I laughed, and so did Rocco, who wiped down his head with a towel. “I overheard Chiara speaking to Rosaria. You have to lose to Livio, brother?”
Romeo almost spit out the water he had just drank. “Do not tell me you agreed to this madness?”
“Ah,” Dario said, kissing Diego’s head. The boy slept against his wet shoulder, pouty mouth open, a drop of milk pooled in the corner. He had been around so much noise since the day of his birth that nothing seemed to disturb him. “Hewilllose, in the name of love.”
Donato, who wiped down his own head with a cool towel, glanced at Chiara, who ignored him. The Italian solider had broken off their relationship soon after they had consummated it, but he was still inclined to look at her every few seconds. All in the name of love. A war loomed over us, a black storm cloud building up momentum and boiling over the horizon, and because of the dangers that lurked, Donato felt it was best that he kept his distance from the ballerina. Everyone could see, though, that he regretted the decision every time he thought of it.
Judging by the longing in his eyes, he was reminded of it every other minute.
Chiara still hung around, laughing with the women, sometimes flirting with the men, close to driving him insane. She had her own plans. That was plain to see too. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
As if his insistent thoughts summoned her, she came to us with three notes in her hand, handing one to Rocco, Dario, and then Romeo.
“What is this?” Rocco lifted up the suspicious paper, glancing at his wife, Rosaria.
Dario had already read his note, battling the possible outcome of the situation, apart from the only peaceful solution. Romeo smiled at his paper, too enthralled by the fact that he got one to even care about the outcome of the request.
Romeo slapped Rocco on the shoulder, and his sweat splashed onto my chest. “It seems you must lose, brother.” Romeo wiggled his thick eyebrows. “To prove to your wife that you love her.”
After word got back to my brothers that I had decided to spar with Livio, they each chose one of the younger men to test their skills. The inexperienced stood around Livio, the group huddled together, chatting amongst themselves before their numbers were up.
Rocco snapped off an Italian curse. The relationship with his wife was precarious, at best, so I wasn’t sure if he would even entertain the notion. Apparently he was. For as dangerous as Rocco was, he had romantic notions.
Dario sighed, running a hand over his son’s head. “If we do not find ourselves on the floor at this interval, I suppose we will find ourselves on the floors of our bedrooms. I am to be married soon. I must prove myself to Carmen.”
The three of us, Dario excluded, glanced at Rosaria’s younger sister, Abree. There was history there between her and Dario, history that he had failed to mention to Carmen. Abree continually looked at Dario, who continually ignored her. He hadn’t come clean with Carmen, though, and we all knew it was going to end in a fuckingboomif he didn’t and she found out.
“I have nothing to prove,” Romeo said, smiling. “However, I do not mind being face up, on my back, as long as there will be breasts above me later.”
I squared my shoulders, summoning Livio with a finger. He exchanged looks with his group before nodding. Mitch and Mick had just finished their own rounds—tied for the win. Which was sort of ironic. It always came to a tie between them.
“Ascoltami,” I said to Livio, stretching my neck.Hear me.“You’re going to fight me like a man. Do not be afraid to hit me like you mean it. In this ring, we’re equals, and you’re here to defend yourself.”
“Sì, Signor Fausti,” he said, eyes serious.
We were related, and he still addressed me properly. I shook my head. “No formalities in this room. Brando will do.”
He audibly swallowed the lump in his throat.
“You ready,Uomo?”
He shrugged.Ready or not…
I won the first three rounds and let him take me on the fourth. Making it seem real was a feat in itself. Sweat poured from him as he swung wildly. The stunned look on his face when I took one to the left eye, then dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, almost made me laugh.
He took hisRockymoment with his girl and then gave me his hand, though I had to lift myself to my feet. He staggered with exhaustion and exultation. “No hard feelings, Sig—Brando?” he asked, eyeing me warily, though there was more heat to his stare now.
“None.” I gave him my hand to shake. “We’ll pick this up again next week.”
Some of the fear had gone, but at this, it flashed before it faded with the confidence he had won in the fight.
Livio’s group looked more hopeful; if he had won one, then there was a chance for them to prove themselves too. I patted my brothers on their shoulders, shaking my head and grinning.
Scarlett’s hand came to mine, entwining our fingers. She flicked a look at her dance studio, past the opening of the gym, empty of people.
Once in, I went to open my mouth, to tease her about making me lose, but before I could utter a word, she pinned me against the wall, mouth firm on mine, fingers searching my bare chest, slick with sweat.
She had perfect fingers, lissome but strong, and usually cool. Her nails were painted pink, in deep contrast to the color of my skin. She slid her hands up, feeling the pulse in my neck, over my jaw and cheeks, tangling in my hair. “You taste like salt,” she breathed, and then moaned so loud that the noise reverberated around the hollow studio, inciting me to turn us, so that her back was to the wall.
