by Cora Reilly
She tore her gaze away from me. She swallowed. “So, will you fight with me today?”
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked.
She nodded, expression brightening. “Diego’s always holding back. How can I improve with that training?”
Diego gave me an exasperated look over her head, and I smirked. “If you want someone who won’t hold back, you’ll have to fight my brother, Remo. He won’t hold back, trust me. After that, I’ll fight with you.”
Nino and Remo stopped their fighting in the cage, their eyes on me.
Gemma’s eyes grew wide as her gaze slid past me toward my brothers. Remo was a scary fucker. Most men wouldn’t dare face him in the cage, or anywhere else. He had left a bloody trail in his claim for power, but he was the best Capo the Camorra had ever seen.
Diego pointed toward a few chairs next to the boxing ring. “Come on, Gemma, sit down and let me train with Savio.”
Gemma tore her wide-eyed gaze from Remo and looked up at me. “If I fight him, you’ll train with me twice a week for the next year.”
Oh, now we were bartering?
“Three months,” I said with a shake of my head. Even that would mean a seriously deep cut in my free time—meaning less time with girls who actually had something to offer.
“Six months,” she said firmly, lifting her chin. She held my gaze.
I gave her a smirk. “All right.” She’d run away screaming the moment she was in a cage with my brother anyway.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Diego said quickly. He looked worried for his sister. Remo had been on edge lately with his trip approaching to Outfit territory to kidnap a bride, but my brother wouldn’t hurt a girl.
“Hey Remo, can you come over for a sec?”
Remo rubbed his face and chest dry, then dropped the towel and climbed out of the fighting cage. Nino followed after him and both stopped beside me.
“Gemma wants to play with the big boys,” I told Remo. “She wants to fight you.”
“You’re Daniele’s youngest,” Remo said, more statement than question. People were always surprised when Remo knew them, but my brothers and I knew all our soldiers in Las Vegas and the high-ranking Camorrista in our entire territory. You couldn’t establish power without knowing the people you’d have to control.
Gemma flushed. “Yes…” She trailed off, obviously unsure what to call him. I had to stifle laughter. I’d have loved to see her call him Sir or Mr. Falcone.
“Gemma’s only thirteen,” Diego added. A hint of protectiveness rang in his voice.
Remo nodded, but he was looking at Gemma, then at me. I cocked one eyebrow at him.
“Maybe,” Nino drawled. “Gemma should fight me instead.”
Gemma’s eyes darted to Nino. She didn’t look happier about that. His reputation wasn’t much better than Remo’s. Most people were creeped out by the fact that Nino didn’t have emotions.
Remo’s mouth twitched. Of course, he found it funny when Nino tried to prevent a misfortune from happening.
“That wasn’t the deal,” I said.
Remo tilted his head with the fucking twisted smile that made grown men piss their pants. “You want to fight me?”
Gemma swallowed, but she straightened her shoulders. Her eyes darted to the scar marring Remo’s eyebrow and temple. “I do. That was the deal, like Savio said.”
Diego stared from his sister to me, giving me a meaningful look. He wanted me to interfere because he couldn’t with Remo. But I found the whole thing way too entertaining to stop it.
“Then go ahead,” Remo said.
“The cage,” I reminded Gemma.
A hint of anxiety flitted in her eyes and Diego gripped my arm and whispered harshly, “What’s the matter with you? Are you fucking crazy? This is my little sister. She’s not some fucking toy you can play with!”
“Calm down,” I said.
Diego swallowed, turning to Remo. “Can I ask you to wear a shirt when fighting my sister?”
Remo’s dark brows pulled together.
I snorted. “Don’t tell me this is because of your traditional bullshit?”
Diego glared at me and Gemma turned even redder and stared down at her feet.
Remo nodded, surprising me. Nino walked over to the gym bag and took out a black shirt, which he handed Remo, who pulled it over his head. Remo didn’t play by the rules. He made them. But showing respect to his men no matter how ridiculous their traditions was something he paid attention to.
