20. Tomas
20
TOMAS
A lina is new to Ciro’s ring. The oddsmaker doesn’t know anything about her except that she teaches MMA classes in a struggling gym in Venice. Davide is a retired fighter, old-school in his thinking. In his opinion, those who can’t do, teach.
He sets the odds of Alina winning the tournament at twelve to one. And I take advantage.
Ciro Del Barba is not happy when Alina hoists the belt up at the end of the night. He glares at me as I collect my winnings. “Damn you, Aguilar,” he says. “Ten thousand euros. A gym instructor. How the hell did you know? You can’t possibly be familiar with every fighter in Venice.”
Del Barba will make it his mission to find out everything about Alina. By this time tomorrow, he’ll know as much about her as humanly possible. “Not every fighter, no,” I say with a grin. I just won one hundred and twenty thousand euros of Ciro Del Barba’s money. Dante is going to get one hell of a laugh out of this. So is Antonio. “But Alina and I co-own the gym she teaches at, and I’ve seen her fight.”
“That’s insider information,” he accuses.
“Groff’s is open to the public,” I reply. “Nothing is stopping Davide, or you, or anyone else from walking in there and taking a class.”
Del Barba is richer than God, but he didn’t get that way by losing money on sports bets. If Alina fights again, the odds won’t be anywhere as lopsided. But he also isn’t a sore loser. “Fair enough,” he concedes with a shrug. “Enjoy your windfall.” He turns to one of his guards, hovering unobtrusively in the shadows. “Lara, would you invite Signorina Zuccaro up, please, as well as the other fighters?” He waits for her to leave before giving me a sly smile. “Is she the woman you’re dating?”
“What?” I ask before remembering that’s the line I used on Maria, Ciro’s handsy friend in the red dress. “No, I’m not dating anyone; I just said that to get rid of your friend. Alina and I are business partners, nothing more.”
“Are you sure?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I was watching you during that last fight. You looked very involved . Concerned, even.”
He’s fishing, and I’m definitely not going to take the bait. “Alina is the face of the gym, and she teaches the majority of the classes. If she’s hurt, I’ll have to scramble to find a replacement.”
His eyes dance with laughter. “I thought you only invested in the stock market, Tomas. Buying a gym—that’s new. Why’d you do it?”
“It’s important to diversify,” I lie through my teeth.
“If you say so.” He looks unconvinced. “And here she is.” He makes a sweeping gesture toward the top of the stairs. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you tonight’s champion. Please put your hands together for the beautiful and lethal Alina Zuccaro.”
The room bursts into applause, and Alina freezes in her tracks. She scans the room, taking in the dozens of beautiful people dressed as if they were at a charity gala, not at an MMA ring in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Milan. She sees the linen-covered tables against the wall, overflowing with champagne, caviar, and much more, the carnival that Ciro Del Barba surrounds himself with.
She takes a step forward and comes into the light. She’s had time to take a quick shower and change into her street clothes. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings that hug the curve of her ass and an oversize Groff’s T-shirt with a wide neckline that slides off her shoulder. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, her face freshly scrubbed. No makeup except for a slick of lip gloss across her soft, full lips.
There’s a cut on her right cheek. Another cut on her arm. Bruises and injuries are part of fighting, and I’m used to them.
But when I see Alina hurt, everything inside me rebels.
Then, in that overcrowded room, her eyes find mine. For an instant, they’re wide and surprised, and then she moves.
Toward me.
“Tomas,” she says, crashing to a halt in front of me. Her words tell me she’s pissed; her eyes tell a very different story. “You’re here. In Milan. Why am I not surprised?”