Page 145 of Alessio

It wouldn’t be over.

He would not be okay.

And that’s why, when the trip to Quebec didn’t work, he made his way back to Vegas, to sleep in a familiar bed that still smelled like one of the people who still held a piece of his soul and heart in their hands. To walk familiar halls he once walked with Alessio; to focus on anything except the ache in his heart.

Not that it helped.

His mood became worse.

Hence, Cree inviting him for a sparring round in the ring that morning. Had Corrado been a smarter man—apparently, he wasn’t today—he would have refused the offer. Anyone with any brains understood sparring with Cree was pointless because he either beat the shit out of someone, or he nearly did so. Besides, this was him substituting one pain for another.

“Fuck,” he hissed, ducking back to miss a punch Cree threw his way. “If you don’tbreak one of my bones, that would be great.”

“Or get quicker.” Cree bounced on the balls of his feet as he said that, fists already up and ready to go with Corrado again. He carefully measured every single move he made, and never without an intentional impact when he fought. It made Cree one of the more difficult opponents in a match. “Besides, if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have gotten up here today, right?”

Well, he had a point.

Not that Corrado would admit it.

“Fuck you,” he muttered.

Cree raised a brow. “Your mood is about as bad as Alessio’s this morning when I saw him.”

What?

The word rang so loudly in his mind that everything else around him came to a standstill, including his desire to defend himself against Cree’s oncoming attack. Corrado froze—like a fucking cafone.

Cree, never one to miss out on an opportunity, used the chance to swing back with a roundhouse. The kick landed hard against Corrado’s ribcage and sent him flying back to the mat with enough force to take the air right out of his lungs.

Pain bloomed in three of his ribs as he sucked in a gulp of air, and stared at the ceiling of the complex’s gym, trying to let his mind catch up to what he learned. Cree said when I saw him and this morning. Meaning, Alessio had to be back in the country, but not just back … no, here. In Vegas.

And he hadn’t told him? Didn’t come to the penthouse?

“What?” Corrado asked, still looking like an idiot on his back.

Cree’s figure came into his view when he moved to stand next to Corrado’s prone form. “He got back this morning—job finished two days ago.”

“Well, where the fuck is he now?”

“Doing something he wants to do, I imagine. You know how he is.”

Very well.

And whenever Alessio came home, he came back to Corrado. So, what was different this time? Hadn’t the last week, and a half been bad enough for him dealing with the Ginevra thing alone while Alessio had to go out of the country?

“You look confused,” Cree murmured.

“I’m fine.”

Corrado wouldn’t let them see his pain.

Cree kneeled down next to Corrado on the mat and rested his arms along his bent knees as he spoke. He didn’t look at Corrado, and yet it still seemed like the man stared into his mind even so. “There was a time, and I still think it’s possible—if I cared to try, which I don’t—when I believed I would beat the pride out of you. It’s something you couldn’t get rid of, and it still holds you back in your life when it shouldn’t. Alessio has accepted it is a flaw in your character he has to love like the rest of you. So, where I want to fix it, he will work around it.”

Corrado’s brow dipped. “What?”

And damn, his ribs ached now.

Fucking Cree.