by Cora Reilly
A knock sounded and Mom poked her head in, taking in my outfit. I had insisted to choose what I wore today. I knew I’d be the center of attention, even if it wasn’t a public fight in the Arena. Only other Camorrista and the involved families were allowed to attend.
I’d chosen a dress because even on a day like this, jeans wouldn’t fly with Mom or Dad, but it was the least modest I owned, hugging my waist and chest, but ending in a flowing skirt that reached my knees. I’d even straightened my natural curls, only to turn them into more controlled, shiny curls with my curling iron.
“You look beautiful, love,” Mom said as she walked in and hugged me. “Two men fighting over you, it’s something else…”
I laughed dryly. “Yeah.”
If word got out, and word would get out at some point, the stares in school would increase tenfold.
“Just promise me to keep an open mind for either outcome.”
Mom didn’t know anything about fighting, or Savio. There was only one realistic outcome. I nodded anyway.
“We need to go,” Dad called.
Mom kissed my cheek. “Have fun.”
“You’re not coming?”
She touched her belly with an apologetic smile. “You know how queasy I get with blood, and the hormones only make it worse.”
“Gemma! We’re going to be late!” Diego shouted.
I kissed Mom’s cheek, grabbed my purse and rushed downstairs where Dad, Diego, and Nonna were waiting for me. Surprise shot through me.
“Don’t look so shocked, bambina,” Nonna said with a rough laugh. She’d been smoking in secret ever since Grandpa’s death and it was unmistakable.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” I asked.
“Your nonna is made of steel,” Dad said, touching her shoulder.
Diego and Dad sat in the front, while Nonna and I shared the backseat. She took my hand during the drive. I knew she probably favored Mick because his family was more traditional, but I was glad for her support.
Roger’s Arena was more crowded than I’d thought it’d be. Dozens of eyes followed me as my family and I headed for one of the booths close to the fighting cage.
Toni hurried our way, smiling. She pulled me into a tight embrace. “You look like you want to run,” she whispered before she released me.
Part of me wanted to run away, but the other, bigger part longed to see Savio’s fight.
“Do you have to work?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Dad hired two new waitresses, so I can watch the fight with you.” She turned to my family. “Hello, Mrs. Bazzoli, Daniele, Diego.” Her eyes halted on my brother and for once, he didn’t look like she was a fly he wanted to swat away. Toni was eye-catching with her long straight brown hair and those huge brown eyes, not to mention her tall, willowy model figure.
We all slipped into the booth.
Remo stepped out of the changing room and silence fell over the bar. “The fight begins in five minutes.” He didn’t say more, didn’t explain, only briefly nodded toward my father then toward Mick’s family who sat on the other side of the Arena.
Mick was the first who came out of the changing room. I’d never seen him in anything but street clothes. Now he wore only fighting shorts and flip-flops. Maybe he was worried about touching the floor with his bare feet. He wasn’t very tanned, his Italian heritage definitely less prominent than with me, and tall and lanky with only the hint of lean muscle. A small scar marred his left arm and the Camorra tattoo flashed on his other. His eyes found me.
I didn’t look away. I owed him that much, but I couldn’t bring myself to give him more than a small smile. Everyone was watching. I could feel the force of their gazes on my skin, making it itch.
Then everything faded into the background because the door to the changing room opened again.
Savio prowled out of it. He oozed confidence and lethal determination. My eyes took him in, every inch of his body. One look at him and everyone knew there could be only one winner tonight: Savio Falcone.
He was tanned, tall, but not in a lanky way. Savio was well-proportioned male-perfection. He was pure muscle. Not in the bulky way of some bodybuilders whose muscles made them immobile. Savio’s muscle were of the agile, functional kind, meant to make him strong and fast, lethal and attractive.
Scars littered his chest and arms, marks of a struggle for power, and the absolute will to defend it. They adorned his body like battle trophies, which he proudly presented to the world. Only two scars were covered up by the inked artwork his brother had created: the cuts on his wrists.
