Page 3 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

“Or better fights?” Randy asked, looking around and talking low so no one would overhear. Street fighting wasn’t legal, and he knew better than to out me around our boss.

I shook my head, pulling my phone out to show Randy the string of texts I had with Jimmy. Our current argument left us at a standstill, of me asking Jimmy precisely what Randy said. To request more and harder fights.

Jimmy’s reply never changed.

Jimmy: Not yet. You’re not ready yet.

Randy scoffed. “Not ready yet?”

I rolled my eyes. That answer peeved me too, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Unlike my ability to come here and ask Tim for more shifts, I couldn’t take charge of my fighting agenda. Jimmy represented me, and I had to follow his say-so.

“Does he think you can’t take on better fighters?” Randy shook his head.

“I don’t see how he’d get that in his head.” I hadn’t lost a single fight. Ever. “If he’d get me just a couple of matches with the next level up, I wouldn’t have to be here as much. I wouldn’t have to fight as often, either.”

A longer spell between nights in the ring would be nice. Hell, I could actually enjoy some time off to kick back and relax. I could finally celebrate my thirtieth birthday that happened two weeks ago. It’d been a long while since I hooked up with anyone—all I could afford to do because I sure as hell wasn’t in the position to have a wife and kids like my buddy here.

“Maybe he’s right to be cautious.”

I scowled at my friend. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours. But hell, some of those elite fighters might be the kinds of guys you can’t beat.” He shrugged. “It sounds like you’re impatient to ask for more trouble you might not be able to handle.”

A slow, wry grin curved my lips up.

Trouble was all I ever found in life. What was new there?

“I can handle anything that comes my way,” I told him, not cocky but confident.

“Sure you can.” He elbowed me. “We both can. And will. Because this kind of life will chew you up and spit you out if you can’t.”

I straightened, hearing Tim returning to his office. As I pushed my shoulders back and felt a residual twinge of sore muscles, I wondered if Randy was right—if I was already gnawed on and worn out.

Tim chuckled as he saw us. As he sat in his chair, he looked at us one at a time. “Let me guess. You’re here looking for more overtime?”

“Yes,” we replied in unison.

For now.

As soon as I had a break, I’d call Jimmy. Screw his vague concerns about me not being ready. It was time for me to demand better-paying fights so I could get ahead.

Chapter 2

Emma

Bees buzzed further from the roses I paced in front of. They dared to hover closer to me, but I lacked the energy to wave them off. All I could focus on was bottling in my anger and frustration. These insects wouldn’t hurt me. The meeting held inside my father’s house would.

Once again, Damon Giordino thought he could kiss ass and host a lunch with the heads of our biggest rivals, the Marchese. Antonio and Vincent Marchese had been in there with my father for well over two hours, and the length of their discussion served only to chip away at my patience. And my sanity.

But how could any woman claim to be sane when she was arranged to marry a cruel sadist?

Krista’s slight slurps on her straw picked at my frayed nerves more than the bees humming. Cubes clinked against plastic as she fought to get the last drops of her iced coffee. She chilled there, under the shade of a Japanese maple, watching me stride back and forth, over and over again.

“Stop. Please.” I shot her a dirty look, ready to beg my best friend to quit that slurping and clinking. It was torture, wondering when she’d start up again.

She sighed, setting the cup down on the low stone bench she’d claimed as a seat. “I’m just trying to stay cool.”

“We’ll go back to the pool as soon as they’re gone.”