With a last glance at me, Gemma climbed into the cage, followed by Remo who closed the door with a clang, causing Gemma to jump.
I moved closer, so did Nino and a seething Diego. “What’s Remo going to do?” he asked.
Nino replied before I could, “He won’t hurt your sister. At least not more than she can take.”
Diego’s face turned red and he sent me a scowl. “I swear,” he whispered. “If Gemma gets hurt, you can do your shit alone. Then we’re done.”
He was fucking scared for her. I always forgot that only my brothers and I knew Remo. He was a brutal fucker, merciless and psychotic as fuck, but he wasn’t into humiliating or torturing innocents, especially not underage girls. “Just calm the fuck down. He’ll scare her a bit, that’s all.”
I turned my attention back to the cage where Remo and Gemma were facing each other. It was a ridiculous sight. Gemma was scrawny and barely reached Remo’s chest, but she managed to keep her expression surprisingly fearless. Only her eyes reflected the respect and fear Remo invoked in her. My brother assessed her closely like he always did with his opponents, to find their weakness and determine how to crush them hard and fast, or how to obliterate them as painfully and slowly as he enjoyed. But I had a feeling with Gemma, he was trying to figure out a way to fight her without doing too much damage.
That Gemma had even dared to enter a cage with him came unexpected. Maybe Kitty would surprise me.
I knew Savio thought I’d back out of our deal, but I wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. I wanted to train with him, wanted to show him that I wasn’t a little girl anymore, not a kid whose hair he could tousle.
And yet looking at Remo Falcone made me want to take flight. All those scars and muscles, and his reputation made my pulse pick up. Him covering them with a shirt didn’t make him any less imposing. I had seen a few fights on Toni’s laptop, and all of the Falcones were scary in the cage, but the Capo, he was out of this world brutal. Diego always talked about him like he wasn’t even human.
“How long have you been fighting?” he asked, making me jump. He noticed, mouth twitching, and so had Savio who looked like he was about to start laughing.
I flushed. “Three years.” My gaze lingered around his nose because his eyes scared me too much.
“Not meeting your opponent’s gaze suggests you’re submitting. Are you submitting before the fight has even started, Gemma?” he asked in a low voice.
My eyes snapped up to his. “No.”
It was a struggle holding his gaze. I got why Dad, Diego, and the other men always spoke with so much respect about their Capo.
“Good,” he said. He beckoned me forward. “Attack.”
I took a few steps forward, raising my fists to shield my face. He was too tall. Hitting Diego had already been difficult, but the Capo was even taller. He mirrored my moves, raising his fists up to his face. My stomach was in knots as I tried to gather the courage to hit him.
“Come on, Kitty, show claws,” Savio called.
Remo’s mouth twitched, and I lunged, trying to land a punch in his lower belly. His hand blocked me and that move already hurt like crazy. His other hand went past my defenses and pushed against my stomach. Not a punch, a shove that made me stumble backward and almost lose my balance.
A shove? That wasn’t a move in a cage fight. I glared, angry, and barreled toward him again. I had to use my speed and small body if I wanted any chance. Remo’s smile widened. He tried to grab me, but I dropp
ed to my knees and did a forward roll. I’d planned to use his wide stance to move through his legs, but he grasped one of my ankles and tugged. I landed flat on my back with a gasp, and then he straddled my legs and pressed my wrists together over my head. “Surrender,” he said.
I struggled, trying to get out of his hold.
“Surrender,” he ordered.
I didn’t want to. I was angry at Savio for making me fight his brother, knowing I’d humiliate myself, but I was even angrier at myself for wanting Savio’s attention so badly that I’d agreed to this deal. Remo hadn’t even fought me. He’d toyed with me, just like Savio. This was over so quick it couldn’t be considered a fight. I tried to arch off the ground or free my arms, but his hold was like steel. His fingers tightened, becoming uncomfortable. “You need to know when to surrender.”
“Surrender, Gemma,” Diego called.
I could feel tears of anger rising in my eyes. “No! Neither of you would!”
