7. Finn
It’s been two weeks since Alessia and her damn cat moved in. I’ve never been a big fan of cats in general, but I’m convinced there’s something wrong with this one. Any time I get within five feet of him, he lets out a disturbing growl I didn’t know cats made. It’s unsettling, to say the least. Thankfully, he hasn’t destroyed anything in the house, but he likes to hide under furniture and dart out between my legs, scaring the hell out of me.
At least the damn cat is paying me some attention. Alessia is even more standoffish than she was before we got married. I thought something shifted after our wedding night. It had for me. When I undid the buttons on her dress and stared at the smooth skin on her back that reminded me of the satiny texture of a rose petal, I couldn’t not touch her. There was a driving need coming from somewhere deep inside me. Maybe it was the whiskey making me bold, or maybe it was simply her, my wife, who now finds any excuse to avoid me.
Granted, I’ve been busy. The casino is busier than ever, and we just lost our casino host. That was the phone call that came in on our wedding night. If stealing from me wasn’t enough to end his life, pulling me away from that moment with my wife would have cemented his place in hell. Why anyone would think they can steal from my family and get away with a slap on the wrist is beyond me. After a week of watching his every move like a fucking hawk, Cillian finally caught him red-handed. To say I was in a terrible mood the first week Alessia was living here is an understatement. Now, I’m short an employee, and we’re still trying to determine if anyone was helping the thief. So far, we haven’t found anything, but I’ve been going through the financial records of every single one of my employees. To top it off, we still don’t know where Cataldi is hiding, and we’ve been running into some pushback at the docks.
She seemed happy with her room, which I had an interior designer come in and decorate for her. The dark reds I suggested confused the hell out of the decorator, but it reminded me of the color of the dress she wore the first night I met her. The damn dress that I haven’t been able to get off my mind.
The one night I was home at a reasonable time for dinner, she’d been out with Gemma, so I ate by myself in the kitchen. While I was cutting into my perfectly prepared steak, it dawned on me I had no idea how she spends her days or evenings. I see her most mornings while I get my coffee and breakfast, but as soon as Alessia finishes eating, she heads to her room, and I lock myself in my office or go to the casino.
In an attempt to thaw this ice wall that’s formed between us, I told her if she’d like to do any redecorating to let one of my staff know and they would make sure she had a credit card for my account. She looked at me like I was the stupidest man on the planet. She stomped away, mumbling something about spending my money and decorating a house was all men like me thought women were good for. I thought making this house her own would have made her a tad happy, but apparently, I missed the mark. It’s as though I’m living with the quietest houseguest in the world instead of the fiery Italian woman I met a few short weeks ago. And surprising to me, I hate it.
Walking through the hallway to the state-of-the-art gym on the first floor, I notice the door is cracked open and hear grunting and heavy breathing coming from inside the room. Cillian and my brother aren’t here, and if one of my men wants to use the facilities, they usually send me a text.
I quietly make my way to the door and push it in slightly so I can get a look at what the hell is going on in my house.
“Stop dropping your right shoulder before you throw a punch. You may as well be waving a neon sign telling your opponent what your next move is,” Enzo instructs.
The man is in workout shorts and a T-shirt, which is the most casual I’ve ever seen him.
“I’m not dropping shit,” Alessia barks out.
“Let’s take a break.”
Enzo steps out of the way and it’s the first time I’ve seen Alessia in three days. Sweat is pouring from her face to her chest, dampening the tight tank top she’s wearing. By the looks of it, they’ve been going at it for some time. Seeing her flushed cheeks shining with sweat has my mind wandering to images of her I’ve been fantasizing about nearly every night when I get home exhausted and in need of a release. The fact that she trains is a more than pleasant surprise and gives me an idea of how I can get to know my new wife.
“Let’s go again,” she tells Enzo as she sets her water bottle on the floor.
Her bodyguard raises his hands with the punch mitts, and they get back to work on her strikes. Her form is near perfect, but Enzo is right about her shoulder.
“You’re dropping your shoulder,” I say, swinging the door open and stepping into the room.
Alessia jumps, clearly unaware that I was standing at the door watching her. Enzo, on the other hand, shoots me a smirk like he knew the entire time. Good quality to have in a bodyguard. She insisted he stay with her even though I told her we have guards of our own. She refused my suggestion, and her father agreed to it. If it makes her feel more comfortable being here with one of her own, I’m not about to take that away from her.
Alessia collects herself and stands straight, irritation flaring in her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were an expert in boxing.”
“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” I say, my mouth tilting in a small smile. “But I have eyes, and Enzo is correct.”
“By all means, then.” Alessia waves her arm as though saying the stage is mine. “Show me how it’s done.”
I hold out my hand to Enzo for the punch mitts, and he hands them over, still wearing the smirk.
“She’s not a fan of being told she’s not perfect,” he stage-whispers, and Alessia scoffs.
