shirt that clung to his body, and his head and face were freshly shaved. He was tall and imposing and completely in the zone, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him. Tony, on the other hand, was relaxed and confident, playful and cocky, and as always, he played to the fans who were there as well as the media. But Francesca knew him well enough already to understand that it was an act.
He’d been on liquids only for the last two days, since he was worried about making weight. That morning as he was shaving off his beard, she’d heard a loud “Fuck!” from the bathroom.
Francesca had run into the bathroom. “What happened?”
He was blotting the corner of his jaw with paper. “Cut myself.”
She took the razor from his hands. “Give me that before you really do some harm.”
“I need to shave,” he practically growled.
“I hope this isn’t so you can make weight.” She laughed. “It won’t help much.”
He grunted a response.
“Honey, you’ve done a good job. You’ll make weight.” She turned his face toward her and began to shave his face carefully.
“I missed over a week of training.”
“No. You missed five days of training, and you were sick—that’s a valid reason. You’ve made up for that the last few days, and you were doing great before you got sick. You’ll be fine.”
He didn’t respond, and she continued to shave him without talking. When she finished she ran her fingers across his smooth skin. “I have to admit, I think I’ll miss the beard.” She reached up to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What?”
“I see that look. You know the rules. I’m on dick lockout.”
She huffed. “Don’t tell me you believe in that no-sex rule.”
“Believe? It’s a fact, not a myth. You shouldn’t have sex for at least two weeks before a fight. That ship’s obviously sailed, but the day before, it’s a must.”
She stepped back and crossed her arms. “It’s a myth, honey. Explain the logic behind it.”
“We need the testosterone buildup in our bodies. Plus everyone knows women suck all the energy out of men, and you would be even worse than other women. Because, well…because you’re you.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to leave me all hot and bothered.”
He gave her his smile. “Just because I can’t get some doesn’t mean you can’t.” He lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder, and she yelped and laughed.
“Tony! What are you doing?”
“I haven’t had a meal in two days—I’m starving!” he growled, looking completely predatory.
He was hungry? Well, she admitted, he was practically fasting. “Uh…okay. You want me to make you a protein shake or something?”
“Nope.” He put a knee on the bed and reached for the top of her jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped them.
“Tony!” She tried to fend him off. “I thought you couldn’t have sex. I thought you were hungry.”
“Ravenous.” He tugged her jeans off, almost causing her to fall off the bed. Her panties came off too. Without any further conversation, his eyes homed in on her pussy. He pulled her thighs apart and reached under her, pulling her ass up, and then he was…there. His tongue licked along her pussy from bottom to top, then he began to suck on her clit, hard and unrelenting. Every time she squirmed, he held her down tighter.
“Oh my God!” she yelled.
“No. Not God, Tony.”
“Tony!” she yelled again, her head th
rashing from side to side and her hands fisting the sheets. Then he pushed two fingers inside and nipped her clit with his teeth, and she came completely undone.
She heard faint laughter but was too weak and sated to figure out what was going on. A few minutes later, she opened one eye to see Tony’s smug face close to hers.
She glared at him, and he laughed again. “What’s so funny?”
“Fuck, woman, you said so many curse words in English and in Portuguese that I almost had to bust out the handy English-Portuguese translation app on my phone.”
“Shut up,” she said lazily. “That was so good, but now I just want to sleep for three days.”
“And that’s why I can’t have sex before a fight.”
She turned over, her hands under a pillow and her legs tucked under her body. She sighed contentedly. “Point made.”
He laughed, covered her, and kissed her forehead before heading out for a jog. He needed a distraction from the world’s worst case of blue balls.
Now, at the weigh-in, she knew firsthand that the self-assured Tony the media were interviewing was just a façade. He wasn’t as confident as he led everyone to believe.
Tony was up first. The scale was in the middle of a small stage, the blown-up promotional poster of the fight the backdrop. Tony took off his Worth the Fight Academy shirt and gym shorts and stood in black Speedos. His body was all hard edges and muscles. The only word that came to mind was shredded. His thighs were his most impressive feature. They were huge. He stood on the scale, and Francesca couldn’t help but close her eyes. Slade stood next to her, and he too didn’t seem to be breathing. When the gaming commissioner announced Tony’s weight at 204 pounds, they both breathed in relief. Tony’s walking-around weight was around 230 pounds. Tony stepped off the scale subdued. She knew him well enough to know he was probably so relieved he couldn’t joke around about anything. He was most likely saying a silent prayer thanking every saint his mother had been praying to.
Below the Belt Page 25