Page 17 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

He stopped walking, peering up at me long enough for me to see the start of a smile. It transformed his whole appearance, lighting up his face with a cocky kind of expression. Laughing, he shook his head and resumed walking, clearly having seen enough for the night.

I wouldn’t delve deep and try to understand why his dismissal stung.

“Be careful, you rich, spoiled brat.”

Oh, you asshole! “I’m not a spoiled brat.” Hearing myself deny it actually made me sound like one now. Dammit!

He turned, walking but looking back up at me. “I know your type.”

“Yeah, well I know yours, too.”

“See if I care. I don’t have time for—”

I stood up and crossed my arms. “Good.”

“—a woman who thinks she can always get what she wants.”

“You’re wrong,” I whispered, too quietly for him to hear but aloud so I’d feel the words slipping past my lips.

He was so wrong. Between my father and my soon-to-be fiancé, I wouldn’t ever get anything I wanted. Nothing.

I narrowed my eyes at him, unable to look away as he faced forward to walk down the path leading to the road.

Before he turned, out of sight, I winced at the sudden thought that I wanted him.

Because there was simply no chance in hell of us getting together.

Chapter 7

Luke

The whole day and night had been nonstop with shit to do. I handled pressure well, and at the end of any day, there were highlights and lows that kept my life balanced.

The shittiest thing that aggravated me was Jimmy not bothering to show up at my fight. He said he’d be there, but I didn’t spot him in the crowds. I didn’t need him there for support. My opponent was an easy one to defeat, someone I’d fought before with equal measures of success. I wasn’t a clingy man to lean on my sponsor for a good performance. I had been expecting him, though. I was sick of doing the same old. My potential to make so much more money just sat there, untouched and unused.

As soon as my fight was over, he had the decency to text me, though.

Jimmy: Something came up.

I grunted a laugh at the screen as I checked my phone on the walk home. After seeing Emma up there on the balcony, I wondered why she was up so late. Mild curiosity ate at me. Did she stay at the club? Did she try to bring someone home to the condo?

It wasn’t my business. She was just a wealthy, smartass guest. I shoved her to the back of my mind as I considered Jimmy’s second text.

Jimmy: I’ll meet you at the corner.

I knew which corner. It was where we always met, near a small park space with lots of trees that offered shadows. Backed by a tall building, it was a secretive yet open spot near the apartment I shared my Mom.

I debated showing up though. If he didn’t have the courtesy to come when he said he would, why should I do as he expected?

I had half a mind to tell him to fuck off. That I didn’t need his representation or management when he didn’t show up at fights and refused to advance me in matches.

I can strike out better on my own.

Something nagged at me though, and I headed his way. At least to hear him out. To ask why he was such a fair-weather rep.

“I hear the fight went well,” he said as I approached.

He stood there in the darkness, his lean figure a sharp cut of an outline against the grayness of the brick building he leaned against. I never knew too much about him—where he came from, what his business was. The first time I met him on the streets was when I was a teen. At that initial encounter, I was impressed with his knowledge about fighting and his willingness to train me with what he knew. The only reason he claimed to come up to me was because he saw me dealing with a little bit of violence on the streets, in defense, and he took it upon himself to groom me into one of his fighters.