Oleg climbs back into the ring, glaring daggers at Erik. “Durak,” he mutters, giving Erik a not-so-gentle shove.
“Alright, alright, chill,” Erik laughs, stepping back, his gaze slipping back to me, still amused but suddenly more focused. He leans against the ropes, looking at me, his grin shifting into something almost… curious. “Speaking of cheating… How’s that new role treating you, D?”
“What role?” I grunt, even though I know exactly what he’s getting at.
He tilts his head, gray eyes twinkling with that dangerous mix of curiosity and amusement. “Papa Dimitri,” he says, “Three months in, and look at you. Chewing gum instead of breaking bones. Soft, but in a cuddly bear way.”
“Fuck off, Erik.”
He laughs, that irritating cackle that only Erik can pull off. “Yeah, yeah, but seriously—look at you. No fights, no chaos. Riding horses with your boy instead of smashing heads in. You’re going soft, man. Next thing I know, you’ll be putting John in a nursing home.”
I chew the gum harder, the bitterness almost comforting. He isn’t wrong. Wren agreed to send the old man to rehab—he can’t walk without the chair now, so at least that’s one less thing to worry about. The bastard’s getting clean.Maybe.
“Actually, this wholepapathing… isn’t too bad,” I say, the hint of a smirk forming as I push myself up from my seat. “You should try it yourself sometime.” I crack my knuckles, the sound echoing in the gym. “Oh yeah, I forgot—you have a runaway bride.” I toss the words over my shoulders.
Thesukajust flashes me a smile, like he’s unfazed by my insults. Hair perfect, teeth gleaming, he steps out of the ring like he’s stepping into a goddamn ballroom.
I spit the gum into the bin next to me, my jaw aching from all the grinding. Erik peels off his gloves, mouthpiece clinking as he tosses it onto the bench. He reaches for a water bottle, takes a long gulp, and wipes his mouth on his arm like he’s been for a casual afternoon stroll.
“Yeah, and when I find her,” he starts, looking right at me with that cocky grin that makes me want to throw something at his head. “She’ll get herpunishment.Lucia di Fuoco.” He pauses, letting her name hang in the air. “Little runaway heir of the Angeli di Fuoco crime family.”
I snort. “Yeah, I remember. Didn’t think you’d still be obsessed with her.”
Erik’s expression shifts, eyes darkening as he looks down for a beat, then back up at me. “Because no one runs away from my proposal,” he says. A bead of sweat slides down from his temple, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, that damn smirk already forming again. “Besides.Why not? She’s the last one standing for the Angeli di Fuoco. Chicago outfit. Big legacy, lots of enemies. Daddy’s dead, thanks to Uncle Aleks.”
Lucia di Fuoco, I remember her name. A jewelry designer. Thirty-four this year. Living her life without the blood, without the noise. But Erik’s not gonna let that last. He’ll drag her right back into the fire. No doubt.
“And you’re gonna make her your wife?” I snort. “What? You planning on wearing suits and going to jewelry expos next, Erik?”
Erik barks out a laugh, stepping closer, leaning into the ropes. “Nah, D. More like dragging her back by her hair, reminding her exactly what her last name means.” He winks, that twistedhumor in his eyes. “Then maybe I’ll put a ring on it if she’s lucky. But first, she’s got a lot to make up for.”
Typical Erik.
Never letting anyone see past that wall of his. He’s serious, though—I know it. He’s not just talking. He’ll find her, and she’s gonna learn what kind of man Erik Volkov really is. She’s no princess, not anymore. Not with him.
I shake my head, spotting Oleg stepping out of the shower, his glare still fixed on Erik. I nod at him, then wave Erik off with a flick of my wrist.
“You want a round, too?” Erik throws me a smirk, leaning back, his hair still perfect, not a bead of sweat on him. “I promise I’ll go slow.”
I snort, standing up. “Not today,brat. Got more important things to do.”
Like keeping a promise to a little boy who means more to me than this damn ring.
86
Dimitri
Istep out of the mansion, the roar of my motorbike breaking the quiet of the morning. The compound stretches out ahead of me, green and sprawling, but I keep my eyes on the path to the ranch.
The bike growls under me as I twist the throttle, taking off toward the other side of the estate. It’s not far, but the kid loves the ride.
I catch sight ofthem.
Ofher.
Chert, what the fuck is wrong with me?
My heart is beating like crazy; feels like it’s gonna explode out of my chest.
