“No, I suppose I would like for you to pick me up but I do have one request.”
“What’s that?” Torin wondered after he’d swallowed half his bottle of water.
“I refuse to go to any restaurants on the Strip.”
“So I can take you to the Red Rock Hotel and Casino?”
“Is that on the Strip?”
“Course not, it’s in Summerlin.”
“I know where it is, Torin. That means you can take me there. I like Gordon Biersch and The Cheesecake Factory too.”
“Well, you’ve given me more than enough suggestions for restaurants. I’ll pick you up at seven after I finish my training and get a chance to shower.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Chiara replied in a subdued voice.
“No, actually it’s a date.” Torin didn’t give her a chance to answer back before he ended the call.
He finished his bottle of water and felt a bit like a bitch. He couldn’t believe how excited he was to see this woman again, and it had nothing to do with sex. He wouldn’t mind having her again, and he would, but he was more excited to get to know her.
Torin was about to set his phone down on the sofa when it dinged with a message.
Chiara: Didn’t you hang up a little prematurely? You didn’t get my address.
Torin laughed out loud, and then texted her back on his Samsung Note.
Torin: I was a little happy about you accepting my invitation but that’s what text is for. Are you gonna give me your addy?
Chiara: I suppose I need to if I want you to pick me up. 425 Fern Hill Drive in North Las Vegas. I trust you will be able to find it with no problem with GPS.
He grinned and thought of a witty reply.
Torin: See you tonight at 7. Can’t wait to spend an evening with you with your clothes on. ;-)
Chiara: Looking forward to it! <3
Torin studied her last text for a moment before he stood from his comfortable sofa, and grabbed his gym bag on the foyer table. He walked out to his four-car garage, which stored his black Porsche Cayenne, sangria red BMW 6 Series Coupé and a silver Cadillac Escalade EXT for when he felt like being sportier and inconspicuous.
He already knew he would pick up Chiara in the BMW though he took the Cadillac to drive to practice. The all-round limo tint helped that he couldn’t be seen but he also liked to drive a big, sturdy truck when the mood suited him and the Cayenne was anything but big, although it was a Porsche so that was all that mattered.
The fourth stall held a top of the line Harley Davidson Tri Glide Ultra in the color of champagne but he didn’t get to ride it as much as he would have liked. It was as close to a motorcycle as he would get, even if it did look like a grown man’s tricycle but it was a comfortable ride and built for both comfort and speed.
Why did he get the thought of taking Chiara out for a ride the following day if their date went well? He didn’t practice on Sundays and they could spend the whole day together if they wanted to and she didn’t have any further obligations.
Christ, what’s wrong with me and why I am thinkin’ like a bitch? Do I really have a future with this woman?
Torin hated when his manly side, his protective side took over. It was one of the dangerous side effects of having a shitty fucking childhood. It was hard to know who was a true friend and who was using him for fame. The golden rule also applied as well: women could never be trusted.
They were usually in it because they were attention-seeking whores or were more interested in who he knew so they could use those very same people too. They always had a modeling, acting, singing career that was on the verge of exploding and could use all the help they could get. He didn’t need those kinds of problems in his life. With a woman—no matter how she presented herself—gorgeous and sexy came a shit load of drama. He’d yet to meet one that could prove his theory wrong.
However, there was something about Chiara that appealed to his human side, the compassionate side of Torin. Not many people outside his family knew that part of him existed but he’d always had a “thing” for the wounded and wronged in life. It was the reason why besides Kieran, Jesse was his best friend.
They all came from broken homes and knew real pain, suffering and longing. There was something deeply disturbing about one’s parents not giving a shit about them. If they didn’t think they were worth the trouble then how could a stranger ever feel anything for them besides disgust, pity or an opportunity waiting to be had?
He instinctively recognized Chiara as a kindred soul. She didn’t have to say anything but despite her background, she still gave more than she received, had a huge heart and would never use him. He knew it might still be the lingering of post-coital bliss but she was different from any other woman he’d ever met and he was determined to hold on to her for a while, or as long as he could.
Their type of people didn’t like to be tied down and he wondered when she would split or cause a rift just so she could end whatever it was they shared together? She was wounded and they were the most dangerous kind.
Torin would know because he was damaged beyond repair himself.
Fighting was an outlet but it was the only thing he could hold on to. He had no illusions he would ever have a long-lasting relationship with one person or even give a damn enough to marry and have children.
That kind of life had passed most of the Duffy kin by. They were all walking wounded and would never let their guard down long enough to fall in love. Call it luck of the draw or a roll of the dice but between life in Catholic Belfast and a completely shitty childhood, they were fucked from the get-go, and they all knew it.
Kieran met him outside the gym. He smoked a cigarette lazily and looked exhausted.
Despite the rigorous exercise and all the training they went through, Kieran couldn’t quit his half pack a day habit. He also had a good five years on his older brother and at twenty-five, thought he would live forever.
