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He released a breath and pulled out of me, then rolled onto his back. Sprawled there¸ he stared up at the ceiling. “Giovanni said there’s a price on your head now. After you hit Lorenzo, they decided they wanted you dead.”
A laugh bubbled out of my chest. Surely, the punchline to this joke was coming soon. “What?”
He didn’t laugh. He also didn’t look at me. “I think they’re organized crime, baby. That’s all I can figure. Giovanni wouldn’t spell it out for me, but add a few things together, and it fits.”
Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes. “Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah. You can say that again.”
“So they want me dead, but first they want me to fight?”
“According to Gio, he said if you fight, all will be forgiven.”
I didn’t laugh again, but it was a close thing. “Right. Because that’s all it takes to erase a death-worthy debt. A few traded punches, all good now.”
“Giovanni assured me—”
“Giovanni sure is telling you a lot. Especially since he’s the one who got us into this situation in the first place.” I sat up and shoved my hands through my sex-tousled hair. Pretty soon it’d be tousled for another reason altogether.
I wasn’t scared, exactly. Death threats didn’t affect me the same way they did most people. I’d courted death for a long time, inviting it with a smile.
It just had taken a while to show up, like the last guest to a party that was almost over.
“I thought the same thing, until I retraced my steps. I was the one who went to the gym when I should’ve gone off alone and gotten my head straight. I sure as hell shouldn’t have gone to a strip club with a guy I don’t even like when I’m sober. And I definitely shouldn’t have let you come get me, like some dumbass drunk who can’t even get himself home.”
“You’re right. It’s all your fault.”
He hooked his arm around my waist and dragged me against his chest. “You know how to make a man feel better,” he said gruffly, brushing a kiss over my forehead just the same.
From within the circle of his arms, I smiled up at him. “I figure you’re already making yourself feel bad enough. Why should I miss out on a chance to throw some shit on the pile?”
“Mia logic.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I pressed a kiss against his jaw. “I’m hungry. Good thing this room has a microwave, because I think that steak could use a reheat.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, maybe the beans too. Not sure about the potato. I think the butter might—”
“Mia.” He cupped my chin, tipped it upward. “They want you to fight. One fight, with a female competitor. That’s why I didn’t want you to start meds this week. When you don’t know how they’ll affect you, you can’t take the chance.”
“If I fight. You acted like I could say no.” But I wouldn’t. Not because those rich thugs were trying to scare me into doing their bidding, and not because I truly believed I’d escape from their supposed death threat if I did.
I would fight, because I needed to. Just having the possibility dangled in front of me eased the storm in my mind in a way nothing else had done for months.
This would give me my focus back. When I was training hard, nothing else intruded. Not stalkers, not bastards in three-thousand-dollar suits, not my Aunt Patty taking money I didn’t even know if I wanted.
In the octagon, I had one goal. To win.
“You could say no.” His voice grew cool. “If someone else took your place.”
I stared up at him.
“Look, they said they wanted a female fight, that that’s the big thing now. But I know what would be as big or bigger. I could fight Gio. A rematch for last winter.” He framed my face in his hands. “A lot of people want to see that fight. And he’d do it, I know he would, if only to try to take another piece of me—”
“No.”
“Hear me out.”