Remo’s grip on my wrists became painful. “That’s true, but we live with the consequences. You can refuse surrender because you know you’re safe from pain. You’re playing the girl-card.”
“I’m not! You all decide to coddle me because I’m a girl. I don’t mind pain! I want to be taken seriously!” I bit out, struggling harder, tired of being regarded like a cute little kitty.
“Remo,” Nino Falcone said in warning.
I winced under the force of Remo’s grip. “If I tighten my hold further, I’ll snap your thin wrists clean in half. Pride is an honorable thing, but don’t let it get in the way of a wise choice. Your fights will never be ours, so you can’t fight them the same way we do.”
I looked away. “I surrender.”
He released me and got to his feet. Savio and Diego joined us in the cage. Diego gave me a reprimanding look, but Savio nodded as if he was impressed.
“I lost. You don’t have to pretend I did good.” Tears of embarrassment and anger threatened to burst forth, but so far, I’d managed not to cry in front of Savio and I had no intention of changing that. Some girls only cried when they were heartbroken or sad, I wasn’t that lucky. I also bawled when I was angry or exceedingly happy, which led to many embarrassing scenes. Emotionality ran like a curse in our family—at least on the female side. Diego had the emotional range of a brick.
Savio chuckled and exchanged a look with his older brother. Diego rolled his eyes. This was too much. I jumped to my feet and shoved past them, then hoisted myself out of the cage and rushed toward one of the doors, hoping it would lead to a restroom. I needed to splash some water in my face before I lost it… and the remains of my dignity.
I’d wanted to impress Savio with my skills so he’d finally take notice of me, but now they all laughed at me like many did in school because of my clothes and beliefs.
“Gemma, get a grip!” Diego called.
I ignored him. Half the time, he was the reason why I cried anyway. I pushed through the door and into a locker room where I made a beeline for the sink. I splashed water onto my face, sucking in a sharp breath from the cold. It helped with the crying sensation though.
I sank down on one of the benches and stared down at my shabby white sneakers. Diego had worn them when he was eleven. Now it was my turn. The door creaked and steps rang out.
“Leave me alone. I’m not speaking to you anymore. You keep embarrassing me in front of Savio.”
Brand-new stylish black and gold Nike came into view—a limited edition that cost more than Diego’s and my wardrobe together. I wished the ground would swallow me. “That’s what siblings are for, Kitty.”
I wanted him to go away, to spare me the mortification, but even now I craved his closeness. I looked up and his lips twitched. “Why are you here?” The snappiness I was aiming for turned into a hopeful whisper.
Savio’s mouth twitched again, making me self-conscious. “You fought against Remo. Geez, Kitty, most guys would have shit their pants in a cage with Remo, and you showed sass.”
I blinked, trying to figure out if he was pulling my leg. He held out his hand, which I took, and he pulled me to my feet.
“Diego is throwing a hissy-fit. Come on, let’s go back so I can kick his ass.”
“When will you fight me?”
“How about tomorrow?”
Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant church and family dinner, but maybe I could squeeze a session in. But Diego had to help Dad repair our stove in the restaurant. “Diego can’t take me. He’s got to help Dad in the Capri.”
Savio shrugged. “I can pick you up from church and take you back home. I need to work out tomorrow anyway.”
I grinned. “Great.”
His mouth twitched once more. “Maybe you should risk a look into the mirror before you come back out.” With that, he turned and walked through the door.
My stomach tightened in apprehension as I faced the mirror over the sink. I’d put on a hint of mascara and now it was smeared all around my eyes. I looked like a raccoon.
Diego was angry, but I didn’t care. “Dad won’t agree, just so you know.”
“What’s the big deal?”
He tossed me a glare as he pulled his rusty Ford Ranger up in front of our house. The scent of the cigarillos Grandpa had smoked still clung to the leather and ceiling, which was why Nonna refused to use the car—too much grief.
“Really?” he muttered. “The big deal is that you agreed that Savio would pick you up and train with you.”
“So what? He’s your friend.”