My gaze lingered on the tips of horns peeking out of his waistband, marking the very edge of his delicious V. I felt the unreasonable urge to tug his shorts lower to see more of that infamous bull.
Savio climbed into the cage without deigning me with a single look, but then before he faced Mick, his dark eyes hit me.
He was sure of his victory, sure of his prize: me.
He was willing to fight for me, to bleed for me. For that fact alone, I already belonged to him.
Gemma’s lips were slightly parted as she stared back at me. Her lips were pouty without ever having seen a single hyaluronic needle. For a long time, I’d tried to not look at her too closely. She’d been too young—was still too young—and she was Diego’s sister, but her gorgeousness was impossible to miss now. Not to mention that this girl could kick ass. She didn’t cry when she suffered a hard hit. She only wanted to improve.
She was going to be mine. She already was.
I turned to Mick who stood with his arms crossed and a grim expression, trying to appear unaffected. Tilting my head, I scanned him. Crossing arms was a good way to hide anxiety-induced shaking. Remo closed the door of the cage with a clang and the slightest flinch passed Mick’s body.
He worked out with me and Diego on occasion, but he preferred the boxing bag to sparring. Problem was, the boxing bag never hit you back. You could only improve if you paid for a wrong move or lack of attention with a punch and the resulting pain.
I considered taunting him like I usually did with my opponents before a fight to rile them up, but eventually, I settled on a nod.
“Fight until surrender!” Remo announced, then. “Go!”
I raised my fists and Mick quickly did the same.
He was trying to put up a decent fight. I had to give it to him. I didn’t go as hard on him as I did with my other opponents. He didn’t get through my defenses and every time his punch or kick met my resistance, my own counterstrike landed painfully. Frustration flashed across his face followed by embarrassment when the crowd called for me to finish it. It being him.
“I kissed Gemma before you,” he hissed. For a moment, my blinding fury distracted me, but my forearms moved up in time to block his angry shove. What kind of fucking move was that supposed to be? Kindergarteners shoved each other. My back collided with the cage and I used the momentum to push my body off and do a high kick against his chest, done with playing nice. My foot smashed against his sternum.
The air whooshed out of him and he hit the ground like a brick, chest heaving, face turning red as he was trying to breathe.
I straddled him, gripped his throat and got into his face. “How about you tell the fucking truth now, Mick? Gemma would have never kissed you, unless you forced a kiss on her, so either you molested her, or you’re a liar. What is it?”
I loosened my hold on his throat so he could speak.
“I lied.”
“Fuck you,” I growled. “Now surrender.”
He hit the ground with his flat palm, and I released him then straightened. Standing over him, I shook my head, disgusted. He’d given up too quickly. He’d tried to play dirty, which I could have dealt with if he hadn’t dragged Gemma into it.
Mick stayed flat on his back, his eyes closed.
Applause rose in the Arena and Remo appeared beside me. He grabbed my arm, raising it above my head.
My eyes sought Gemma. She was standing j
ust like the rest of the spectators. Her eyes were huge, her face flushed with excitement. I’d won many fights, but this was definitely the best victory yet. Everyone looking her way could see that this was the outcome she’d wished for. Our eyes met and she controlled her expression—too late.
One corner of my mouth twitched up. My girl.
Remo released my arm, bringing my attention back into the cage. Mick was sitting up slowly, obviously still struggling to breathe from my kick. I held out my hand for him to take so I could pull him up. He pushed my hand away. I took a step back, sneering. Did he really think this behavior was earning him any bonus points in front of fellow Camorrista?
Remo extended his hand and Mick took that one, then he turned back to me. His lower lip was burst. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I thought we were friends. Guess I was wrong.”
“You wanted the wrong girl, Mick. That’s all. Get over it and we can be friends.”
