21. Alina
21
ALINA
D ownstairs, when the invitation to join Ciro Del Barba’s party came through, I asked Zarina, my opponent in my first fight, what it entailed. Mix obnoxiously rich people and copious amounts of alcohol, and they start believing they’re entitled to sex with the fighters. “Are we being pimped out?”
She immediately shook her head. “No,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, sex can be on the table. Fight, then fuck, right? But only if you’re interested. Signor Del Barba doesn’t tolerate sexual assault of any kind. I’ve seen him personally snap the wrist of a man who got too handsy.” She splashed some water on her face and applied a coat of mascara. “You don’t have to attend. It’s an invitation, not a requirement. It’s usually pretty fun, though, and the food is always excellent. And Signor Del Barba only stocks the best prosecco.”
Fight, then fuck. I wish. Adrenaline-fueled sex sounds good, but the only man I want to fuck is three hundred kilometers away. I’m only here for the prosecco.
Then I climb the stairs, and…
Tomas is here.
Our eyes connect. The noise of the room fades into the background. I walk up to him, my heart beating so fast that I think it’s going to explode. “Tomas,” I say through dry lips. “You’re here. In Milan.” I’m not dreaming. He’s definitely here, dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen in a black T-shirt and dark-wash jeans, and he looks hot enough to devour. “Why am I not surprised?”
His lips quirk into a smile. “Hello, Alina. Nice fight.”
Last night, there had been a fresh cut on his upper lip. Today, it’s started to heal, and the puffiness has died down. My fingers itch to stroke it. Stroke him. It’s late, well past midnight, and the night feels strangely magical. Anything could happen tonight, and I wouldn’t be surprised.
Maybe I’m not here for just the food and wine after all.
Maybe I do want to fight, then fuck.
His compliment warms me from the inside out. “Well, I’m no Asset.” A waiter wanders by with a tray of prosecco, and I snag a glass. I’m parched. “What are you doing here?”
His fingers close around the stem of my glass. “Drink some water first.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you telling me what to do, Tomas?”
“Risking life and limb in the process.” He takes two pills out of his pocket. “Ibuprofen. You’re going to need it. Take them, otherwise you’re not getting out of bed tomorrow. And I don’t think your new pretty boy teacher is ready to handle a full class load yet.” I glare at him, and he adds, “I have some experience with this.”
He does. As he so convincingly demonstrated last night. “So do I.”
“When was the last time you fought five rounds in a row?” he asks pointedly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Damn him; he’s right. “Smugness isn’t attractive,” I grumble. He hands me a bottle of water, and I swallow my pills. “And his name is Luke.”
His eyes search my face. He’s looking at me like I’m the center of his universe, and it’s an addictive feeling. I want to grab it in my hands and never let go. “I don’t give a damn about Luke,” he murmurs. His fingers trace the cut on my cheek, his touch a soft whisper on my skin. “Does it hurt?”
It feels like it’s burning up. Heat radiates from the point of his touch and fills my body. My heart is racing, my breath feels like it’s coming in small gasps. I want to run away; I never want him to stop touching me. “You never told me why you’re here.”
He drops his hand. “I fight here from time to time. Why are you here?”
“Same reason as you.” What’s happening? My insides feel molten. Achy. I want to grab his hand and put it back on my face, feel his callused fingers on every inch of my body. Last night, I told him I’d regret sleeping with him in the morning. I was wrong. Staring at Tomas, the two of us tucked away in a corner of Ciro Del Barba’s warehouse, the only thing I regret is stopping. “I’m here for the twenty thousand euro cash prize.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to make enough money to buy you out. At twenty grand a week, it’ll take me…” My voice trails off. My brain isn’t capable of math right now.
“Fifty weeks.” A line etches between his brows. “That’s insane.” He blows out a breath. “You can’t fight every week for a year. You’ll get hurt.” He touches my cut again, and my knees turn to water. “You’re already hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You need rest and relaxation. Stop adding things to your plate.”
