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I laid my hand palm up on the desk. Ginevra wrapped her fingers around mine, and I squeezed her tight. “Trust me to take care of it?”
She nodded.
Keri grinned. “I’ll let the guys know. They’ll be fuckin’ thrilled.”
Ginevra furrowed her brow. “What are you going to do?”
“Trust me, baby. You’ll see.” I winked.
Ginevraand I entered the arena like royalty, my arm around her waist, the cheers and the shouts of the crowd enveloping us. When I clasped Ginevra’s hand in mine and raised our linked hands above our heads, the crowd roared. The clamor continued until we reached our seats, comfortable padded chairs at the front of the arena, right up against the ropes, so close to the fighters that we could catch splatters of blood and sweat. Two rows of seats curved up behind us, and beyond that, it was standing room only.
The crowd was well-dressed, as if ready for a cocktail party, not a brutal, bloody underground fight. Waitresses in short skirts and bikini tops circulated, serving drinks and selling cigars to the mostly male crowd.
Cormac and Rian waited for us, two empty seats between them, sprawled out like young gods in their suits, nursing glasses of expensive whisky. Young men in suits sat behind and beside them, double the usual security detail. Normally, I wouldn’t be so obvious about it, but I wasn’t messing around with our girl’s safety.
One of the waitresses made her way to us. She offered me my customary bottle, and one tumbler. I handed it to Ginevra, and poured her two fingers of the caramel colored liquid before turning back to the girl.
“Where’s my glass?” I snarled.
Her eyes widened. Oh, she hadn’t meant to insult Ginevra? She just assumed mywifewas like every other girl in this hall?
My voice was low and mean. “Ginevra Russo is my fucking wife and you will treat her with the same respect you do Cormac, Rian, and I, do you understand?”
Ginevra stepped beside me and ran her finger down my arm, arresting my attention. “Easy there, love,” she said, using the same phrase we used to settle her when we were fucking her. “She couldn’t have known.”
Cormac growled from where he sat, a lion with his eyes focused on prey trembling before him. “Laila did know, though, didn’t she?”
The girl, Laila, stood before us in her tiny pleather skirt and black bikini top, looking like a scared rabbit rather than the seductive saleswoman I’d trained her to be.
Ginevra’s eyes flashed with fury. She grabbed my arm, and yanked me back from where I towered over the girl. “I said, easy, you asshole.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Laila’s eyes to get bigger. Ginevra had insulted me in front of the whole fucking arena, then she had the ovaries to correct me. And she wasn’t done yet.
“The insult was to me, and Russos are made of sterner stuff. We don’t need to punish a fucking bottle girl because her boss didn’t bother to make my position clear in advance. Fuck you, Liam.”
The girl flinched back as if struck when Ginevra dismissed her with a flick of her hand. Ginevra ignored her and slammed down into the empty seat beside Rian who stretched his arm across the back of her chair and grinned up at me, tangling his fingers in the waves of her sable hair.
Fuck.
Cormac growled softly. “Get out of here, Laila. Send Anna Marie down with a glass for Liam.”
Laila scurried out of the arena, and I took my seat between Ginevra and Cormac. “Fuck, woman, that wasn’t part of the script.”
She shrugged. “Beg for my forgiveness, Liam.”
I snatched her glass out of her hands and handed it to Cormac, then dragged her over to me, until I could feel the press of her thigh against mine. When she merely raised an eyebrow in challenge, I lifted my hand to cup her jaw, stroking my thumb against her cheekbones. She grinned and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Unable to resist the invitation, I drew her in for a kiss. She opened her mouth with a sweet sigh, and I slipped my tongue into her mouth, taking my time as I claimed her in front of the entire goddamned arena.
“I’m sorry, lass,” I muttered against her lips.
“Is that what you consider begging?” she shot right back, nipping my bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled away.
I tucked the hair I’d mussed behind her ears, then brushed my lips against hers one more time for good measure. “No,” I answered, sitting back in my chair, tangling my fingers in hers and holding our twined hands together against my thigh, waiting patiently for her to relax against me.
Our VIPs, Italian and Chinese-American, sat on the opposite side of the ring and watched our exchange with avid interest. Ginevra raised her glass to them in a silent toast, despite her mussed hair and bee-stung lips.
“Good girl,” I murmured so only she could hear, and she blushed.
The first rounds of fights passed in a blur. Between each fight, we introduced Ginevra to our crew, to our guests, to the extended family we’d built here. I watched her with pride, confident we’d made the right decision, allowing her to trade places with Sofia.
