Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Zia eats every bite of food and even orders seconds. My dad nods in approval and pours him another beer. “So, Zia, you’re a businessman, right?”
Charlie scoffs. “His last name is Xander. He is business.”
Zia grins. “My father’s companies. I am simply transitioning into his position to take over. I am hoping to continue to grow the family business and make him proud.”
“Sounds like you’re a good son.” I know there’s more my father wants to ask, so does Zia.
“You can ask. I will only bite your son.”
My dad blushes, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment.
“There are rumors about your family,” he finally says.
“Ah, those . . . They aren’t rumors—well, not all. Most are true.” He shrugs. “I’m not ashamed of where I came from. My father is a good man, and he did what he needed to so he could keep us alive and give me a better future. I’m sure you can understand that.”
My dad nods hesitantly, and the table falls silent, every eye on Zia as they wait for his words. I can’t look away either. Pride and love shine in his gaze. I think being loved by a man like him would make me happy. I wouldn’t need anything else.
“He’s made some questionable choices, and some aren’t quite above the law, but he has never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.
I know what they say about us, that we are a gang or bullies, and I guess we are, but we protect what we claim as ours, and that includes your son and your business now.
I won’t beg for forgiveness or sugarcoat my life.
It’s dangerous, and I have connections that would terrify you, but I am determined to make my father proud and make our businesses legitimate. It was a different world back then.”
“It was.” My father nods. “I have heard those rumors. I have also heard that your father is a good man. All your staff members are rehabilitated ex-cons who couldn’t get a job anywhere else.”
“I believe in second chances, and so does my father,” Zia says.
“Those people committed crimes, but it doesn’t make them criminals forever.
They have paid for it and should be given a chance to have a life, but most won’t.
It was my idea. I saw many of the people I grew up with lost to drugs and desperation after they got out of jail, unable to find honest work, so they had no choice but to turn back to illegal activities to make money to eat.
I don’t go around employing serial killers,” he jokes, and everyone laughs, “but I believe that everyone deserves a chance. It doesn’t matter where you come from.
It matters where you are going and how much you want it, just like you. ”
“Me?” my father asks incredulously.
“Yes. Despite your upbringing, you taught yourself how to box, learning on the streets. When everyone else around you lost hope, struggled to put food on the table, and got boring nine-to-five jobs, you still fought. You followed your dream. You made it happen. That wasn’t easy.
There must have been days when you wanted to give up, but you didn’t.
Now look at you. You have an incredible gym filled with talented athletes.
You have a son who adores you and is following in your footsteps.
You might not have my wealth, but you have your own around you.
” He looks at me. “Nikko has your same drive and determination. I have no intention of standing in the way of him becoming a champion or ruining his dream with my name.” He looks at my father.
“I want to be a man someone like you could be proud of. I want to help the people of our city and give back. I want my father to see it before it’s too late. ”
“Too late?” I ask, frowning.
He swallows, sipping his beer before he speaks.
“My father is sick and has been for a while. Degenerative, nothing anybody can do. It’s why I stepped up.
I couldn’t let his companies, his entire livelihood, go to someone else or be ruined.
I never wanted to be a businessman, but I will do it for him, and I will be the best one I can be. ”
“Your father sounds like a lucky man,” my dad remarks as he covers Zia’s hand with his.
“It’s obvious you love him very much. There is no judgment here, Zia.
We have all done things in the name of love and survival.
We understand it. You are always welcome in our gym, in our family, and at our table. ”
It hits Zia hard, and he stares at my father with this sad kind of relief on his face. Was he really that worried my father would call it blood money and turn him away?
It’s not who Dad is. Like Zia, my dad judges a person on their actions, not on rumors or the past.
“Thank you,” Zia replies. “I’d like that seat.
” He looks at the rest of the table. “I’m having a really good night.
Besides, it’s a relief to be around people who aren’t demanding quarterly numbers and discussing contracts.
” They all laugh, then conversation sparks back up.
My dad looks at me with a smile before pouring Zia another beer.
“Drink up, kid, and eat more. You’re too skinny,” he orders, and I melt.
That’s my dad’s way of caring for you, and it now encompasses Zia.
I couldn’t be more relieved because despite our deal, I care about Zia a lot.
He’s important to me, and he’s come to mean so much.
I don’t know where this will go, but I want to stick it out with him.
Just then, the band kicks it up a notch, the music turning loud, and people rise to dance, some of our boxers included. We turn to watch, just another amazing sight in Mama’s.
As Zia watches them, I watch him. His face lights up, and he sits close to me. He’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts. He’s like a painting you never want to look away from because you know you’ll never stop trying to decipher its many meanings and angles.
That’s what Zia is—a flawless piece of art made to be loved and adored.
His eyes are bright as he watches the couples dance to the song, and his feet tap along to the music. Before I know it, the words escape from my mouth.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask nervously.
He turns to me. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” I blurt. I was so lost in him, the words slipped out, but I take them back. He stares at me for a moment before he leans in, the world disappearing around us.
“Dance with me?” he murmurs softly.
“I don’t know how,” I admit hesitantly.
“You can dance around a ring, so you can dance here.” He stands and offers me his hand, letting me choose, but I’d follow him anywhere.