“You’re being nice to me. Why is that suspicious?”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’m always nice to you. You just don’t notice.”
“Really? You’re not planning to turn the gym around and then sell your stake to the highest bidder?”
Surprise flashes on his face. Ha. This is a first—Tomas Aguilar is at a loss for words. It takes him a few seconds to formulate a response. “You don’t seem shocked.”
“Why would I be shocked? You’ve always made it obvious that this is an investment.” He’s still touching me, his fingers warm on my face, and I feel cared for. Safe. Seen. I should pull away, but instead, I stay exactly where I am. “Still, unlike Simon, you’ve kept up your end of the contract.”
“I’m nothing like Groff,” Tomas growls.
A thrill shoots through me at his tone. Suddenly, I’m picturing him backing me into a corner, pushing my arms over my head, holding my wrists prisoner as he cages me in with his body. His fingers on my lip before he lowers his mouth to mine. His hands tugging my pants down, pushing between my legs to stroke my aching pussy…
I drain my glass of prosecco in one gulp, but the cold liquid does nothing to quench the fire raging inside me. “I have no complaints,” I concede. “So far.”
He exhales a laugh. “So far,” he repeats. “You sound so skeptical. Why are you so ready to hate me, dolcezza?”
I have to hate you. Because if I don’t, I might start falling for you. And you’ve had one step out the door from the moment I met you.
But when he calls me dolcezza, every thought flies out of my brain. Dolcezza. Sweetness. He called me that during our fight last night, and I simultaneously wanted to strangle him and launch myself into his arms. Tonight, it’s definitely Option Two.
I feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on me. I look around to realize more than one person is watching us. Some discreetly, some openly staring. Every single one of Del Barba’s guests is dressed to the nines, and I’m in my gym clothes. “I feel very out of place,” I whisper to Tomas. “Had I known I was going to get invited to a fancy party, I would have borrowed something to wear from Rosa.”
“It doesn’t matter what you wear,” he says as if the words are being torn out of him. “Everyone is looking at you because you light up the room. In a roomful of peacocks, you are a hawk.”
I try to throttle the dizzying current racing through me. “Is that a compliment?”
He starts to reply, but then his expression turns alarmed. “Pretend you’re my girlfriend,” he says urgently, taking a step closer and putting his hand on my chin.
“What?”
“Just go with it. Please.”
“Why? What are you going to give me for my cooperation?”
“Anything,” he says. “Anything you want.” His hands cradle my face. His gray eyes search mine. “Yes?”
“Yes,” I whisper. There’s a tingling in the pit of my stomach. The very air around us seems electrified. Everything about Tomas is making my head spin. Making me dizzy with anticipation.
And then Tomas kisses me.
Have I imagined this? Yes. A thousand times. From the first moment we met, Tomas Aguilar has taken center stage in my fantasies. But the reality? The reality transcends my imagination. His lips are soft and warm. He nibbles my lower lip, his hands roaming over my body as if he owns it. One arm wraps around my back, tugging me even closer until I’m pressed right up against him, my breasts mashed into his chest.
A shiver of pure need runs through me as I kiss him back. I slide my tongue over the cut I wanted to touch, and he growls into my mouth, his grip tightening.
He kisses me as if I’m a dish worth savoring, one morsel at a time, slowly, leisurely, until I am a creature of need and want and desire. He kisses me as if he can’t get enough, as if he’s ready to tear the clothes off my body, lower me to the concrete floor, and thrust into my heat, and I want that.
I want everything he’s offering and more.
He fists my ponytail and sucks my lower lip through his teeth. Desire punches me in the gut, and I moan into his mouth.
“Oh wow,” a woman’s voice says, cutting through my fog of lust. “What a beautiful couple you two make.”
Tomas pulls back, slowly, reluctantly, his eyes dark with heat. He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Alina, meet Maria Isgro.”