9. Dmitri
9
DMITRI
H ad I had the opportunity to step into Luca Armani’s fight ring sooner, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat. It just so happened that this particular night, I’ve had a month’s worth of serious pent-up rage to vent. The Italian mafia boss was seriously pissed because of the business dealings I had with the woman he was trying to win over, Arabella Barone. It was a sticky situation between the two, considering how their relationship was built on lies and would most likely end in betrayal. But I had stakes in this as well with the recent intention to buy out in silent partnership the company building that Elanee works at from Ara. Luca was simply jealous, and I used that to my advantage to fight in his underground ring now.
I was growing impatient.
Bit by bit, I was putting things in place to pry my father’s control over Elanee. Ultimately, I needed a way to bring him here to New York so I could face him and kill him.
It wasn’t coming quick enough, and I’d wrestled sleepless nights, managing daily business and discipline that I’d never known to hold back. Sending her letters and keeping tabs wasn’t enough. She wasn’t by my side where I could protect her, nor could I run to her side, jeopardizing her family.
I bounce back and forth in the ring, buzzing from the energy of the underground club and the intention of catching Luca’s attention and respect. For the first time in my life, I want allies. Powerful ones. I’d never played nice with others—but for Elanee’s freedom, I was willing to go to great lengths to make them.
I’m disorientated by the heavy pounding of the migraine I’d been fighting through, but I’ve already finished my first match, obliterating their champion with only a few scratches or bruises myself. I relish the way the crowds boo and curses my name, most likely because of all the money they just lost stacking bets against me.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck.
I needed this fight.
And I needed Luca Armani’s approval.
I look in his direction, where he sits like a king on his throne, with a concerned Ara beside him. She had no idea I’d be here tonight. But I don’t watch her. I watch him.
Luca had every reason to be wary of me, “the outcast Bratva prince,” he’d once called me. I personally thought he was an asshole, but so was I, and having an ally like him will work to my advantage if it’s not just my father I’m dealing with but the Bratva he works for as well. It might turn into an all-out turf war. I had no need to hide behind someone, but I'd claim it if it favored the odds of protecting Elanee when I took her back.
With sickening pleasure, I watch Luca rise from his chair and descend the stairs amongst the members sitting and those closely standing around the ring. Ara almost looks concerned for my well-being, which is why I have a feeling Luca has death in his eyes. Lord forbid anyone take his woman’s attention away from him.
I’d fought all through my college days, and behind the mask that society sees, I was more than happy to clean up messes personally when it comes to underhand business.
For occasions like this, being able to blow off some steam, I enjoyed it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to put your bids in because this is a spectacle to be seen. Our own host, Mr. Armani, will be fighting tonight.” The announcer proclaims, and at first, everyone is silent, and then a flurry of movement begins. No doubt betting against me once again. Because who the fuck would be stupid enough to bid against the owner of the club.
I lick the taste of salty sweat beading around my lips from the previous fight. Luca steps into the ring, towering at six foot four and built like a truck. I know he won’t be easy to take down, but where he has mass, I have speed. He removes his suit jacket, stripping down to his dress shirt, mirroring my own attire.
I glance at Ara, and that was my mistake because Luca swings, and I barely dodge it in time. He’s surprisingly fast for his size.
“Keep your eyes on me.” Luca has a half-crazed smile.
“Looks like the match has begun already!” the announcer says. Cash is being handed around crazily as bids are being placed.
Neither of us is here for the money, why when we both have more than we know what to do with. But he and I are the same, killers by nature.
We lazily circle one another to get a feel for each other’s footing. I’d heard stories about Luca’s fighting in the ring before he took over as head of the mafia years ago. I imagined had we been in the same circles then we probably would’ve fought on more than one occasion.
“Trying to prove to Daddy you can fight?” he antagonizes.
The mention of my father snaps my already explosive last nerve because it reminds me of everything I’ve failed to protect up until now. I kick low for his legs, but he’s so fast he catches it and throws me across the ring. I use the momentum to bounce against the ropes to spring back and aim for his face.
He blocks it with ease and sidesteps me. Stars glitter my vision as his elbow hits the back of my head. Luca kicks me in the ribs, and I hit the rope, and this time I don’t bounce back as easily. My hand trembles as I touch the back of my head and retract blood.
I’d reacted to his provocation and lost my cool. But he hadn’t. It’d been too easy for him.
The crowd is barely audible as my breathing reins in and out, and I’m reminded of how very mortal I am. And yet, I’m elated. I split a maddening smile. How long has it been since someone could actually hurt me? How long had I been able to freely let loose like this?