I lay mine in his, and he yanks me up and toward an open space where he turns to me, laying my hands on his hips as he starts to sway to the beat.
“Just follow me. Move your body in time with mine, and don’t pay attention to anyone else. ”
I move slowly at first, but he grips my hips, slows me down, and fixes me until we sway together. It’s not the intricate dancing everyone else is doing, but he doesn’t seem to care.
We sway along to the music, totally out of sync with everyone else, but we’re lost in our own world.
Even the hooting of my father and friends fades as I stare into his charming eyes.
Zia always looks like he’s on edge, working on his next ten moves, but I’m learning there are only three places where he isn’t—when he’s under me, when he’s asleep, and when he’s dancing with me.
It’s addictive, knowing that the only place Zia can let go and relax is with me, but I try not to read too much into it.
He’s determined to keep me at arm’s length so he doesn’t get hurt again—as if I would ever hurt him.
Hurting him would be like carving out my own heart.
It would kill me as much as it would him.
He constantly surprises me, though, coming tonight when I asked and sitting here with men who use their fists the way he uses words. Everything about him amazes and terrifies me. I’ve never felt like this before.
Every time his eyes meet mine, my heart does this weird clenching thing that isn’t totally pleasant and my stomach seems to roll, my head turning fizzy like when I’ve been punched too hard in the ring.
He disorients me in a way no other fighter ever has, all with that charming fucking smile.
“I know it probably isn’t your usual scene,” I say with a wince.
Grinning, he reaches up and drapes his arms around my neck. “Nikko, don’t ever be embarrassed about your friends, family, and life.”
“I’m not. I’m just worried—”
“Don’t be,” he interrupts. “I love your dad and friends, and this place is amazing. I might have more money than sense, but I grew up around criminals, so a few rowdy boxers and street kids aren’t going to scandalize me.
” Leaning up, he brushes his mouth over my ear, and I shiver.
“Besides, I like seeing you like this—all nervous and worried for me. It’s hot, almost as hot as when you got jealous and possessive over the man who was staring at me earlier. ”
My hands fist at his hips, dragging him closer. “I don’t share,” I mutter.
“Neither do I,” he replies as he nips at my earlobe before leaning back. “You’re not the only one who can fight, Nikko. If anyone tries to touch you, they are dead. Remember that. You are willing to fight for me, but I’m willing to kill to keep what’s mine.”
Desire slams through me, and I tug him closer and press my forehead to his, blocking everyone else from our world.
Actions, not words, are important to Zia.
I think his ex lied to him enough that he no longer believes in them, so I vow to show him as well as tell him so he never doubts what I’m saying.
His eyes flare as he feels my hardness, a devious smile curling his lips, and it only makes me want him more. Zia is a wild thing, not to be tamed, but damn if I don’t have fun trying. “Your dad is sitting right there,” he teases.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble. “That’s the only thing stopping me.”
“I think he’d probably cheer you on. He loves me.” He laughs, and I absorb the warmth of it.
“You joke, but he does.”
“Should we test it?” He kisses me softly before slipping from my arms. They feel empty, and I awkwardly head back to the table and sit, trying to cover my very obvious erection. Zia stops in front of my father and holds out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”
My dad blinks and looks back at me. “I don’t really dance.”
“Like father, like son.” Not taking no for an answer, he hauls my father up, which shocks him, and drags him out with the others. He keeps both hands in his as he dances and moves, forcing my father to copy. The fact that my dad tries and doesn’t just punch Zia and sit down makes me grin.
“I have a feeling Zia is going to be the only person who will ever get your father to do anything,” Charlie scoffs at my side. “If I suggested dancing, I would have ended up knocked out on the floor.”
“He’s hard to say no to,” I agree, unable to help my wide grin as my father barks out a laugh at Zia’s funky dance moves, ones that are ugly and awkward to make my dad feel comfortable.
“I can see that.” Charlie slings his arm around my shoulders. “He’s good for you, good for us. I haven’t seen either of you this happy in a long time. He fits right in. Have you noticed that?”
“I have.” I glance at Charlie. “What if he doesn’t stay? What if he walks away from me?”
It’s something that has been haunting me. I know he isn’t ready for forever, and I’m sure he’s mine. What if we are the right people at the wrong time?
“No point in worrying about the future, kid. Just enjoy the present. He’s here, isn’t he?
Enjoy that. Besides, if he tries to leave, just tie him to your bed or something and talk some sense into him.
” He winks at me as I gape incredulously.
“What, like you haven’t thought about it?
” he teases. “We all saw the way you were looking at him, Nikko, so don’t be so shocked.
Now, go have fun. Don’t worry about tomorrow, just enjoy the evening.
It will come whether you like it or not, so make the most of it. ”
Standing, I offer him my hand. “Then come with me. You’re family too.”
He follows me reluctantly, and so does the rest of the gym until we all dance and sing at the top of our lungs. Everyone is having an incredible night, and through the mass of singing boxers, I find my Zia.
He’s smiling widely, his arms slung around the others as he joins in.
Charlie is right, he was meant to be here with us . . . with me, and I’ll do anything to prove that to him.
I’m not letting him go.