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CHAPTER1
Antonio
The sound of bone crunching is loud in my ears. It almost drowns out the sound of the crowd cheering me on. The man I just punched in the face—some guy named Stinky Sam—staggers back, blood gushing down his nose. My knuckles sting from the impact, but the tape wrapped around them helps take some of the pressure off.
I stay light on my feet as I jerk out of the way as Stinky Sam comes barreling back toward me. He misses me by an inch, running headfirst into the net around the fighting ring. His head bounces against it, and he falls back. The crowd boos at the pathetic display. And here I thought Stinky Sam would be a worthy opponent. I guess not. He’ll earn me a few grand after I win this fight, enough to keep me paying rent until I can schedule another fight.
That’s the thing with earning money from fight rings—I have to let my body heal enough before I go again. I can’t risk losing. My reputation hangs in the balance. Since I lost everything—my family, my power—the only thing I have left is the reputation of the Moretti name. Even in death, my father is helping me.
The minute Stinky Sam falls onto the ground, I pounce on him. He groans as my knee digs into his chest and my arms wrap around his shoulders, preventing him from attacking me. He struggles for a moment before slumping in defeat. The three pounds of his fist onto the ground signal he’s given up. I’ve won this round.
The crowd cheers as I stand up and soak it in. I’ve been working in fighting rings for the past five years, ever since I was forced to flee my home. My uncle Franco tried to kill me to take power, and I’ve been on my own ever since because I couldn’t risk seeing my family again and putting them in a position of danger.
Stinky Sam stands up and shakes my hand. Even though I won, he still shows a good sportsmanship about losing. “Good fight,” he says, his voice muffled from his broken nose. “You land one hell of a punch.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
He huffs. “You’re not the one with a broken nose.” He staggers off the stage and heads toward the locker rooms. I take another moment to soak in the crowd’s praise. This is my only form of family now. It’s a lonely existence, but I’ve tried to find comfort in it.
The referee motions for me to get off the stage as the next round of fighters approach. I give him a smug smile, then get down, where I’m instantly swarmed by women in short, tight skirts and crop tops. Fight rings only draw one type of woman—those looking for danger.
“You did great, Antonio,” a blonde says to me. Her shade of hair is similar to my own, a dark, sandy colored blonde. When I first started fighting, all the men around me saw me as the pretty boy. I had to take the time to show them just how wrong they were. I proved I was more than a handsome face. But even though I had to prove that to the men, with the women, my good looks have come in handy. It means I never have to go home alone to my empty apartment, devoid of family. Their bodies distract me for a few hours before they leave.
“Thanks,” I respond. “What’s your name?”
“Joanna.” She has curves in all the right places and a wide smile that makes me wonder what she can do with her mouth.
“Well, Joanna, if you want to meet up later, let me know.”
“Oh, I do.” She runs a finger down my bare chest. “Where should we meet?”
“Out front. But I need to have a shower now.” I take one step toward the locker room when a brunette steps in front of me.
“Care to have company?”
“And who are you?” I eye her up and down, which makes her smile demurely, even though none of the women who frequent this place are exactly “demure” women.
“Kelli. So, care for company?”
I shrug. “Sure.” I grab Kelli’s hand and head to the locker rooms. I don’t even look back to make sure Joanna is still there. I know women like her; she’ll still show up later, even though I’m about to fuck another woman in the showers.
The locker room is exactly as you’d expect; a slightly smelly place where naked dudes roam. As a huge man passes by with his cock hanging out, Kelli blatantly stares.
“If you like that,” I say into her ear, “then just wait until we’re alone.” She giggles when I spank her ass and motion her toward the showers.
“Antonio Moretti?” a man’s voice asks.
I pause, watching as a young man, around my age, maybe slightly older, approaches me. Unlike my lighter hair and complexion, this man is all dark. Dark brown hair, tan skin, dark eyes. “Yes?”
Kellie looks at me impatiently, and I hold up a finger for her to wait for me. She pouts.
“I’m Killian Brennan,” he says, holding out his hand. I shake it. “I’ve seen you in here fighting for quite some time. And I have to say, you have a great work ethic. There’s a passion to you that isn’t in all these other men.”
Big John, one of the fighters, grunts as he walks around Killian and grabs his bag. Killian ignores him and continues speaking. “I’ve heard your family name. The great Moretti family. It’s interesting your uncle is in charge when your father used to be. Shouldn’t that role have gone to you?”
My hackles instantly rise at his line of questioning. “Did my uncle send you?”
Killian steps back, raising his hands in surrender. “Not at all. I’m here of my own accord. You see, I’m in the process of growing my empire. The Irish have been ruled by Patrick O’Connell for a long time now, and I’m looking to take over. I thought we could join forces and take back power for ourselves.”
