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I nod, aware this is a big fucking problem. “And that’s why I want you to keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. Be discreet about it.” I reach inside my jacket pocket and hand her an envelope. “What I owe you from our first lesson, plus cash for tonight.”
“Our first lesson where you hustled me?” she snipes, peeking inside the envelope before sticking it in her purse.
“That one still getting to you?” I tease her, which might be my new favorite thing.
She squares her chin. “Rematch.”
My lips quirk. “I’m happy to watch you take off your clothes any time.”
“It is now my life’s work to get you naked in a game of strip poker,” she says determinedly.
“Kitty Kat, if you want to see me naked, all you have to do is ask,” I tease her again, and she sticks her tongue out at me. Yes, teasing Katerina is my new favorite thing.
“What’s this tattoo?” She runs her red nails along the edge of my ink peeking out of my shirt collar.
“Wouldn't you like to know,” I say nonchalantly, but I find myself gripping the steering wheel tighter than before.
“I do. That’s why I asked,” she says dryly.
I chuckle, but don’t answer.
Katerina drops her hand with a huff. “See, another reason why we’d never work: I know nothing about you, and yet you seem to know everything about me.”
“Haven’t you heard of omertà?” I lock eyes with her before returning my attention to the road.
“I know about the secrecy drill from my cousin. Tell me something about you, not about the family.” She adjusts her dress, and my eyes land on those beautiful long legs of hers that I’ve had wrapped around my head. I’m not just gripping the steering wheel harder, I’m white-knuckling the fucker.
“Quando sono vicino a te riesco a malapena a respirare, figuriamoci a pensare.”
“I don’t speak Italian,” she tells me.
“I said I like to work out,” I lie, snapping my attention back to the road.
“Why do I have a feeling that’s not what you said?” Katerina challenges, and I shrug. “Well, anyone who likes to work out is a sadist,” she informs me.
I pause, debating on how much I want to embarrass myself, before finally admitting, “I used to get my ass kicked a lot when I was younger. Then I met your cousin, and he helped me do something about it.”
Fabio, sixteen-years old
The bell rings, and I already have my backpack on my shoulder and am out the door before anyone else is even up from their desk. Hurrying down the street, I’m hoping to avoid a group of guys who make my high school experience a living hell.
I haven’t made it far, when a hand wraps around my arm, jerking me into the alley.
Fuck, it’s three of them this time.
“What do we have here? Little scaredy cat running home to mama,” one of the guys taunts, circling me as I spin around, trying to keep him in my sight.
“Nah, he’s an orphan, remember?” his buddy pipes up, blocking the exit.
“Trying to duck out, Orphan?” The third guy sneers. “Where’s our money?”
“I don’t have any money!” I try to backpedal, but there’s nowhere for me to go as I bump into the brick wall.
“Then I guess you’re gonna have to pay with your face.” The first guy sucker punches me in the mouth—the impact causing the back of my head to slam into the bricks. My vision becomes spotty, and I groan as the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “Your face is like a fucking disgusting pepperoni pizza, I’m grossed out by even touching it,” he taunts me about my cystic acne.
I know what I’m about to do is a bad idea, but I gather the blood in my mouth and spit in his face.
“You’re fucking dead!” he bellows, and all three of them descend on me like a pack of rabid wolves. I try to protect my face as best I can as I fall to the pavement, my kidneys and other internal organs getting the brunt of their fists and feet.