“Yeah, he is. I know him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I scowled. Before Diego had turned the ignition off, I jumped out of the car, grabbing the house keys, and tore toward the front door then locked it. I needed to talk to Dad first if I wanted any chance of getting his approval. Diego would only ruin everything. I ran past Mom who was vacuuming the living room, and into the kitchen from where the scent of Nonna’s famous rabbit stew wafted over to me. I stumbled inside.
Dad sat at the table, bent over bills, judging by the deep frown on his forehead. Nonna stirred the stew with a wooden spoon and sang one of the old Italian love songs that made Mom teary-eyed.
I hurried toward Dad, earning a disapproving cluck from Nonna because I usually greeted her first, but this couldn’t wait.
Dad looked up and I gave him my sweetest smile then wrapped my arms around his neck from the side. The doorbell rang.
He leaned back with a deep laugh. “I know that smile, angelo mio.”
“Dad,” I said softly. “You know how much fight training means to me. And Savio finally agreed to help me. He’s going to practice with me after church tomorrow. Please, let me go.”
The bell rang again, then the vacuum was turned off.
“I need Diego in the Capri tomorrow…”
“I know, but Savio was kind enough to agree to pick me up at church and bring me back home after training.”
Dad shook his head. I hugged him tighter and kissed his cheek. “Please, Dad. You know Savio. I’ll do anything. Pleeeaaassseee.”
Diego’s voice rang out.
I turned to Nonna, which was a sign of how desperate I was. “Nonna, please.”
She pursed her lips. “Alone with a boy.” She clucked her tongue.
“I’ll even go back to the church choir like you want me to.”
Nonna tilted her head then gave a small satisfied nod before she turned back to the stew.
The door swung open and Diego stepped in, seething. “Don’t say yes, Dad.”
Dad lifted a finger. “Not in that tone.”
I poked my tongue out at my brother.
Diego gritted his teeth. “You can’t allow her to be alone with Savio.”
“Diego always spends time with Savio. You know how responsible Diego is. He wouldn’t be friends with Savio, if he wasn’t trustworthy.”
Diego gave me a look that promised retaliation, but he
could hardly argue with my reasoning or he’d have to say exactly why Savio was a bad influence and that would mean, he wasn’t allowed to spend time with his best friend either.
“He’s your friend,” Dad said to Diego before he grabbed my chin. “And you, angelo mio, won’t behave in a way that would disappoint your mom or me, right?”
“I just want to become a good fighter.” That, and I wanted Savio to notice me only once.
Diego shook his head and walked over to Nonna to kiss her cheek. “What do you say, Nonna?”
“Gemma wants to return to the church choir.”
I grinned at him and he narrowed his eyes at me. We both knew that Nonna was desperate for me to sing again. Her old-lady friends always asked when the angel-voice would return to the choir.
“Why are you so against Gemma spending time with that Falcone boy?” Nonna asked.
The tips of Diego’s ears turned red. I really wanted to know how he’d managed to stop his face from turning red as well. It was a trick I desperately needed to learn.
“He just doesn’t want to share his friend,” I said.
Dad gently untangled himself from my hold and got up. “I’ll have a talk with Savio before he picks you up.”
“Dad—”
“No,” Dad said firmly, and I snapped my mouth shut, knowing when to retreat. I decided to switch the topic quickly so Dad didn’t reconsider his decision.
“Can Toni come over tonight? I miss her so much.”
“She’s back home?” Mom asked as she stepped into the kitchen.
I nodded. “Came home yesterday.”
Nonna clucked her tongue. “Growing up the way she does, no good will come of that.”
Dad chuckled. “Antonia is a good girl. She can’t help her upbringing.”
Heat washed over me. “Toni’s dad tries to raise her as well as he can.”
“He lets her spend too much time in the Arena. Nothing a girl should see.”
“So, can she come over?”
“Of course,” Dad said.
Nonna frowned, but she wouldn’t argue with Dad, at least not in front of us kids. He was the master of the house. Mom went over to Diego and righted his shirt. He pulled away with a grimace. “Mom, I’m old enough to dress myself.”