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DOMENICO
When I left my father’s office, I heardhertalking to LeAnna, our housekeeper, in the kitchen, so I snuck out the front door to leave. I texted Ren to meet me on the mats at the gym. I have quite a bit of aggression to get out, and I still owe my little brother an ass-kicking.
That was fifty minutes ago. I’ve been stretching for the last fifteen, and if he doesn’t drag his ass in here within the next minute or two, I’m going to resort to pounding on the floor bag. Every second that ticks by, the pressure inside my head compounds.
Ren wasn’t the only one I sent a message to. I came out of the text with him and sent one to my father, telling him to have Ciera tested. I’m not sticking my dick in her—married or not—until I know she’s clean. Dad replied her appointment had already been scheduled for tomorrow morning.
My sister was going to be next, but before I could type out a text, one from her came through telling me she and Matteo had just landed in Cabo for their honeymoon. She asked me if Dad was still acting like a dick.
Sienna knows she doesn’t have to check in with me or tell me her whereabouts. I have the ability to see her and Ren’s location at any given time, the same as they do each other and me, but I like that she does it without me having to stalk her location.
After the reception last night, Brooklyn left to spend the week with Matteo’s parents while they boarded Mischa’s private jet that took them straight to Mexico. They’ll return on Friday just in time for the sham my father has decided to throw together. What the rush is, I still don’t know. I haven’t asked either, but I’m curious. Knowing my dad the way I do, there’s a reason behind it, and if I can find that out, it may give me enough leverage to stop the wedding altogether or at least push it back.
I’m not against fucking Ciera. In fact, I’ve wanted to do just that since the first time I laid eyes on her beautiful body and drop-dead gorgeous face. Her age doesn’t even dampen my desire for her like I made it seem when I blew up on my father this morning. I’ll turn twenty-six in a few days. Her being nineteen puts less than six years between us. We’re notthatfar off. Though I haven’t fucked a teenager since I was one, so there’s that.
Movement has my eyes snapping up from where my ass sits on the mat with my legs stretched in front of me. Ren walks in, dropping his black duffle bag by the case opening to the private training room he knew he’d find me in.
“Bout damn time,” I say, drawing my legs into me. Blowing out a breath, I jump to my feet as he kicks off his sneakers and socks. He’s already dressed in rash guard shorts with a plain black T-shirt covering his torso, the same as me.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t stopping a killer blow job to get here faster,” he muses, a smirk forming on his lips as he closes our distance.
Extending my left arm, I grab my brother by the collar of his shirt when he gets within reaching distance, yanking him forward. I step with my right foot as I throw an elbow into the side of his head, but he ducks at the last second, causing my arm to swing over the top of his head, missing its target while he slams his right fist into my side. The punch burns, but it only manages to tip my lips upward.
I needed this.
Releasing the material of his T-shirt, I plant my palm on his chest and push him backward and away from me. I don’t step away from him. Instead, I advance forward, capitalizing on his stumble by swinging again, this time my fist connecting with his jaw.
“Nice,” Ren says, cracking his neck, the ghost of a smile gracing his face. Five weeks ago, he was a mess. He’s done a one-eighty since our time in New Orleans. You’d never know he faced death only one week ago when Dimitri Sokolov took him from the strip club he owns in the city in an attempt to get Sasha to bend to his will.
“Let’s see if you’ll be saying that when I’m finished with you, little brother.”
Smirking, he says, “Or, I you.”
I beckon him with my fingers. “By all means, give me your best. No holding back. Let’s settle the score.”
“You mean for you breaking my wife’s finger?” He arches a brow. “Gladly, motherfucker.” A snarl forms on his lips, the smile suddenly gone as if it were never there to begin with.
Stepping toward me, his feet swap places in the blink of an eye as he pulls a switch kick, attempting to land it on the ribs he hammered his fist into a moment ago. I block with my forearm and pivot around as I swing my fist into his side before snatching him by his shirt and ramming my knee into his gut.
I love my brother. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I’d kill any motherfucker that wished him or my sister harm. That extends to Sasha and Matteo, even the fucking giant in my life if I’m being honest, but I also thoroughly enjoy kicking each one of their asses. Matteo’s time is coming. I might even go as far as saying he deserves a beating more so than Ren for the way he treated my sister growing up.
No one gets a free pass, family included. I can have your back without respecting you. That doesn’t mean you have my loyalty. Both are earned, and so far, Matteo has shown he’s grown up in the last six years. He doesn’t back down from my father; that alone proves his character and worth as a man.
Shoving Ren away from me again, I hook my ankle around his and cause him to trip, falling backward. I tackle him to the cushioned mat, taking up residence on top of him. I lock my feet under his legs at the same time he grabs and traps my right arm to his chest, also capturing my foot on the same side. He arches and flips me onto my back. Releasing me, he pushes off and stands, a smirk in place when I glance up.
Lifting my legs, I roll back until my palms are flush with the mat, and then I explode up into a stand.
“Are you going through with it?” Ren asks. Arching my brow, I silently wait for him to clarify, even though he can only be talking about one thing. “The wedding,” he says after a beat.
“Even I have to follow the boss’s orders,” I say with a lack of emotion, like we’re talking about mundane shit instead of my future.
He beckons me to come at him, but I wait him out. Ren’s impatient; he’ll come to me.
“This isn’t business. Why is he playing with your life?” Like I knew he would, my brother makes the next move. He grabs my shirt, the same as I did to him previously, yanking me inches from his chest. Twisting, he puts me into a headlock, and I allow it, forcing myself not to smile as he messes up. Tightening his grip, he goes to punch me on the other side of my ribcage, and from there, he’s planning to take me to the ground to pummel me.
Predictable.
Before he locks his ankle behind mine, I throw a hard punch to his side and then another direct to the gut. I repeat both hits two more times, forcing him to lose his hold, which I easily come out of.
