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“Fuck that, you knew I was out there, watching. I don’t know how you knew, but you did. We were interrupted, but there’s no one to stop us right now.”
I put up my hands and wiggled my fingers at him. “You want me? Here I am. So come on,” I taunted.
“I fucking hate you. I hate every fucking Lupu, but I especially hate you,” he spat out as he stood from the tall stool, thrusting it back and letting it crash to the floor. “The minute she stepped through the door of my father’s house, I knew you’d come running after her. Of course, I goddamn knew you were out there, and I took pleasure in torturing you. Payback for the shit you did to me and my family because you know what this is ultimately about.”
Oh, I knew. With a Popescu, it was always about revenge.
“Simu. This is about Simu.”
“Damn right, it’s about my consilier. Did you actually think I would let it go? You somehow convinced everyone, including my father, that it was a clean kill, but I know better. Simu was too smart and ambitious to get caught in your trap. He had big dreams. Sometimes, he was bigger than his britches, but if he had to be handled, it was for me to do it.” He slammed his fist in his chest. “Me. Not a pussy outsider like you. Most certainly not a bastard Lupu,” he spat out.
Rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, he circled me and said, “It’d be my goddamn pleasure to beat your ass.”
“Fuck, when will you ever learn, you Popescu pig?” I asked in exasperation. “Why is it so difficult to believe that he went after my brother over Cat? He was jealous. He attacked Luca. That couldn’t be tolerated.”
He swung at me, but I ducked him easily.
“Why, you ask? You say he was jealous, but I don’t believe you. He wasn’t in love with my sister. He found her useful, but he didn’t love her.” He took another swipe, but I deflected it with my palm and moved off.
“And that’s the kind of man you chose for Cat? You knew he didn’t love her, but you were willing to marry her off to him?”
Following me, he hissed, “Please, motherfucker, don’t act high and holy. She was going to marry you and you didn’t love her. At least, he’d have respected her more than you ever could. At least, I’d have controlled him and made sure he treated her right. Unlike you.”
Another hit came my way. This one, I blocked and threw a light punch of my own, giving him a little taste of what was to come.
“And when he killed you and took over, as he planned to do? What then?”
Taking the hit on his chin, he retorted, “That was never going to happen. What kind of idiot do you take me for? Don’t you know to keep your enemies close? Oh, wait. No, you don’t. Because you’re an idiot of a Lupu.”
Done playing around, I charged him, shoulder hitting his abdomen. I rammed him backward into the wall with a hard thump, a fine dust of plaster bursting around the outline of his body. With him wedged between the wall and my shoulder, I slammed into his solar plexus. He wheezed out and hissed.
Stepping back, I threw an uppercut, catching him in the chin again. His skull bounced back against the wall. Probably seeing stars, he shook his head. I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.
His eyes narrowed on me, and he attacked, swinging right, then left, like a machine. He beat me back, clipping me here and there despite me shielding my head with my arms. Pain sliced through me as his fist connected with my ribs. The punches kept coming, pushing me back until my spine hit a column. But this wasn’t like the time at his house. There was no one to stop us. We were going to do this until one of us was unconscious, so I was taking my punches, letting him wear himself out.
Cristo’s eyes were aflame with unadulterated hatred, likely matching the hatred in mine. I welcomed his hate. I reveled in it.
He threw another jab at the same spot on my ribs, and I swore I heard them crack. Fuck, that shit hurt. I grunted and eyed him through my arms, swinging until I bashed him in the temple. My fist skimmed past his brow, busting it open.
“Fuck!” he bellowed. Blood gushed from the cut, spilling on both of us.
Got him. Fucker.
He stumbled back a few steps, and I pressed my advantage. He was heaving out harsh breaths, tired from the wasted punches he threw at me. I drove him back, whipping him with punch after punch. I brought my knee up a couple of times, getting him in the gut. Cristo wasn’t one to go down easily, though.
We took turns, attacking and retreating. At one point, we were hugging each other as we caught our breaths. Sweat poured down the center of my back. Blood in my eye clouded my vision. I swiped at it, attempting to remove it, red streaking the white of my sleeve. Wheezing and grunting, we twirled each other around, struggling to unbalance the other and gain leverage in our twisted dance.
Finally, after what felt like hours, but was probably less than half of one, he tired. We broke apart and circled each other again. Getting into position, I pivoted my back foot and made sure I had the right amount of weight on it, giving me power to launch my fist forward. Relaxing my whole body, I exhaled tightly. Lifting and extending my right elbow, I swung just as Cristo turned his head slightly. I clipped him behind the ear, a vulnerable area of vital nerves. He stumbled back, swaying on his feet, dizzy. I finished him off with one more kill shot, and he went down like a lead balloon.
I staggered back, my head swimming after the hits I’d sustained. The sycophants rushed around Cristo, pulling him up and smacking him lightly on the cheek while Tatum looped my arm around his neck and dragged me out of there. Blood dripping from my mouth, I grinned like a loon and let him haul me out of the club.