“I had no idea,” I reply in a droll tone as I fasten the mitts to my hands.
When I turn toward my wife, she’s trying to look bored and unaffected, but I see the challenge flare in her gaze.
I hold my hands up. “Begin.”
Her first few punches are perfect, but I can tell she’s concentrating too hard. I nod my head, acknowledging she’s doing well, which relaxes her enough for her to get a little cocky, and she drops that shoulder again.
“Right there,” I say before she throws another punch. “You got sloppy because you thought you had the upper hand.”
Alessia plants her mitted fists on her hips. “Ugh, you’re as bad as Enzo.”
I laugh because her irritation with me and her bodyguard is cute. She really doesn’t like being corrected.
“Do you work out every day?” Again, I have no idea what she does with her time, and that unsettles me.
“Most,” she replies.
“Good. I’ll meet you here every morning at the same time. We’ll work out together.”
“I don’t know…” She doesn’t look excited about my offer in the least.
“I think it would be a great addition to your training for Mr. Monaghan to join us,” Enzo supplies.
“It’s settled,” I say, even though she hasn’t agreed. “See you tomorrow, dear.” I plaster a happy smile on my face as I return the mitts to Enzo.
“I thought you came in to work out?” Alessia asks.
“I think I’m going to go for a run instead.”
And then take a cold shower.
The run did me some good, but it didn’t clear my thoughts of Alessia at all. My shower, which wasn’t cold, involved me fisting my cock with thoughts of my wife in her tight tank covered in sweat and shorts that left little to the imagination. After, I called my brother to have him put me on the schedule for a fight tonight. Then, I made a call to my man inside the Cataldi organization to have him meet me at the bar. It’s not uncommon for men in any of the three Italian families in Massachusetts to come to a fight every now and then, so there’s no reason to believe it would raise any suspicion.
The basement is packed wall to wall with people when I get there. As soon as I see the ring set up in the middle of the large, brightly lit space, I breathe a little easier. This is exactly what I need tonight. I shake hands with a couple of regulars and keep an eye out for my cousin, who I have placed in the Cataldi organization. When I spot him, a sense of relief washes through me. It’s important for us to have face-to-face meetings every once in a while. I want Luca to remember he has family who cares about him, and his time being my mole in the Cataldi family is important to me and mine, even if no one except me, him, and Cillian knows about our family ties—or that he’s still alive.
“Luca,” I say when he approaches, and I hold out my hand, shaking his like I would with any other person here tonight. “Any word?” I ask, looking around the room and keeping a friendly smile on my face.
“None. Seems Carlo has vanished into the wind. I doubt he’ll stay hidden for long though. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the man throughout my years there, it’s that he thrives on control, and with the old man in prison, it’s his to take.”
When Carlo’s father went to prison on RICO charges, it was a prime opportunity for Carlo to take over the family. But his pride got in the way, and he wanted to settle a score with the US attorney who put his father away and the MC that was protecting her when his usual intimidation tactics didn’t work. The dumb fuck thought he could get away with kidnapping the couple, killing the Black Roses MC president then selling his woman into the skin trade. Thankfully, Luca was in the right place at the right time and overheard where they were holding the couple. Needless to say, the plan blew up in Carlo’s face, but he still managed to get away like the snake he is.
“I think Farina might have something to do with it.”
“Really.” I raise my brows in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“Whispers and innuendo. Nothing concrete.”
Luca has been one of the bodyguards with the Cataldis since my men shot the capo he was serving under and the rest of his crew. We were hoping Carlo would have decided to give Luca a shot with his own crew since the one he was with handled the skin trade for Carlo, but instead, he threw Luca in the house to guard his family before he made a decision where to put him next. I can tell he’s been getting restless with keeping the charade, but until we have a lock on Carlo and can dismantle his organization, Luca needs to keep up the ruse a bit longer.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. I thought with the moves I made on the port, it would have brought Carlo out of hiding, but none of my men have heard anything about him.”
Luca nods and looks at the ring. “You going in tonight?”
“Yup,” I answer, taking a sip from the water bottle in my hand. I never drink before a fight. Afterward, on the other hand, is an entirely different story.
“I heard you got married. Congratulations,” my cousin offers.
I tilt my head from side to side, trying to alleviate the tension in my neck. Luca must sense the dip in my mood, and his mouth quirks up in a knowing smile.
“Ah, not the happy union everyone seems to believe, then.” His gaze swings to the ring then back to me. “Good luck.” The way his eyes dance with laughter tells me it’s not the fight he’s referring to.
When Luca turns and melts back into the crowd, I go in search of my brother. Naturally, I find him chatting up a tall blonde at the little bar we have down here.
He sees me approach and excuses himself from the woman.
“You’re in luck. The Russian wanted a fight, but I didn’t have anyone in his weight class willing to go up against him. You game?”
