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Sofia looked at me for permission.
“Sure,” I said. I knew custom forbade girls from being alone with men, but Sofia was eleven and Danilo had always been a perfect gentleman with me.
Sofia walked back into her room and perched on her plush pink sofa. Danilo followed her inside, leaving the door open. His eyes took in her pink girly room, and I could see how uncomfortable he was. He sank down on the sofa with as much distance between them as the piece of furniture allowed. He looked out of place in the room, like a giant beside her. The contrast couldn’t have been bigger: Sofia in her pink dress with her boisterous nature, and Danilo in his black pants and black dress shirt with his cool demeanor. He had already seemed so much older to me, but in comparison to Sofia?
Not that she seemed to mind. She was peering up at him with so much childish adoration that even my crushed heart sang with joy. I hoped she could hold on to it for a long time. I took a few steps back and gave them a moment of privacy. Two minutes later, Danilo stepped back out. He ran a hand through his dark hair. His eyes met mine, and again I saw the flash of longing and fury.
“And?”
He gave a terse nod. “I think I managed to convince her I said those things to make it easier for you.”
“Good,” I said.
Danilo shook his head, his brows drawing together. “Nothing is good about this situation, Serafina, and I’m surprised that from all of us you are the one who seems to be dealing with it the best.”
I stiffened. “I just want things to return to normal. That’s all.”
He nodded tiredly. “They won’t, but I understand. I need to go now.” He left without another word. I waited until his tall form had disappeared before I stepped into Sofia’s room. “Everything okay?”
She was still sitting on the sofa, staring down at her hands. “I think so,” she said thoughtfully.
“You will be the most beautiful bride, I just know it.”
Her eyes lit up. “You think?”
“I know it.” My chest ached for what I’d lost, for what I could never have, especially not with the man who had my heart.
CHAPTER 22
REMO
Roger’s Arena was packed for my fight as I strode in. Nino followed close behind as we walked toward the booth where Adamo, Savio, Kiara, Leona, and Fabiano were waiting. I was already in my fight shorts, and my body thrummed with barely contained bloodlust.
Roger helped behind the bar for once and gave me a nod in greeting, which I returned. The audience was throwing glances my way, eager, curious, terrified. My fights were always particularly popular—for those who could stomach them. Griffin looked fucking ecstatic as he noted the bets down.
“Who are the unlucky souls you’ll fight?” Savio asked curiously.
“Ask Nino.” I didn’t care who they were. I’d rip them to shreds either way.
“Two ex-cons. Both on the run. Both in desperate need of money and new identities. Out of options,” Nino said matter-of-factly. “One of them kicked his pregnant wife half to death and she lost the baby. Already served a sentence because of manslaughter. The other spent half of his life in jail for child molestation.”
“Sounds like they deserve their death sentence,” Fabiano said with a grin, his arm wrapped around Leona and she smiled up at him in adoration. The sight spiked my fury, and I focused on the cage. “They will wish for the death penalty when I’m done with them.”
The ref called out my name, and I walked through the parting crowd toward the cage and the two dead men waiting for me inside.
The crowd roared and clapped, ecstatic. I swung myself into the cage and assessed my opponents. One of them was taller and broader than me. Maybe I could imagine it was Luca. It would add a nice thrill. The other was short but bull-like, and his stance suggested he was a boxer. Both looked like they knew how to pack a punch. Good.
The moment the fight began, they attacked together. I gripped the short one and rammed my knee into his side but was grabbed from behind by the giant. Short guy scrambled toward me and landed a punch in my stomach. I jerked my head forward and smashed it against his. He staggered and I kicked out against his chest, catapulting myself and the fucker who held me from behind. We crashed into the cage, and I jumped out of Big Guy’s hold. Whirling around, I pushed off the ground and flying-kicked his fucking face, breaking nose, chin, and cheekbone. Blood splattered everywhere, and he fell backward, holding his face. That would keep him busy for a while.
I turned toward Short Guy and smiled. The audience roared. They knew that smile. The look in my opponent’s eyes was familiar: panic and horrified realization. I stalked toward him, and he raised his fists. I feigned an attack, causing him to stumble back. I chuckled. This was going to be fun. I lunged at him, kicking and punching hard without mercy. The cries of the crowd and the fucking whimpers of my opponent spurred me on, but the fucking hollowness in my chest remained. I kicked him over and over again until everything was red. When he didn’t even twitch anymore, I let up.