Torin believed in living life and occasionally smoked and had the odd joint every now and then during his off season but he avoided everything bad for his health while training. He was no longer young and thirty-one loomed way too quickly for him. He was coming to the home stretch of his career and he needed to win the championship if he ever wanted to become a legend. All vices could wait until that one goal was accomplished.
“Bro, you look like you had a rough night,” he greeted as Kieran dragged from his cigarette.
“You have no idea, Tor.” He sighed as he exhaled. “That Alexis was a tigress in bed and wore me the fuck out. I didn’t get to sleep until almost five this morning. I’m beat so maybe you need to find another sparring partner.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Long night or not, you’re gonna spar with me. I didn’t exactly have a quiet night myself and I have a date tonight so I need to work off some excess energy. I have to be too damn tired to even hit on this woman. I only want to give her a goodnight kiss and that is it.”
Keiran’s blue eyes lit up. “You? On a date? Bro, you don’t even do dates so what the fuck is goin’ on?”
“Chiara and I had…a connection.”
“Okay, let me get this straight: you already fucked the bitch and know what she looks like without a stitch on but you’re goin’ out on a date with her. Isn’t that a bit tits up? How the hell do you start a relationship when it was based on sex to begin with?”
“It happens…” Torin trailed off cryptically.
“In the movies and bad romance novels maybe but not in real life.” Kieran ground out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood against the wall of the gym.
“Listen, stop bein’ so fuckin’ cynical for a sec and listen to me. I really like this woman. She’s different and she isn’t a bitch. She’s cultured, clean and very intelligent. She isn’t like any other woman I’ve ever dated before—”
“Maybe that’s because you don’t date. You fuck whores, strippers and cocktail waitresses. The kind of life we lead isn’t conducive to us bein
g one-woman men, Tor. Fuck her again—get her the hell out of your system but don’t set yourself up to be let down.” His brother glanced at him with a genuine look of worry on his face.
“What the fuck do you care so much about what I do?” Torin questioned, his voice rising.
“Because, I saw her too. She’s like us—wounded, scared of showing her emotions, and frightened. Those kind cut the deepest. Believe me, I know.”
“Is this about you and Tara not working out? You could have her, you know. The problem is you gotta stop all your fuckin’ around and be with her alone. She isn’t gonna take your shit and she sure as fuck isn’t gonna share you—”
“Tara’s my best friend and I would rather keep it that way, but cheers for the advice. Seriously, I’m not good enough for her and even if I was, she’s dating some guinea gangster. You think I am gonna mess with someone from the Abandonato crew? They are one of the most powerful Mafia families in Nevada. I don’t have time to be something or someone special to her…other than a friend,” Kieran explained away as they both headed back inside.
“That’s only because you’re scared you can’t be anything special to her but she’s in love with you, bro, and has been since we were kids. Do you think she wants to be around to see you go through your endless parade of women? With her feeling the way she does about you? Women don’t work that way and Tara definitely isn’t wired like that. She can’t hide her feelings through random, short term relationships like you do.”
“This discussion is over. Go change, give me ten and then we can spar.”
“Fine.” Torin began to walk towards the locker room. “You don’t wanna talk, that’s cool with me but don’t dump your shit on me. Your issues aren’t mine. If anyone should be truly fucked up, it’s me. I took the brunt of the punishment from you little bastards for years—”
“—you did, Torin, but then he eventually started on us and we got our beat downs, bloody noses and bruises just like you did so don’t go all St. Duffy on me. You don’t know what it was like because you bailed on all of us when you were eighteen.”
He turned away from his brother and murmured to himself, “What did you expect? I couldn’t take it anymore. I woulda done something I’d live to regret and be spendin’ the rest of my life in prison instead of here in America. I did what I had to do.”
Torin knew they all blamed him to a certain extent because he didn’t stay longer but what they couldn’t understand was he didn’t have a choice. Their old man kicked him out and he’d been on his own ever since.
THE SPAR SESSION with Kieran worked up a hell of a sweat and was a great work out but it was nothing special. His brother was exhausted and could hardly keep up with him. He was hardly the ideal opponent he would face in the ring but at least it counted for practice.
Neil had complained and kept Kieran behind for another hour but at six-fifteen, Torin headed out the door looking sharp in a black Armani suit and drove back to his house where he switched vehicles before he set off to pick up Chiara.
The GPS led him directly to her home without a hitch although she’d failed to give him the code until he called her to tell her he was at her gated residency.
Torin pulled up and Chiara walked out looking like a million bucks. She wore a scarlet cocktail dress which ended just above the knees and a pair of black expensive high heels which were perfect though not too high. Her long hair was up in an elaborate up-do and her makeup was understated and muted except for the bright scarlet lipstick she wore, which matched her dress.
She looked stunning.
He got out of his car and greeted her like a gentleman with a hug and kiss against one of her soft cheeks. “You look gorgeous. Let me show you to the car.”
