8. Alessia
Ishould have never let Gemma convince me to come to some underground illegal boxing match, but the guy she met at her gym apparently wanted to come check it out, so here we are.
My nerves are high. I know the Monaghans own the bar above the basement, but Finn is likely at the casino like he’s been every night the last two weeks. She wanted a night out, and I had nothing better to do, so I agreed to come with her. Enzo is with me because we learned a long time ago that it was easier to tell him where we were going rather than have him sullen and angry with me the next day for putting myself in unnecessary, risky situations. Nothing worse than having to deal with a brooding bodyguard all damn day. Plus, he threatened to tell my father if we snuck off without him when we were in college. I suppose now he’d go tattle to my husband.
My husband.
It’s still strange to think about Finn that way. When he saw Enzo and I sparring earlier today, I was more than a little surprised he offered to train together instead of laughing outright. There isn’t a single woman I know in our life who likes to fight or has any of the training I do. Most men want their wives soft and pliant, not loudmouths that throw a mean right hook, even if they apparently drop their shoulder. The memory of the way he intently studied my form when he put on the mitts still makes my heart race faster than normal. He watched me and pointed out where I was making the mistake. Most men would have condescendingly patted me on the head before handing me their credit card so I could spend my time doing something “fun” like shopping or getting my hair done. Instead, Finn made plans to train with me.
Our marriage certainly isn’t what I was expecting.
“Honey, you need to loosen up,” Gemma says, pulling me through the crowd to the bar sitting against the concrete wall.
The first fight of the night finished before we got here, but we saw them cleaning the blood from the ring. The crowd is lining up with several of the bookmakers throughout the room to place bets on the next bloody match. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about Eoghan or Finn catching us here tonight, but what would either of them do? It’s not like I’m some sort of prisoner in Finn’s house. And it’s not as though I’m running off on him to hang out with my best friend. The man is never there. He obviously doesn’t care about where I spend my time, so why should I care if he finds out I came here tonight? That doesn’t mean I’m not keeping an eye out for my husband or his brother though.
Gemma and I are standing in line to get a drink from the small bar set up down here, with Enzo keeping a respectable distance. He’s fine with allowing us to have our fun, but he makes sure we’re safe while doing it.
With drinks in hand, Gemma spots her crush from the gym and waves. We begin making our way to him and the group he’s with when I hear a familiar voice on the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a surprise tonight. We have none other than the man, the myth, the boss of Boston. Finnegan Monaghan.”
The crowd goes wild as my head jerks toward the ring, and I see my husband step into it with Cillian next to him, helping him tie his gloves.
So many thoughts run through my head as I stand stock-still in the middle of the crowd. Gemma is saying something to me as Eoghan announces the other fighter. Some Russian guy I’m not familiar with. I don’t catch his name, too shocked to hear anything but the blood rushing in my ears.
The bell dings and the men circle each other while getting a feel for the other’s fighting movements. Finn lands a couple blows, but his opponent lands just as many. These two are pretty evenly matched. The way Finn moves with the confidence of a trained fighter has me remembering earlier today when I scoffed at the idea that he knew better than Enzo or me when we were working out. He obviously does know better, I think to myself as I watch him dance around the Russian. I’m equally in awe of his skill as I am irritated as hell I didn’t know about his underground fighting. The cut above his brow on our wedding day makes perfect sense now. Maybe if I would have asked, he would have told me where it came from, but I didn’t. I didn’t care to get to know much about my husband before we were married. I thought I’d known everything necessary, considering this is only a business arrangement.
I catch Enzo’s eye as he stands a few feet from where Gemma and I are. I’m not sure if we should stay or not. Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t want me to know this part of him, or maybe…hell, I don’t know, but I’m suddenly feeling very out of place being down here watching Finn trade blows with his opponent when he didn’t invite me here or even tell me this is something he does.
Turning toward Gemma, I signal to the door. She nods and picks up on the fact I want to leave. I need to process this turn of events.
On our way to where Enzo is standing, we pass a group of overly obnoxious men hollering at the fighters in the ring.
One of them grabs me by the arm. “Where are you off to? Let me buy you a drink.”
I try to dislodge my arm from his grip, but he yanks me toward him. I turn around to tell the man that, in no uncertain terms, he can fuck right off. Before the words leave my mouth, my gaze collides with Finn’s. Our eyes lock for barely a second, but he immediately takes in the scene. Finn’s eyes glaze over in a cold fury that makes my stomach plummet. In the next moment, Enzo has his arms around the man holding my arm, shoving him away, but my stare doesn’t leave Finn’s. The Russian blocks my view of him, and before I can gather my thoughts, Finn sends a powerful uppercut into his jaw, knocking the man out cold. I’m tempted to run, not knowing if he’s pissed about someone grabbing me or if he’s pissed I’m here. Before I can make my feet move, Finn focuses the entirety of his fierce gaze on me and points from me to the hallway, signaling where he wants me to go.
