Page 255 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

TEN

“You fucking asshole!”

Andino looked up from the papers on his desk, and narrowly missed John’s oncoming fist by ducking. “Shit.”

It didn’t make a difference. John landed a punch to his cousin’s jaw on the second swing, anyway.

The hit connected hard enough to send Andino’s head flying to the side. John was already bracing for the impact that was sure to come back at him. Andino didn’t disappoint. His cousin pushed out of the chair faster than he could blink, and came at him.

John was quick enough to duck the first swing Andino aimed for his head, but forgot that his cousin was a south paw, and sneaky as fuck. Ducking like he did only gave Andino the chance to land a hard punch against John’s fucking kidney.

Jesus Christ.

That hurt.

Andino shoved John into the office door. John went right back for more. He shoved Andino hard, too, knocking his cousin into the chair, and desk. Not that it kept Andino down, or anything. He came right back for more, too.

So was their way.

Soon, the two cousins were pounding fists into one another on the floor of Andino’s office, while the employees in the kitchen worked on like nothing was happening. Just another day working for Andino Marcello, apparently.

This wasn’t the first time the two had gone to blows over something, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, this was just how they dealt with any kind of shit between them, but this time, it was different for John.

He was pissed.

Really fucking pissed off.

Where in previous fights he would make sure to keep his punches clean, and not hit Andino somewhere it would do lasting damage—like his face—John just didn’t care. He needed to get some of his goddamn anger out, and since Andino had been the cause of that anger in the first damn place, here they were.

It didn’t take long before Andino figured out John was not going to calm, or back down. He tried holding John down, but that didn’t do anything for either of them. Andino got his own hits thrown in, too, but John barely felt them at all.

Maybe after the third or so punch John landed to Andino’s head did the trick—he didn’t really know what it was—but his cousin figured out this was not like every other time they went to blows.

Either way, Andino pulled back, and rolled away from John. He laid to his back on the floor, and stared up at the ceiling. It took all the willpower John had not to roll over, and start fucking up the man again.

Outside the office, dishes clattered. Footsteps echoed just beyond their space as the employees continued to work.

It would be comical.

If it wasn’t so fucking sad.

“So fucking lucky Snaps wasn’t here today,” Andino snarled under his breath.

John let out a hard exhale, and scrubbed his now-sore hands down his face. “Where is he?”

“Haven took him to the spa.”

Side-eyeing his cousin, he said, “The fucking spa.”

“He likes it, okay. They rub him down, bathe him, and give him treats. It’s their thing—she takes him once a week.”

“He goes to the spa once a week. Are you serious? He’s a dog.”

“A dog that would have ripped your face off for this bullshit.”

Fair enough.

“Fuck,” Andino muttered, touching the spot above his eyebrow with his fingertips. “I think you cracked something in my face.”