“You didn’t want her for so long that her family arranged a marriage with me. Gemma would be better off with me. You can’t keep it in your pants, Savio.”
“If you want to continue this argument, do it in the changing room,” Remo ordered.
Mick nodded and climbed out of the cage then hurried toward the changing rooms. Remo clapped my shoulder, but his eyes held warning. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’ll still want it in a few years because this is until death do us part.”
I answered his twisted grin with my own. “I’m a grown man, Remo. Gemma is and will be mine till the bitter end.”
“I’m not worried about her being yours. No one with half a brain will touch a Falcone woman. But she might want you to be hers too, remember that.”
My heart pounded in my chest, watching the fight, as if I was the one in the cage. Every muscle in my body taut with anticipation, with breathless expectation and almost delirious hope.
I had to admit seeing Savio fight for me was more thrilling than I’d ever admit aloud. It was primal and brutal, and incredibly sexy. I’d seen Savio fight Diego often enough to tell that he could have sent Mick to the floor within the first ten seconds, but he didn’t want to embarrass him completely.
Until suddenly fury distorted Savio’s expression and he sent Mick to the floor with an amazing kick against the chest. The crowd let out a simultaneous gasp at the sound of the body’s impact. I jerked to my feet like everyone around me, my pulse galloping wildly.
“Ouch,” Toni groaned. “You’re crushing my hand.”
I released her. I hadn’t even realized I was clutching her hand in a death grip. “Sorry,” I whispered, never taking my eyes off the cage where Savio was straddling Mick and holding him by the throat. Come on, surrender, Mick. Do yourself the favor of ending this, and do me the favor.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mick hammered his hand against the floor, signaling surrender. I released a harsh breath.
Toni kissed my cheek. “You get your dream boy.”
Savio was mine. After all the years of fawning over him from afar, he was finally mine.
Noticing Diego’s gaze, I turned to him. He wasn’t smiling.
His negativity would only ruin the moment, so I turned away and was met with Savio’s intense stare.
He stood in the cage, covered in sweat and Mick’s blood, because I hadn’t seen Mick land a single direct hit, staring at me. Without saying a word, without his ring on my finger, without an official engagement that look alone claimed me as his.
My stomach warmed and my core tightened in a way it never had, with a want that stunned and terrified me.
Finally, he looked away, setting me free.
“I need to catch some fresh air,” I said in a rush. In truth, I only needed a moment to myself so I could really let the situation sink in. It still felt too surreal to be true. Too good.
“I’ll come with you,” Diego said at once.
I shook my head, seeking Toni’s gaze. “I can go. And we’re only in the backyard, so nothing’s going to happen.”
Diego exchanged a look with Dad. Then he stood. “I’m coming.”
Dad pushed to his feet as well. “I’ll have a talk with Remo and later with Savio.”
I nodded, only half-listening. For some reason, I suddenly felt as if I couldn’t breathe. Diego put a hand on my back and gently nudged me forward. I lightly leaned against him, not even sure why. People were watching me. I wasn’t sure where Savio was and I was almost relieved that I wasn’t caught up in his stare as well.
With Diego at my side, we pushed through the drinking and talking Camorrista quickly until we reached the door behind the bar and then the deserted corridor. Commotion came from the kitchen and I walked farther down to an even quieter spot. There I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. So much had happened these last few days. It was mind-boggling.
Diego leaned right beside me, staring down at me with quiet scrutiny. “I thought you’d be happy.”
I was happy, ridiculously happy, and yet, I couldn’t really give in to that light-hearted feeling. Maybe because after all these years and after thinking it wouldn’t happen, I finally had what I wanted all along. I would marry Savio.
The promise that silly ten-year-old Gemma had given herself, it was going to become reality. “Are you?” I asked Diego instead of answering his question.
He frowned. “Happy?”
“Yeah.”