“Oh shit, Alessia. What do you want to do?” Gemma asks, looking between Finn and me. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I said we need to get the hell out of here, she’d grab my hand and make a run for it with me.
“Mrs. Monaghan, interesting seeing you here,” I hear a voice call behind me.
Shit.
I turn and come face to face with Cillian. Well, I suppose there’s no use trying to make a mad dash toward the door now. I doubt I’d get more than five feet without one of his men stopping me.
“I think Finn would like a word,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips.
I straighten my spine and lift my chin, staring him dead in the eye. I don’t give a shit if I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be. Or that I’ve discovered some secret my husband is trying to keep from me for God knows what reason. I’m Alessia Amatto, and no one will make me feel like I don’t belong anywhere I choose to be.
“I’m sure he does.” I turn to my best friend, who is busy shooting daggers at Finn’s lieutenant. Of course, Cillian is completely nonplussed by Gemmas attitude. In fact, I think I see a hint of a smile on his face as he stares right back at her.
Her brow arches before she turns to me with a question in her eyes. Stay or run? she’s silently asking me. Only my best friend would think we could outrun the Irish mob in the basement of one of their own bars.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say and give her a quick hug before turning toward Cillian. May as well follow him now. No use putting off the argument my husband and I are about to have if the cold look in Finn’s eyes is anything to go by.
I reach the locker room moments before my husband. When he walks in, we stare at each other for a brief moment, neither of us saying a word.
“What the hell possessed you to walk into an underground fighting ring?” he asks in a deceptively calm tone.
“There’re plenty of other women here, Finn. Why shouldn’t I be here too?”
“Those other women aren’t my wife, Alessia.”
I work my jaw back and forth, the weight of his words falling heavily on my guarded heart. “I see.” Boy, do I see. “I didn’t realize I was walking into where you met with your fucking goomah.” The explosion of anger that comes out as I yell at him surprises even me.
It’s not that I didn’t know men in Finn’s position usually have a few mistresses, especially knowing what I do about him. It just wasn’t something I was expecting to care about. But fuck do I care. Maybe my heart isn’t as impenetrable as I thought.
“My what?” he asks, confusion creasing his brow.
Before I can answer, there’s a quick knock at the door, followed by Eoghan peeking his head inside.
“You might want to come out for this, brother.”
Finn takes a deep breath and looks from me to his brother, anger radiating from him.
“Stay here,” he commands before walking out and slamming the door behind him. I raise both middle fingers to the door and let out a scream of sheer annoyance. This is such bullshit. How dare he assume I’m going to stay in this little room that smells of sweat and muscle cream just because he demanded it? I don’t have to actually do anything he tells me.
My phone dings with a text alert, and I see Gemma’s name flash on the screen.
Gemma:You okay? Enzo put me in a cab and told me I need to go home, but the driver is waiting around the corner. Do you want to make a run for it?
See? Always ready to be my partner in crime.
Me:I’m fine. Just confused and extremely fucking pissed. I think Finn is more worried about my running into his girlfriend than anything else.
Gemma:That slimy asshole!
Me:It is what it is.
And that’s the fucking truth. If Finn wants to have a hundred girlfriends, no one is going to think any less of him.
Gemma:What do you want me to do? Stay or go?
The urge to tell her I’ll meet her outside and well get the hell out of here is strong. I’m so fucking tempted to go to the most expensive bar in downtown Boston and order bottle after bottle of champagne courtesy of Finn and the credit card he gave me last week to redecorate his house. I still can’t believe he suggested that, but if there’s one thing that’s paramount in this life and in this deal we made, it’s to present a united front. So, as much as I would love to run out of this room, my upbringing and loyalty to my family won’t allow it.
Me:Go. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I put my phone back in my purse and look around the space. I spot Finn’s clothes hanging in an old beat-to-shit locker. For no other reason except for the fact I must be a glutton for punishment, I walk over to his suit and run my hands down the sleeve. One thing I can certainly appreciate about the man is he knows how to dress well. The fabric of his jacket is soft and feels as expensive as I’m sure it is. I lower my face to the fabric and inhale, trying to place the rich, masculine scent that I’ve come to associate with the man who pisses me off to no end. Cedarwood maybe? My eye catches on something shiny next to his wallet and keys sitting on the little shelf in the locker. It’s his wedding ring. Of fucking course. I wonder if he takes it off every time he goes to the casino—if that’s even where he’s been spending his time.