Chiara smiled demurely as she looked him up and down. “I wasn’t sure what you would wear but I’m glad to know we were on the same wavelength as far as clothing’s concerned. You look quite drop dead sexy yourself and incredibly virile. I just know I will get more than a few daggers thrown my way by all the jealous women tonight.”
Torin opened the passenger door. “Don’t worry about them. I’m with you and I don’t have a wandering eye. You’re the only person I want to gaze at while we enjoy our overpriced meals.”
“Well, nothing is overpriced if you truly enjoy what you’re eating and the company you’re keeping,” she responded before he closed her door.
He’d never ever experienced a feeling like that with a woman before; the act of enjoying their company and the food regardless of the price but if he indeed lived in the moment then how could any amount of money compare to that emotion of being satisfied and completely fulfilled?
It couldn’t be measured and all he could process at that moment was the beauty of Chiara’s statement.
Torin walked over, opened the driver’s side car door and closed it as soon as he sat down and situated himself.
“In that case, I hope you enjoy tonight, no matter how much the meal costs.”
She merely glanced back with beguiling amber eyes that seemed to search his soul before she said, “I hope we both find what we seek tonight. It makes it that much more…interesting…for the both of us.”
He certainly couldn’t argue with that, and decided not to as he turned on his vehicle and they raced off into the Vegas night where anything that was possible awaited them with arms wide open.
Chapter Six
Chiara
TORIN WAS A complete and utter visual experience.
I had to admit when he called me and asked to take me out, I’d had my doubts about his ulterior motives. I just knew “dinner” was a code word for a quick night out on the town and then back to his house for seconds and maybe thirds of what we’d experienced the night before but I was wrong.
He was a complete and total gentleman who treated me like a lady, and for that, I was grateful, especially since I was off the clock.
I wasn’t a fool and knew this counted as an “outside relationship”, which was expressly forbidden and included in the contract I had signed with Raymond Jackson. The only “dates” I was allowed to be on was when a man paid for the privilege of being in my presence.
Last night was kosher because I was on the clock.
This, however, was not, because Torin was a client, and therefore, he was getting a “freebie” when everyone else had to pay through the nose.
I eased my conflicted conscience with technicalities and easy white lies. He was a famous mixed martial artist and we were friends. There was absolutely nothing unsavory about a friend taking me to dinner since he didn’t expect sex at the end of the evening.
The conversation between us flowed easily and freely as we sat in a private room in The Cheesecake Factory at Town Square Center in Summerlin. We both smiled and laughed a lot as we talked about our childhoods. Times that were not so pleasant but it hadn’t made either one of us bitter or resentful. It just was.
Some people had happy childhoods and others didn’t.
We were the others: broken, battered, bleeding but we’d survived to see another day and found no joy in feeling sorry for ourselves but instead rejoicing in how we’d overcome our adversities to be well adjusted human beings who contributed to the economy and had the opportunity to have jobs that provided stable income.
“Wow, the daughter of one of the main members of the Bassi crime family? That must have been interesting. What did your mother do?” Torin inquired over avocado eggrolls and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
“Well, technically, the family went legit when they started the Bassi Construction Company but everyone knew they used the Union to get most of the prime projects, both here and in northern Nevada. My father is a very interesting figure to be honest but I don’t know him. I was just an illegitimate daughter of his and I’ve only met him and my half-brothers a handful of times.” I paused and sipped from my wine after polishing off an eggroll.
“And your mother? How did she become so close to the family anyway? Is she Italian?”<
br />
“No. My mother hails from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She’s a French mutt: both Cajun and Creole blood runs through her veins. She did work for the family and had an affair with my father, Antonio Bassi. It was short lived but it did produce me. Before then, she worked for the Abandonato Mafia family and my older sister is the result of an affair with Santino Abandonato,” I explained in a calm voice.
“So, what is the difference between Cajuns and Creoles?” Torin stole the last eggroll, not that I minded.
This dinner alone was going to lead to at least two hours at the gym the next day.
“Well, Creoles are mutts. They are usually a mixture of French, Spanish, Native American and Africans who all gathered together and interbred when Louisiana was still French property, before Napoleon sold it the United States with the Louisiana Purchase. Cajuns were basically French Canadians who came down and decided they preferred the States to Canada. They’ve been here so long, they are obviously considered Americans but those are the main differences.
“My grandfather was Cajun and my grandmother was Creole. She didn’t have any Spanish in her but everything else applied. In terms of my father, his family hails from northern Italy, near Florence. As you know, northern Italians have this…thing…about thinking they are better than Sicilians, and southern Italians in general. Both the Bassi and Abandonato families are northern Italian so they didn’t really do a lot of business with the Southern Italian Mafia families.
“They branched out and started working with Raymond Jackson and one of the major motorcycle clubs in northern Nevada that doesn’t have anything to do with the Russian Mafia. They can’t stand them anymore than they can stand the Sicilians. It’s an old rivalry that goes back longer than you or I have been here on this earth. I don’t even try to understand it anymore because I would rather not be involved.”
Love TKO Page 7