28
Liv
One minute, I’m being fucked within an inch of consciousness, and the next, I wake up with a massive rock on my finger.
It’s gorgeous and literally the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen.
It’s sparkly, and way too much for someone like me.
But the second I start thinking about what it represents, my head spins, and I can feel the spiral coming on fast.
I should be happy, right?
He’s trying to help me, in his own twisted way.
But Mafia people like Alessio?
They don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts.
Rip a heart out, maybe.
But charity work isn’t exactly their thing.
I’d be an idiot to think he’s marrying me over a couple thousand in clothes.
And the massive order of dicks should be put on Paola’s tab, even if I’m the one benefiting from the toys .
I was excited to finally have a chance to get out of my elegantly filled prison, but Alessio rushed me out this morning.
I barely had time to fully panic, let alone find something to wear, before he was grabbing his keys and heading for the door.
I threw on the first pair of black leggings I could find, paired with a matching sports bra and a navy tank top.
The fabric hugs my thighs a little too tight, making me self-conscious.
They’ve always been on the thicker side, and normally, I wouldn’t care, but today, I feel every seam with every move I make.
This is exactly why I hate online shopping.
My hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, though a few wild curls refuse to stay put because I didn’t have time for that either.
I took the diamond off, but I swear I can still feel it on my finger, even though I left it in the car.
Alessio noticed the moment I slipped it off.
He notices everything.
His jaw clenches just slightly, that barely-there sign that he’s annoyed but won’t admit it.
His words from earlier play in my head, “You need it off for the gloves? Fine. But the second they come off, you put it back on. And you don’t take it off again unless I’m with you.”
I spiral every time I think about marriage .
After getting fitted for gloves, I stomp toward the center of what smells like a sweat-soaked gym.
It’s gross but familiar, reminding me of the gym Clover used to drag me to for self-defense lessons when I was a teen.
This gym is small but clean and modern, packed with everything a gym needs, including a fighting cage in the middle.
The only other person here was the lady at the front desk, who gave me gloves.
But she’s vanished, leaving me alone with the devil himself.
I catch sight of Alessio lifting weights, muscles flexing and glistening with sweat, and a shiver runs down my spine.
He’s wearing a sleeveless black shirt showing off every inch of his tattoos, and gray sweatpants that cling to his waist just right.
Damn him.
Why does he have to look so good?
And why, of all things, does he have to wear those pants?
The kitty between my legs starts to purr, but I quickly clamp down on that urge.
Now is not the time to get turned on, especially not in these tight pants.
No, it’s time to tell him I can’t marry him.
The words die on my lips when he finishes his set and walks toward the cage.
“Shoes off and come here,” he orders, sitting up from the bench and heading toward the cage.
I don’t even think, I kick off my shoes and follow him .
The cage door locks behind us with a metallic clank, and my stomach drops.
This is so stupid.
Why did I agree to this?
Oh, right, because I’m an idiot who can’t say no to the hellspawn in gray sweats, that’s why.
I move to the other side of the ring, putting some space between us, if that’s even possible in this glorified hamster cage.
“Come here,” he says, pointing to the spot right in front of him, his tone making my insides squirm, but not in a bad way.
“I’m already here,” I shoot back, folding my arms tightly across my chest.
Alessio closes the space between us until he’s practically towering over me.
My breath catches, and I swear he hears it because his lips curl into that stupid, smug smile that makes me want to punch him and kiss him, but mostly punch him.
He tilts his head, eyes shining with amusement, and grabs my wrist.
“Don’t touch me unless you’re prepared to lose a hand,” I joke, pulling free.
To my horror, he laughs at me.
Full-on chuckle.
Asshole!
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he says, tapping the tip of my nose, and I want to bite his finger off .
My skin is too hot, and my face burns.
I swear my chest is going to explode if he doesn’t back off.
But no, Alessio just stands there like he’s the king of the universe and I’m his favorite play toy.
“I’m serious,” I say, but it’s a lie.
“Are you?” He steps closer, and I instinctively step back.
But every step I take, he matches.
I glance left, then right, searching for an escape, but there isn’t one.
My back slams into the metal of the cage, and I curse under my breath.
He plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
My pulse skyrockets, thudding loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.
I shift my weight, pressing my palms flat against the fence behind me like it’s going to ground me somehow.
But it doesn’t do a damn thing.
His eyes flick to my mouth, and my breath stutters.
I’m pinned, and every nerve in my body is on high alert.
He leans closer, the faint scent of sweat and whatever expensive cologne he wears invading my space, and damn it, why does he have to smell so good?
My throat dries up, but I tilt my chin defiantly, refusing to let him see me crack, even though I’m already unraveling.
“Move.” I press my palms flat against his chest, trying to push him back, but he doesn’t budge.
It’s like shoving a brick wall that smells way too good.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt before I realize it, and the bastard chuckles under his breath.
Leaning down until our noses almost brush.
“Make me,” he challenges, and my pulse skitters out of control.
I push harder, but he grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head.
My stomach clenches and heat pools low in my belly, even though I’m mentally screaming at my body to get it together.
“You’re an ass,” I snap, glaring up at him.
My voice sounds a hell of a lot weaker than I wish it did.
“Yeah? But you like it,” he smirks, pressing even closer until our bodies are flush.
My knee twitches, tempted to aim for his crotch, but the gleam in his eye tells me he’s already two steps ahead.
Alessio’s knee nudges between my legs, spreading them apart, and my breath catches in my throat.
“Are you done fighting me, Sirena ?”
I swallow hard.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard cock.
I mean hard place…
and I do mean hard.
My cheeks are blazing, and I probably look like a giant tomato right now.
“I’m not,” I shoot back, forcing my voice to sound steady, even though my brain is short-circuiting.
“I just didn’t come here to talk about your cute ass in gray sweatpants, so show me what you got, tough guy.”
The second it leaves my mouth, I regret every life choice that brought me to this moment.
Oh, Liv, you idiot .
His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with way too much amusement.
“So, you think I have a cute ass?”
Kill me now.
My face somehow burns even hotter.
It’s already a freaking sauna in here, and now my brain is bouncing between panicky and dirty thoughts like a malfunctioning browser with too many tabs open.
One of his hands leaves the cage, brushing a stray curl from my cheek.
My breath stutters, traitorous lungs barely cooperating, as his thumb drags down the side of my face, lingering just under my jaw.
My knees are about two seconds away from giving out entirely.
“You can’t decide if you want to punch or kiss me.”
“Who says I can’t do both?” I snap, trying to sound tough even as my body leans into his touch like some desperate, heat-starved lunatic.
My brain is screaming abort mission , but my body’s already waving a white flag and asking him what else he’s got .
“Careful what you wish for,” he whispers, lips barely brushing my jaw, sending a delicious shiver down my spine as his hands tighten around my wrists.
My pulse is a runaway train, my breath is shallow and quick.
I should pull away.
Any minute now, Liv .
Then he suddenly lets go and takes a step back.
I immediately grab onto the cage for support because weak knees and hot mafia men don’t mix.
“Let’s get started,” Alessio says, like he didn’t completely mind-fuck me.
He turns away, but not before giving my ass a quick spank that leaves a zing shooting straight through me.