Chapter 6
Isabella
From my perch by the gym's second-floor window, I watch Tony approach. He's in his usual black from head to toe, looking dangerous and untouchable - every inch the feared enforcer of Little Italy. But he doesn't see me watching, doesn't know I can see the side of him he tries so hard to hide.
A ball bounces into his path, followed by a small boy who freezes at the sight of him. Even kids know who Tony Rivera is, know to be scared. The boy stares up at him, trembling slightly, as Tony picks up the worn baseball.
Instead of the intimidating figure everyone expects, Tony crouches down to the kid's level. He says something that makes the boy laugh, then pulls out his wallet. My heart does a funny little flip as he hands the kid what looks like forty dollars, gesturing toward the sports shop down the street. The boy's face lights up like Christmas came early.
I smile, remembering the time I caught him feeding stray cats behind the social club. He'd threatened to make me disappear if I ever told anyone. It only made me want him more.
Three days. That's how long it's been since I had Tony in my bed, since his hands and mouth made me forget my own name.
And now, watching him ruffle that kid's hair before sending him off to buy a new ball, I realize I'm in serious danger of falling for more than just his dangerous good looks.
"You're late," I call out as he enters my private gym. It's Sunday afternoon, and I've been "practicing" my kicks while waiting for him. The tiny shorts and sports bra I'm wearing aren't regulation sparring gear, but they're definitely getting the reaction I wanted.
Tony stops dead in his tracks, his eyes darkening as they trail over my body. "You're playing dirty, princess."
"Me?" I spin into another high kick, enjoying how his gaze follows the movement. "I'm just staying in shape. You're the one who promised to help me practice."
"That was before I knew you fought dirty." He circles me on the mat, predatory grace in every movement. His jacket and tie are already discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms. "Nice outfit, by the way. Not exactly regulation gear."
"What's wrong with my outfit?" I throw a combination of punches, which he blocks easily. "Too distracting?"
"You know exactly what you're doing, princess." He catches my wrist, pulling me close before I spin away. "Using your assets to gain advantage."
"All's fair in love and war." I dance just out of his reach. "Besides, you're one to talk. Walking around in those jeans that fit you like some Italian GQ model."
His laugh is rough. "You been checking me out, Esposito?"
"Please. Like you haven't been staring at my ass for the past ten minutes."
"Fifteen, but who's counting?" He moves lightning-fast, nearly catching me, but I slip away again. "Stop running and fight me properly."
"Make me."
We trade blows, every touch charged with electricity. He's holding back - we both are - more interested in the game than actual sparring. His hands linger a second too long each time he blocks a strike. My body brushes his more often than necessary.
"Getting slow in your old age?" I taunt as I dodge another grab. "The great Tony Rivera, losing his edge?"
"Watch who you're calling old." This time when he moves, it's with his full speed and skill. Before I can blink, he's swept my legs out from under me.
I roll with the fall, but he's already there, pinning me to the mat. His body covers mine, hard muscle pressing me down, and suddenly the air feels electric. One of his thighs is wedged between mine, and every slight movement sends sparks through my body.
"Got you," he growls, his face inches from mine.
"Do you?" I arch up against him deliberately, feeling exactly how affected he is by our position. The evidence of his arousal presses against my hip, and his sharp intake of breath is victory enough. "Because from where I'm lying, feels like I've got you right where I want you."
His eyes darken dangerously. "Playing with fire, princess." His grip on my wrists tightens.
"Maybe I want to get burned." I lift my head, close enough to feel his breath on my lips. "What are you going to do about it, Rivera?"
Something snaps in his expression, and then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding. I melt into him, wrapping my legs around his waist as his hands slide from my wrists to my waist, pulling me closer against him as his mouth claims mine with an intensity that makes my pulse race. His fingers slip beneath the hem of my top, rough hands gliding up my heated skin, each touch lighting a path of fire. When he presses his hips down, pinning me to the mat even tighter, I can feel just how hard he is, and it’s impossible not to let out a gasp against his lips.