Once upon a time, I entertained the idea of doing a little business with one of the Russian families from New York. It would have caused some issues with the Italians out that way, but they assured me they would be able to handle anything the Italians threw at us. I didn’t get a good feeling from them, though, and I’ve put those plans on the back burner. Of course, once they found out my brother ran the illegal fight nights in Boston, they wanted in. I guess New York had enough of the shit they’d inevitably start after the fights had been called. So far, we’ve had no such problems, but any time they come in for a fight, we bring in extra men, just in case.
“I’m up for it,” I reply.
“Was that one of Cataldi’s men you were talking to earlier?” my brother asks nonchalantly, but I see the question in his gaze.
“He’s just here for the fight. Wanted me to know that he doesn’t want any problems.”
“Hmm.” Eoghan doesn’t say anything else about Luca being here on his own. I’m grateful for that. It’s not that I relish the idea of keeping secrets from my brother, but Luca and I decided when we started this little operation that the fewer people who know, the better. If he was ever found out, no one would be able to get any information from my brother because he doesn’t know anything. We’ve gone to great lengths to ensure no one in my family or the Cataldis were aware of his true identity, except Cillian, but that was just in case anything happened to me—which isn’t a far-fetched notion—he would have someone to warn him and get him out if need be. Plus, my brother is a bit of a hothead and a mama’s boy. I don’t know if it would be possible for him to keep the fact that her only sister’s son isn’t actually dead like we were all led to believe. It’s a long, convoluted story even I had a hard time wrapping my head around—not to mention believing—when Luca contacted me all those years ago.
“Go get ready, and I’ll call you out when it’s time.”
I head to the makeshift locker room and change before Cillian meets me inside.
“Blowing off steam?” he asks as I’m taping up my knuckles.
“Something like that.” I flex my hands, testing the tape. Hell yes, I’m blowing off steam. He’s not married to one of the most tempting and infuriating women on the planet. “I thought you were at the casino tonight?” Without a casino host, Cillian has been filling in.
“I have one of my guys covering for a few hours. When Eoghan told me you were fighting the Russian, I couldn’t very well not show up.”
Cillian has always been at my side when I’ve had dealings with the Russians. His laid-back demeanor seems to relax just about everyone, but the man has a keen eye and shrewd instincts. He can sniff bullshit from half a mile away and has a sixth sense for when shit’s about to hit the fan.
“The Russians have been here a few times. They’ve kept level heads.”
“You say that like it’s not my job to make sure we get ahead of any shit they might start.”
“Fair,” I acknowledge.
“Last time you needed a fight to blow off steam, it was because you were getting married the next day. Am I correct in assuming the reason for the fight tonight is because of your wife?”
“Living with Alessia has been…quiet.”
Confusion knits his brow. “That’s a good thing, right?”
I tilt my head back and forth and flex my hands once again in the tape. “I thought it would be, but these last couple weeks, she’s mostly kept to herself. I don’t know. It’s a little weird, to be honest. I was ready for a fight, for her to come in and try to take over my space, but we hardly see each other.”
“Most men would kill for that,” Cillian jokes.
“We had a…moment the night we got married, but since then, it’s as though she’s been avoiding me.”
“Maybe your touch with the ladies is wearing off.” Cillian shrugs, and I have the distinct urge to punch him in his smug face.
“Asshole.”
My brother opens the door before I can list all the reasons Cillian is wrong about me losing anything.
“Ready?” Eoghan asks, and I stand from the bench, twisting my arms before I grab my gloves.
“Let’s do it.”
The three of us walk out to the crowded room, and the energy coming from the crowd spurs me on. Cillian helps me secure my gloves and I step into the ring, getting a look at my opponent. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Dmitri fight, so I’m somewhat prepared for what’s to come. The man is a fucking beast covered in tattoos and has a permanent scowl etched on his face.
My brother announces us, and the Russian and I tap gloves before separating. When the bell dings, he’s immediately on the move. Damn, this guy has a lot of skill behind his brawn, and he’s giving me a run for my money right off the bat. For every blow I throw, he returns combos with just as much force. This is going to be a close match, but I can tell the way to win will be to tire him out. He’s using too much energy already, probably trying to get an early knockout so he can go home with the honor of beating the head of the Monaghan family. I get in a quick jab to his temple before he swings, but his fist goes wide and he stumbles to the side. My eyes shoot up for the briefest of moments and catch a man in the crowd grabbing a woman roughly by the arm. When she swings around, the angry look slashed across her face is all too familiar.
Probably because it’s my fucking wife.
Our eyes lock for one second before the Russian blocks her from my vision and sends his powerful fist flying at my face. I dodge it at the last second and send an uppercut into his jaw, knocking the giant out cold.
Alessia is staring at me, shock and fear warring for dominance in her gaze. I give nothing away as I point my gloved fist at her then to the hallway leading to the locker room.
What the hell is she doing here?