Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I wiped the sweat from my brow, my chest heaving from the intense grappling session I just finished in Domenico Rossi’s—aka my best and only friend’s—new gym.
Across from me, Dom did the same, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each labored breath. We’d been best friends for as long as I could remember and training partners since we both took up wrestling in boarding school. After all these years, he could push me to my limits and challenge me like nobody else.
“Alright, spill it,” he said and fixed me with that penetrating gaze of his. “What’s got your lace panties in a twist?”
I waggled my eyebrows. “I left my lace panties at home.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “Just tell me, what’s eating at you?” Dom saw right through me—always had, ever since that day when I got back to school after my mother’s funeral. As soon as I stepped into our shared dorm room, he took one good look at me before instigating a fight.
A fight I desperately needed to get out all of my pent-up anger, frustration, and pain.
He saw right through me then.
But I’d become worlds better at hiding my true feelings.
With a measured, deliberately relaxed move, I leaned back on my hands. “Why would you think something’s eating at me?”
He cocked his head. “Because your ass is tighter than usual.” He gave me a flirty wink, then turned serious again. “I know you. So don’t even try to pretend with me.”
I considered deflecting, but I knew better than to try and bullshit Dom. I sighed. Dom was the one person I trusted with my life—more than anyone in our operation—even more than I trusted my brothers.
But this…images of Jemma Donnelly randomly invading my mind and unwantedly occupying my thoughts…this was a first.
“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” he said.
I glared at him. “Never in my life have I been troubled because of a woman.” Because in all seriousness, considering Jemma Donnelly a woman was just plain wrong.
Dom chuckled. “True. You forget them as soon as you’re finished buttoning up your dress shirt in the morning.”
I wiped my forehead against my shirt. “Not true. I always send flowers afterward.”
Dom scoffed. “Oh yes, I’ve forgotten the Vincenzo Salvini legendary let’s-not-overcomplicate-things signature move.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, how’s your love life working out for you?”
He glared at me. “At least I’m putting myself out there. Whereas you…you’re a lost cause.”
Now it was my turn to grin. Putting himself out there meant he had a new “love of his life” every week. The sad thing was that most of the too-young guys he took home left equally as fast as they’d entered his life.
Maybe it was an age thing; maybe it would work out if Dom went for someone our age.
Jemma was that young, as well. One more reason why thinking about the way she sucked in a breath, or how the skin of her forehead felt warm to the touch, or how her addictive scent of soap mixed with something uniquely her was completely unreasonable.
And I was neither unreasonable nor in the business of entertaining unproductive thoughts like that.
As a rule.
“Are you up for round two?”
Dom scoffed. “If you need to release some pent-up aggression, I’m holding the punching bag for you, but I’m not willing to be it.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Dom stood, and I grabbed his outstretched hand. “I’m talking about you and your mental state being a menace to society.” He handed me a pair of gloves. “I respect that you don’t want to talk about it. But I’m not letting you leave here like this.”
I put on the gloves, and together, we crossed the room for the punching bag. “You’re just getting old.”
Dom grinned. “We both are, Fratello. And love still eludes us.”
I narrowed my eyes, then slammed my fist against the punching bag, the impacts reverberating through my bones.
The bag swung and knocked into Dom, who caught it with a satisfying “Uff.”
“Damn, you’re even more of an asshole than usual.”
“Stop whining. You suggested this.”
He held the damn thing while I unleashed a flurry of hits, trying in vain to get rid of the thoughts swirling through my mind.
Jemma fucking Donnelly.
No matter how hard I trained or how many business meetings I endured, that infuriating woman refused to leave my head. Her defiant green eyes haunted me, and her fiery spirit taunted me at every turn.
“Fuck!” I growled, landing a vicious uppercut that sent shocks through my arm.
This was unacceptable. I was Vincenzo Salvini, head of the most powerful crime family in New York. I didn’t lose control like this, not over some punk kid who thought she could play games with me.
And yet…
I took a step back, keenly aware of Dom’s furrowed eyebrows.
I turned, got rid of the gloves, snatched up a towel, and wiped away the sweat dripping from my forehead into my face.
But what I really wanted to do was pace the gym floor.
Now, I couldn’t even shut down my mind while physically exhausting myself.
Was she some kind of witch who was haunting me?
Really?
I must be truly losing my mind. Yes, that punk wormed her way into my thoughts every time I tried to focus on the issue at hand—the money vanishing from our coffers—an issue which she most likely had her hands in. But now, I was giving her supernatural abilities? Ridiculous.