“Still think you’ve got me right where you want me?” he murmurs, voice low and full of dark amusement.
My response is swallowed by his mouth as he kisses me harder, one hand trailing lower, fingers brushing over the waistband of my shorts. His hand slips under, finding bare skin. His fingers brush against me, and he lets out a satisfied growl, feeling exactly how ready I am for him.
“Damn, princess,” he breathes, his hand slipping further, cupping me fully, his fingers parting me slowly. “I love how ready you are for me.”
My back arches, and my head presses into the mat as his fingers move with maddening precision, stroking me right where I need him. I grip his shoulders, clinging to him, trying not to cry out, every nerve ending alight with the sensation of him touching me in this way. He lowers his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as his fingers work me toward the edge, slow and torturous.
With a wicked grin, he slides down, pulling my shorts and thong just low enough to bare me completely to him, his gaze hungry as he drinks me in.
“Tony—” I barely manage his name before his mouth is on me, hot and demanding. His tongue moves over me, and any hope of staying quiet dissolves as a moan slips out. His hands press down on my hips, holding me in place as he devours me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, every nerve set on fire by the way his mouth moves.
The thrill of it all—his control, the risk of getting caught, his mouth drawing out every last bit of my self-control—pushes me right to the edge. His fingers grip tighter, holding me down, not letting me escape until I shatter, my whole body trembling beneath him, pleasure overtaking every sense.
When I finally come down, he pulls back slightly, lifting his head, and the satisfied, almost possessive look in his eyes sends another thrill through me.
“Better be careful what you wish for, princess,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my skin.
The shrill ring of his phone cuts through our heated haze. Tony pulls back, breathing hard, and I could murder whoever's calling.
Then I see his expression change as he looks at the screen, and my stomach drops.
"It's your brother."
Ice water couldn't have cooled us off faster. Tony rolls off me, putting physical distance between us as he answers. I stay on the mat, skin still tingling from his touch, watching his professional mask slide back into place.
"What’s up?" His voice is steady, controlled - like he wasn't just about to tear my clothes off. Like my legs weren't just wrapped around him.
I sit up slowly, adjusting my clothes, trying to read his expression as he listens to Dom. His jaw tightens, that muscle I love to kiss ticking with tension.
"Understood. Yes, everything's under control here." His eyes flick to me, then away. "No problems at all."
The lie tastes bitter in the air between us. When he hangs up, the look he gives me is filled with regret and something else - something that makes my heart race for entirely different reasons.
"Dom's coming home early," he says roughly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
Well, shit.
"How early?"
"Next week."
I stand, closing the distance between us, but he steps back. "Tony..."
"We should get back to work." His walls are already up, professional distance firmly in place. Like we weren't just moments away from crossing that final line. Like he can't still see how swollen my lips are from his kisses.
"Don't you dare pull away," I warn, but he's already heading for the door.
His expression softens for just a moment, and I see the struggle in his eyes. "Your brother trusted me to protect you, not..."
"Not what? Make me happy?" I step closer, feeling him tense. "Because you do, you know. Make me happy."
He closes his eyes like my words physically pain him. When he opens them again, they're cold, distant. "I'm your brother's friend. He would feel betrayed if he knew-"
"Bullshit." I tighten my grip on his arm. "You're scared. The big bad Tony Rivera, running away because things got too real."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? From you?" I laugh bitterly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not some innocent flower that needs protecting. I run half this family's operations."
"Exactly." He finally meets my eyes again, and the heat there contradicts his words. "You deserve better than a man with blood on his hands."
"In case you haven't noticed, my hands aren't exactly clean either." I release his arm, stepping back. "But fine. Run away. Pretend this never happened. Just remember one thing."
"What's that?"
"I felt how much you want me." I let my eyes drift meaningfully down his body. "And I know you felt how much I want you. That's not going away just because my brother's coming home."
He doesn't respond, just leaves me standing there in my gym, feeling like I've won and lost all at once.