I grab the thick gold band and examine it in my hand. This little thing really means nothing. Flashes of my future run through my mind. Me being bored and home by myself. The fake smiles I’ll have to wear in front of our families for the rest of our lives. Me losing bits and pieces of myself because of the image I’m meant to maintain in front of the world. I knew going in that this was business and there were things I was going to have to turn a blind eye to. It’s how this world works. But I wasn’t prepared to have it thrown in my face like it is tonight.
Well, fuck that.
If our vows mean nothing to him, then the loyalty I’ve been raised to have toward my marriage and our image means nothing to me.
I march out of the small room where Finn demanded I wait for him and into the large, brightly lit basement where a few people still linger about. I spot my husband walking in from a side door, shaking out his hand. He heads to the bar and signals for the bartender. The young woman loads a towel with ice and hands it to him before a woman with long blonde hair and a short-as-hell dress runs over to him and takes his hand, examining his knuckles.
And I see fucking red.
I march over to him and throw the gold band at his face.
“Fuck you. You don’t dictate what I do or where I spend my time,” I spit at him.
The blonde playing nursemaid turns to me with a sour look on her face.
“Excuse you. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Before I can think better of it or consider the consequences of my actions, my fist goes flying straight to the girl’s nose. She stumbles back on her high heels, her hands immediately clutching her nose, which now has blood pouring out of it and down the front of her gaudy-as-hell dress.
“I’m his wife.”
“You’re fucking insane,” she screeches and runs toward the stairs leading up to the bar.
Finn stands to his full height, towering over me.
“I think it’s time to go, Alessia.”
“I don’t have to go anywhere with you,” I spit back.
I turn and see Enzo walking in through the door Finn did just moments ago. My husband locks eyes with my bodyguard and tilts his chin to the door Gemma and I entered the basement through.
“Enzo will take you home. I’m grabbing my things and I’ll meet you there.”
“I already told you—”
Finn leans down and puts his face level with mine. “Do not argue with me,” he says through clenched teeth. “Go home with Enzo.”
He turns around and heads to the locker room, leaving me staring after him with my jaw hanging open.
“Come on. The car is out front,” my bodyguard informs me.
Enzo leads me out of the basement and people stare as I walk by. I pay them no mind and allow Enzo to walk in front of me with my head held high.
The entire ride home, my hand is throbbing. When we turn onto the private road leading to Finn’s house, I notice headlights behind us. Finn must have been flooring it to catch up to us.
After Enzo opens the door for me, I step out, determined to make it to my room and lock the door before my asshole of a husband even steps foot in the house.
“Just so you know,” Enzo starts, “he hurt his hand beating the man’s face into a bloody mess.”
“What man?” I saw him fight. He knocked the Russian out cold before he demanded I meet him in the locker room.
“The man who grabbed you. Told him hed better think twice before touching what doesn’t belong to him.”
I scoff. “I don’t belong to Finn.”
Enzo simply nods as Finn stops behind my car and throws his into park.
He steps out wearing slacks and his white dress shirt is only half done up, his jacket slung over his arm.
“We need to talk,” he growls before slamming his car door.
“I don’t need to do anything you tell me,” I shoot back, my voice full of defiance as I stomp up the stairs and open the door. I attempt to slam it in his face, but the man is quick and stops it from closing with his booted foot.
“That wasn’t a request, Alessia. Get your ass in the kitchen.”
There has never been a time in my life when I was so fucking angry I felt like my head was about to explode from pure rage. I’ve heard people talk about being that angry. I’ve even been worried watching the vein in the side of my father’s temple pulse when he was mad, but never in my life have I felt the kind of white-hot rage I do at this moment.
Instead of ignoring him and going to my room, I stomp after him and stop in the dimly lit kitchen, watching as he pulls out the ice tray from the glossy black refrigerator. He tosses it on the white marble countertops with a jarring clatter in the otherwise silent space then grabs two bags from the drawer, setting them next to the trays. He loudly slams the drawer shut before filling the bags with ice. If he doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation then who am I to save him from this argument? He has yet to acknowledge my presence in the kitchen, instead tending to his swollen hand, and I’ve had just about enough of being ignored when he was the one who demanded I follow him in here.
I slap both of my hands on the center island dividing us. “I won’t have you throwing your whores in front of my face.”
His gaze flicks to mine before moving back to the bags. “Is that what goomah means?”