The only thing she was was maddening. Infuriating. Intoxicating.
And the fact I’d had no choice but to put eyes on her—made everything worse.
Because now, I got hourly updates detailing her every move. Which was why I knew that right now, she was in my city. Earlier this morning, she’d visited an address that still baffled me. Why would she meet one of the best forgers in the city? Was she doing a job for her father? According to my research, Donnelly kept his daughters pretty separated from the business, so this was a mystery. One that I intended to solve by paying Slatov a visit later.
Apart from that little trip, Jemma was spending time with Fee and Alex Falcone, probably cozying up to Matt who was too loyal, too gullible for someone like Jemma Donnelly.
I clenched my jaw at the idea of Matt and Jemma getting closer…which was exactly what I wanted. Wasn’t it?
But that didn’t stop the twist of jealousy in my gut at the idea of them getting…closer. Maybe that arranged marriage wasn’t such a good idea.
I grabbed my phone and fired off a text demanding an update from Michele on her location. I needed to know where she was. What she was doing.
Who she was with.
I exhaled. This obsession was unhealthy. Dangerous, even, especially for a man in my position. That punk had burrowed herself under my skin, and I had a sinking feeling about her.
But then again, if Hawk’s team’s initial assessment was right, that punk was, at least, somehow tied to the group that hacked us and weakened my position.
And the one thing I could not accept was being weak.
“No way you will change that, you punk.”
Dom’s brows furrowed. “What?”
I stared at Dom. “What, what?”
“What will this punk you’re talking about not change exactly?”
Did I just talk out loud without intending to? Was this how far gone I was? “I didn’t say anything.”
Dom cocked his head. “So someone’s trying to change you? I knew it was about a woman.”
I glared at him. “I’m talking about the hacker.”
“Oh.”
I nodded. “That’s what’s on my mind. That’s what has me in a mood. That’s what I can’t get out of my damn head.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Dom nodded slowly, considering my words. “I understand, but didn’t you say you’re eliminating the problem?”
I sighed. I was on the way to eliminating the problem. I’ve had my team and Hawk’s best men working on eliminating the problem. It just took way too long for my taste. “So how’s it going with that mob girl?”
I narrowed my brows and stared at Dom. I did not mention Jemma to him. So how would he know? And how did he zero in on it?
I raised a single brow.
“You didn’t think you arranging a marriage between Matt and some girl from the Irish mob wouldn’t be the number one subject of every Italian mama in town, right? There are hopes and dreams dying all over town.”
“Haha, very funny.”
“So, how is it going with that girl?”
“She’s…feisty.”
Dom chuckled. “I’m not surprised. She’s certainly a fascinating one, from what Matt told me.”
“You talked to Matt about her?”
Dom nodded. “According to him, your meeting was interesting.”
“Interesting doesn’t begin to cover it.” I raked a hand through my sweat-damp hair. “She’s like a goddamn riddle wrapped in an enigma, stuffed into a hot body. On paper, she’s this fragile little thing, all big eyes and soft edges. But as soon as you see her in person, you know you’ve been fooled. She’s a force of nature, fierce and unyielding and utterly annoying.”
Unbidden, the memory of our heated exchange re-entered my inner eye, her fiery gaze searing into me as she stood her ground despite me towering above her. That defiant tilt of her chin, the way her chest rose and fell with each indignant breath. It had taken every ounce of my self-control not to close the distance between us and?—
I cut off that dangerous thought before it could go any further and met Dom’s gaze, who was studying me intently, his expression inscrutable. “I see.”
“What does that mean?”
Dom just shook his head, but I could see the tension in his cheeks. The bastard wasn’t even hiding his grin.
“Are you having fun?” I growled.
He burst out laughing. “So, it is a woman after all?”
“Girl.”
“How old is she exactly?”
“Twenty-one.”
“So not exactly a girl anymore. More a young woman.”
“She’s a punk.”
He nodded. “And that’s a problem because…?”
“Because I can’t afford to be distracted right now.” I raked my hands over my face, frustrated. “Not with everything that’s going on. This girl, she’s…” I trailed off, struggling to put my swirling thoughts into words.
Dom waited patiently, giving me the space to gather myself. Finally, I met his gaze head-on. “She’s getting on my nerves. And I can’t let that happen. I need to stay focused, keep my head in the game.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Since when has a pretty face ever thrown you off your game, Vince? You’re not some hormone-addled teenager anymore.”