I barely notice my still-healing shoulder when I stand back up because adrenaline is taking its natural course. When my gaze lands on Luca, I realize he’s smirking at me. Respect. Mutual elation and permission to beat the shit out of one another. I don’t plan on dying tonight even if he might be one of the few to have the skillset for it.
Luca’s attention looks back up at Ara, who’s downing a drink, clearly distressed, as she watches on.
I take advantage and hit him front-on, immediately splitting his lip. As he stumbles back, he smiles, blood smearing his teeth.
We’re both smiling like fucking idiots. And yet, my chest is pounding. My head spinning. Absolutely fucking elated. This is exactly what I needed.
We trade blow for blow. I take a hit in my right eye as I split his eyebrow.
I’m naturally feeling into my rhythm, swing for swing, letting the veracious beast within me take over. A wave of dizziness takes hold and throws my next swing off. Luca purposefully takes the hit to his lip again so he has the prime position to undercut me straight into the ribs.
Sharp, searing pain trails up from my ribs and chest as an audible crack echoes, and I naturally keel over. I don’t have the wits about me to try and block as he kicks me across the floor.
Get up. Get up. Get up. My breathing comes out short. My ribs are fucking burning, but my spinning head is taking its sweet time to dispel. I try to shake it off as I slowly take a stand, trying my hardest to raise my arms and block his next move. I’ll be fucked if I’m tapping out. But as I stand, I realize the match is already done.
Luca steps out of the ring, his line of sight on Ara, who bundles her hands to her chest in a desperate plea. She might be in denial about their relationship, but no man in his right mind would stop mid-fight to appease a woman’s silent begging, especially if he didn’t care about her.
Everyone seems to be in shock. The crowd is silent, and I doubt very few are willing to announce their annoyance vocally.
“It looks like The Playboy is the winner tonight. Our host has previous engagements to attend,” the announcer proclaims.
My heart is pounding, and my body is in a world of pain, but I’m fucking furious. He basically threw the fight, and my appetite for blood hasn’t been quenched at all. When I took a step forward, I might’ve been ready to continue the fight, but my body felt like it was being stripped from the inside.
I wanted this fight for me. But more than anything I wanted it to leave an impression on Luca so I could create an agreement and another layer to protect Elanee and I’m certain I’d done that.
But I didn’t feel like I was done with this fight.
Perhaps, that’s because this inner rage was never done with me.
Tonight, however my body seems to have had enough and I open and shut my eyes, pushing through the searing pain.
Silently praying for more of its wrath.
“Great, so now you have two broken ribs.” Layla throws her hands in the air. “Are you insane? Why were you even at Luca Armani’s club?”
The practitioner, who is often silent on my arrival, seems to be far too agreeable with Layla tonight. Most likely because only a month ago, he stitched the bullet hole in my shoulder and advised me I should stop being so reckless.
“And didn’t we agree you should have a low profile by not contacting me?” I reply with a calm contempt.
Layla places her hands on her hips in disbelief. “Yes, we agreed to that until you walked into the Armani bar where I’m working, at the moment.” She kicks up to sit beside me. What was once a living room in the practitioner’s two-story home is now a medical room.
I’d purposefully pushed Layla to find employment in one of the Armani clubs. That way, I knew the Bratva were less likely to target her because if they did, as an employee of the Italian mafia, they might feel wrath tenfold.
Although after tonight, dancing in the fight ring with the head of the family, Luca, I admired him more when others had a right to fear him.
“I mean, I guess you won.” Layla shrugs casually.
“Only because he handed me the win,” I grit out as I go to stand. The room spins, and Layla catches me before I fall back into the chair.
“Whoa there. Is that normal?” she asks the practitioner.
I steady my breath, frustrated with my body. It had failed me tonight as well. It must’ve been the countless sleepless nights catching up to me. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t until Elanee was truly set free.
“Considering his condition and being in what sounds like a street brawl, on top of the amount of stress Mr. Volkov has running his businesses, I would firstly suggest sleep,” Doc says.
“See. Fine.” I offer a tight smile.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I look at the recent images that have been uploaded. Images of Elanee going about her day-to-day, mingling with her clients and smiling as if she hadn’t a care in the world. I’d always envied that smile. When I first met her, I’d wanted to break her for it. Now, I’d give anything for it to be directed at me instead of the apparent hellfire resentment she has for me. And nor could I blame her.
I shrug Layla off, a reminder that I shouldn’t have let either of them get close to me. “I have work to do. Thanks, Doc.”
Layla walks behind me in disbelief. “Did you not just hear the doctor?”
“Be careful, Layla. You almost sound like you care,” I tease.
I push past the searing pain and take two steps toward the door. On the third, black and white stars return, and the last thing I remember is Layla reaching out to catch me as I fall into an abyss.