I tilted my head to the side, my temple against the cool wall, and studied my brother. For as long as I could remember, he’d protected me, mostly from non-existing dangers, but still. Strangely enough, I wanted his approval, wanted him to be happy for me.
“Can’t say that I am.”
“Why? Because you’re worried I’ll take Savio from you?” I didn’t think it was that.
Diego snorted. “We’re not attached to the hip. You make it sound like we’re in some kind of twisted bromance.”
I laughed. “You spent a lot of time together. You used to.”
A hint of regret passed Diego’s face. “It pissed me off how he chased one girl after the other, especially because I knew you wanted him to ask for your hand.”
“You were angry because of me.”
“Of course, Gemma, what do you think?” He shook his head. “And the reason why I’m not happy is because I don’t think Savio deserves you. Not the way he’s been acting and certainly will keep acting until you’re married and maybe even…” He trailed off.
“He’ll have to change his ways now that we’re engaged.”
Diego sighed and touched the top of my head. “I doubt that’s going to happen.”
The door to the bar swung open and Savio stepped into the corridor, still only in his fight shorts and barefoot. He stalked toward us, causing Diego to straighten and narrow his eyes in full protector mode.
The butterflies in my belly fluttered wildly when Savio stopped beside me.
“Give us a moment,” Savio said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Back off, Diego. I talked to your dad. He wants a word with you and Remo.”
Diego stepped very close to Savio. “I warn you. You won the fight and my sister’s hand, but that doesn’t entitle you to anything else. She’s sixteen and not your wife.”
“I’ll behave,” Savio said.
Diego gave me a questioning look. Maybe I should have asked him to stay, but I wanted a moment alone with Savio, no matter how it might make me look. Before he left, Diego leaned down to my ear, whispering. “Savio is a sweet talker. Don’t forget our values.”
He straightened and strode away, banging the door with more force than necessary.
“Let me guess, he warned you off my deviant ways?”
My eyes lingered on his arrogant smile, and sweet talker or not, I could have danced from joy over becoming his wife.
I quickly turned my back to him, clearing my throat. “People might wonder what we’re doing here all alone. I should probably return to my famil
y.” My voice was embarrassingly breathless, a nervous flutter my vocal cords only produced when Savio was around. I didn’t want him to know how happy his victory made me, but my body made hiding my emotions near impossible. His ego certainly didn’t need another boost.
“Now you’re mine, Kitty.” Heat radiated off his body, covered my back in a delicious cocoon as his shadow fell over me. The scent of manly sweat mingled with blood and Savio’s very own enticing aroma. His hot breath dusted my bare shoulder blade as he leaned down. “Every inch of that beautiful skin.” He pressed a light kiss to my shoulder, catching me off guard. Instead of telling him off, my body flushed with heat and the familiar butterflies that only Savio could create fluttered in my belly. Maybe this kiss was the reason why Mom usually insisted that I wore sleeved dresses.
Savio gripped my hips and turned me around to him. “Won’t you congratulate me? After all, I won you.”
You had me all along.
I stared stubbornly at his naked chest, at the display of muscle there, at the blood and sweat making him look like a warrior straight out of my darkest fantasies.
Savio nudged my chin up. My cheeks were burning because, damn him, I could have jumped him right then. Our eyes met and he let out a harsh breath. He bent down, his expression so full of possessiveness that I shivered again. Savio shook his head. “If you keep looking at me like that, waiting until marriage isn’t going to happen, Gem.”
I licked my dry lips, and his eyes became even darker. He cupped the side of my head. “I know you want your first kiss to happen in church,” he rasped, his lips brushing my cheek then the corner of my mouth before he moved down to my throat and pressed a firm kiss to my skin. My body leaned into the touch, unable to resist. His words registered, but their importance was momentarily lost on me, feeling him so close, his lips against my skin. It wasn’t me who pulled away.
Savio straightened, shaking his head as if he was trying to get rid of a spell. “Kitty, you make sweet sixteen very difficult to resist.”