I nodded. He was right. I had made things bigger than they were. As soon as I had her married off to Matt, I would get to the root of it, and she would be detained and under control.
“Maybe you should take some time to…get your head back on straight? How’s your art going nowadays? You always come out stronger after you spend some time in your studio.”
I scoffed at Dom’s suggestion. Painting had always been my safe space, a way to escape the harsh realities of my world. But I hadn’t allowed myself that luxury in quite some time, hadn’t visited La Dimora, my country home either. “You know I can’t just disappear to the country,” I said, my voice gruff. “Not with everything going on right now.”
Dom fixed me with that knowing look of his. “You’re wound tighter than a cobra cornered by a stray dog. When was the last time you actually let yourself breathe?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my tongue. He was right, as usual. Between expanding the family business, dealing with my father’s scheming, Matt’s injury, and the whole mess with the Donnellys and their hacker daughter, I hadn’t had a moment’s peace in a while.
“Painting always helped you find your center,” Dom continued. “Even if it’s just for a few hours, you need to get your head back on straight.”
Part of me knew he was right. I needed to find a way to channel the turmoil brewing inside me into something more productive than obsessing over Jemma Donnelly. But the thought of leaving the city, of letting my guard down even for a moment, made my skin prickle with unease.
“I’ve adopted a pup.”
Dom stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You what?”
“A dog.”
He looked as confused as I still felt. Why did I even stop the car? What was it about Piccolina—as it turned out, she was a girl and not chipped or registered—that had my heart bleeding for her?
“She was sitting on the street, most likely had been hit by a car, according to the vet.
“You adopted a dog?” Dom said, his voice laced with disbelief.
I chuckled. It wasn’t easy to surprise him, but I’d surprised myself with Piccolina.
“Where is the pup now?” Dom asked.
“My apartment, why?”
He narrowed his eyes. “So, on top of everything you’ve got going on, you’ve taken on the added responsibility of caring for a dog?”
I cocked my head. What was he getting at?
“I was talking about taking a break, not making your life even more complicated.”
“Picca’s not a complication. I hired someone to train her and take her for walks, and she has a pen she’s staying in.” Listening to myself, I could hardly believe it was me saying these words. I sounded like a complete idiot, explaining myself when I never did—to no one.
“I really don’t know what to say to that,” he finally said while staring at me.
I shrugged. I didn’t actually care what anybody said. Picca was mine; so what if my life got more complicated because of her?
Dom was still looking at me, probably contemplating how close to a nervous breakdown I was. “If you won’t take a break, then at least let off some steam.” He nodded toward the mats. “There’s a BJJ tournament tomorrow. I’m sure I could still get you in. I could use some PR… Like you representing the gym; it’s a win-win.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You need PR so badly you’ll resort to selling this as therapy sessions?”
A grin split his face. “Just looking out for the both of us, Fratello. You need something even if you won’t admit it.”
I studied him for a long moment, weighing my options. As much as I hated to admit it, the idea of competing, of letting loose and letting the physical exertion drown out the chaos in my mind, was appealing. But what Dom needed was some exposure. He’d just opened the gym, and it was probably not easy to get it going from the ground up.
And what would make a bigger splash than having this gym flooded with Salvinis? I made a mental note to recruit my brothers. “Sorry, but I’m booked tomorrow. But I’ll send my brothers your way; that should do the trick.”
The lopsided smile on his face told me he was grateful. No words needed.
It had always been this way between us. Even before.
Before my mother’s death, when everything went to hell. Before we both grew up and the burden of being the oldest really settled on my shoulders. And before I set out to get out from under my father’s thumb once and for all.
Maybe a few hours of mindless violence would be exactly what I needed to find my center again.
That or a few hours of mindless fucking.
“Don’t get too excited,” I warned him. “I’ll talk to them, but they’re dicks, so you might not thank me later.”
Dom’s laughter echoed through the gym, and despite myself, I felt the knot in my chest loosen ever so slightly. “How could they be anything else but dicks when they’ve learned from the best?”
I glared at him. “Screw you.” But inside, I already felt lighter. “Let’s grab something to eat; I’m starving.”
Dom grinned. “Yes, let’s wash up first. I’ve waited to ogle your naked butt all week.” He waggled his eyebrows, then slapped my butt.
I shook my head and laughed. He would never change. Which somehow pushed aside the troubles swirling around in my mind and let me focus on what really mattered—my family—which included Dom.