My mouth stays clamped shut in a firm line instead of answering. Unfortunately, the daggers I’m staring at him aren’t actually ripping him to shreds where he stands.
“You were somewhere you shouldn’t have been without checking with me or even telling me you were going to one of my establishments.”
“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to leave the house in the first place. Why don’t you tell me all the places I’m not allowed to go. I’ll make a little list and tack it to your forehead!”
“So violent,” he says, handing me the ice pack. I stare at it and then him.
“Take it.” He shakes the bag a couple times. “I know your hand hurts like a bitch.”
Begrudgingly, I grab the baggie from him because he’s right. Breaking that bitch’s nose hurt like hell without boxing gloves.
“We need to get a few things straight.” Finn leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his broad chest. To any other person, he looks cool and calm, as though we were about to have a discussion about the weather. To me, though, I see a powerful man who is keeping his fury contained just below the surface.
Here goes. This is the part he tells me he can do whatever the hell he wants, and I have no say in the matter. Well, fuck him. If he can do whatever he pleases, then so can I.
“I do not go there to meet my mistresses. I go to the fights to relieve stress.”
“If that’s not where you meet your mistresses, then what was one of them doing there? They obviously know more about where you spend your time than I do. Otherwise, why would she be there?”
“I’d met that woman before we got married.”
“I don’t care where or when you meet your mistress, Finn.” I throw my hands in the air with frustration. Does he honestly think that’s the important detail here? “Let me be very clear. If you think you can screw around with anyone you want, then so can I. I won’t be one of those women who stays locked in the house and makes you a nice home-cooked meal while you walk in smelling like cheap perfume. I’ll have my own life, and if you want to fuck around, then I will too.”
Finn’s eyes turn dark with anger, and the calm facade he kept in place is about to crack right down the middle. Fear lances through me for a moment, worried I just crossed a very serious line. Hell, I know I did. I jumped straight over it, flipping him off as I went.
He walks around the kitchen island and holds my defiant stare with a determined one of his own.
“Let’s get a few things straight.” I open my mouth to interrupt, and he slams his hand over it before I can get a word out. “You will not talk over me. One, that girl is not my mistress. I’ve never touched her or any woman since you and I said our vows. I don’t care if they were made for a business arrangement. They still mean something, and I don’t take that shit lightly. Two, the reason I didn’t want you at the fight wasn’t so you wouldn’t run into a sidepiece that, once again, doesn’t exist. It was because it’s a dangerous place, and if anything happened to you there, I would never fucking forgive myself. I can’t control what other women do, but that is not the place for you or Gemma to spend your time. And three.” He leans closer and his voice drops to an ominous tone I’ve yet to hear from him. “If you ever so much as entertain the thought of having any sort of extramarital affair, wife, I will find the man who has an obvious death wish and make myself his fairy fucking godmother. I will carve the skin from any part of his body that touched you and force him to watch as I dissolve it in acid over and over before I slit his fucking throat.”
My breath stills in my chest as I stare into his eyes, seeing he means every word, every threat.
“Am I clear?”
I nod and he removes his hand from my mouth.
“Good. Now, about the Suzy Homemaker comment,” he begins, and my head spins at the ease with which he changes the subject from committing gruesome acts of violence to me being a housewife. “I never thought of you as the housewife type.”
I give him a flat look.
“Okay,” he says on a chuckle. “When I got to know you a little, I could tell that it didnt interest you. You’re in need of something to do, and I happen to be in need of a casino host.”
I narrow my gaze and study Finn for a few moments. “What happened to the last one?”
“They were caught skimming.”
So they’re dead.
“I’ve never worked in my father’s casinos. I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“No, but I’ve seen you be friendly and charming when you want to be. And I don’t have to worry about you stealing from me.”
I mull over his offer. It would give me something to do, and it beats the hell out of being home alone and bored every night.
“I’ll think about it,” I reply.
Finn nods. “Okay.”
Theres a beat of awkward silence in the kitchen now that both of our tempers have fizzled out.
I put the ice on the counter and look Finn in the eye. “Thanks for the ice pack and the job offer.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. The air between us is charged, and I’m still a frazzled jumble of emotions.
I turn to leave the kitchen, but before I reach the doorway, he calls after me.
“That was a good punch. You didn’t drop your shoulder.”
I chuckle and turn my head.
“I guess you knew what you were talking about earlier after all.”
Finn shrugs with a boyish grin. It’s not one I’ve seen before, and goddammit if it doesn’t do some very inconvenient and unwanted things to my body.
Fuck.
I think I want to sleep with my husband.