“You got it,” she says. “I’ll lock up behind me.”
Once she’s gone, Dani looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I ignore the look, walking over to the windows and lowering the shades.
“What are you doing?” she says as I lift her out of her seat and lay her across the counter.
I grab the samples and set them next to her. “Picking out a wedding cake.”
35
Daniella
“I’m going to be there.”I cross my arms over my chest.
“Remember how that turned out the last time?” Matteo hisses. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” I argue, refusing to back down.
If he’s going to have a rematch at The Underground, then I’m going to be there. Not only to watch him, but to show that bitch that she can try to take us down, but she won’t win. It’s half the reason why Matteo is doing the fight.
To send her a message.
And I’m not going to be sitting at home while he does it.
“We’re in this together. I was the one taken?—”
“And I’m not fucking risking that again!” he barks.
“I’ll stay with the guards. I won’t leave the VIP area, I promise.”
Matteo pushes out a frustrated sigh. “Little Russo?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to use that card. If I’m old enough for you to fuck and marry and spend your life with, then I’m old enough to be by your side when shit gets tough.”
Another sigh, but this time, he nods. “Okay. But you don’t fucking move from your seat. If I look over and don’t see you?—”
“I won’t go anywhere.”
He pulls me into his arms and crashes his mouth against mine. “I can’t live this life without you, Sweetness. Don’t make me have to.”
“I can’t believehow insane this place is,” I yell at Lorenzo. “First a fire, then a shooting. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson.”
Lorenzo chuckles. “People love living on the edge. The fire was a false alarm, and the shooting only resulted in a few injuries and deaths, mostly the gunmen. People crave this shit.”
“And half of them are betting that something will go down,” Bri adds with a smirk.
We’re surrounded by guards, too many to count, and the entire warehouse has been locked down. Nobody can enter without being checked, and it’s an invite-only event.
The alcohol is flowing, the music is thumping, and once again, bets are being made.
Matteo has spent the last few weeks training his ass off for tonight, and I have no doubt he’s going to win.
At least that’s what I’m thinking until the man he’s fighting against walks out and into the ring. He’s got to be six and a half feet tall, tatted from head to toe, with two hundred fifty pounds of muscle.
“Matteo is fighting him?” I hiss, pointing at the guy who looks more like Shrek—minus the green skin—than a human.
“Yep,” Dominick says.
Peyton is at home with the babies since he refused to let her come tonight. And I get it—if I were a mom, it would be a different story, but I’m not, and Matteo means too much to me for me to stay home. Fighting is his passion, and I’m going to be right here, supporting him.
