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He threw back his head and laughed. “A little girl like you in the ring with me?” He muttered something in Italian and cocked his head. “He’s out, is he? And still will be almost three weeks from now?”
The light of pride that came into his eyes made me step forward until we were toe-to-toe. “Remember those delusions I mentioned? You thinking you got anything but lucky Friday night is one of them. It won’t happen twice. And it won’t happen against me, because I’ll go straight for your balls. Assuming you have some, which I haven’t seen proof of yet.”
His eyebrow arched. “Am I supposed to be frightened?” He gave a mock shudder. “Honey, your boyfriend is the one who calculated and lost. I can’t be bought.”
Before I could dredge up a coherent response—what the hell was he talking about?—he started walking away.
“Wait,” Carly called out.
He stilled, but he didn’t turn back. “What, tesoro?”
Tesoro?
I didn’t know what that meant, but it was probably an insult.
From Carly’s smile, he might as well have presented her with a bouquet of roses. “A real man doesn’t walk away from a lady until she’s done speaking.”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, that would have a lot of effect with Mr. Machismo. I kept right on rolling them until he returned to us.
To Carly, I should say. He came to a halt in front of her and spoke quietly, without any of the conceit he’d employed with me. “What would you like to say?”
She blinked so fast I feared a seizure was imminent. Then she gestured to me. “Not me, my sister. She needs to talk to you.”
“Your sister.” He reached up to touch her hair and thought better of it when I cleared my throat. He let his hand drop. “How can this be?”
“She’s the sweet. I’m the spice,” I said. “Now quit trying to score and focus, loverboy.”
Giovanni didn’t shift his attention from my equally eye-smitten sister. “Why should I? What’s in it for me if I fight you?”
“A date with me,” Carly blurted.
“Sold.”
He didn’t even hesitate. The bastard.
For a second, no one spoke. I didn’t even breathe. Then I snatched Carly’s arm and dragged her against my side. “No way. She’s a minor.”
She shook me off. “For two more weeks. Jesus. Loosen the apron strings.”
“Two and a half weeks.”
“So we will have our date after the fight.” He gave me an innocent look that fooled no one—except maybe my gullible baby sister. “I will be a perfect gentleman.” Then he sneered for my benefit. “Outside of the ring, that is. Inside? You want a fight? I’ll give you one.”
“I’m truly honored.” Asshole.
“A fight like that should attract plenty of attention,” he mused.
“Duh. Why do you think I’m doing it?”
“No damn clue.” He cracked his knuckles, still eyeing me up and down. “But if you choose to pretend you are a man, then I’m happy to oblige you.”
“Oh, you’ll oblige me, will you? I’ll be sure to—”
I broke off when Carly stepped forward and poked a finger in his chest. She was about a foot shorter than he was, but she didn’t shy away from his warning look.
“You, too, tesoro?” he asked, sounding tired.
“Don’t talk to my sister that way. She’s not pretending to be a man. Women fight. Is a man pretending to be a woman if he designs or cooks or creates?”
