Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Hurt So Good
Raf
“Who the fuck does she think she is,” I grunt to myself between punches as I assault the red boxing bag in front of me at our long-time boxing haunt, Johnny’s.
I’ve been coming here with Marco and my brothers Seb and Luca since we were teens, and the tradition to meet at least a few times a week has stuck.
Sweat drips down my face and heat surges through my muscles, but I can’t be sure if it’s from the ferocity of my workout or my fury as I replay the events of today.
Chiara’s parting words echo in my mind: Raf, who hurt you?
The blaring rock music is doing nothing to drown out the sound of my name on her lips, her husky voice playing on a loop in my ears.
What does that entitled, spoiled Mafia brat know about the real world?
I doubt she’s worked a day in her life, let alone possess the maturity of life experience to truly understand the implication of the question she asked me.
What it means to hurt. How it feels to be hurt by someone you trusted implicitly.
How that hurt changes you irrevocably. But, what was worse than the sting of her parting words, or the way they carved a path straight to my deepest insecurities, rendering me speechless, was the tiny electric thrill that zipped through me as she sauntered out of my office without a care in the world, taking her big attitude and petite but sexy-as-hell curves with her.
She made it quite clear I had her attention and had zero qualms giving as good as she got. I’ve made sure my reputation for being a prickly bastard precedes me, but she was completely unbothered by my abrasive demeanor and words laced with disdain.
Even as impenetrable as I pride myself on being, there was no denying the fact that the push and pull between us was charged.
Dare I admit, it was the closest I’ve felt to attraction to a woman in a long time.
It’s this uneasy discovery that rendered me useless for the rest of the afternoon and led me to implode silently—which led me straight here to Johnny’s to hit the shit out of something in hopes that I can just forget this whole fucking day.
Forget her. Box the memory of the mischievous gleam in her green eyes—and the wicked grin that spread across her sweet face when she called me Big Bad Raf—right out of my system.
I pound the bag furiously, not letting up. Focusing on my pants and grunts in hopes this will stifle the husky static that still lingers in my ears. A sour taste permeates my mouth as the shrill voice of my sub-conscious screams at me. You weren’t just prickly, Raf; you were plain fucking mean.
“Raf! Raf! Fuck, man! What did that bag ever do to hurt you?”
I snap my head towards the voice. Seb and Luca are watching on in bewilderment.
What in the actual fuck is wrong with everyone today.
Did a memo go out that said, Please poke the bear?
Or if it’s Chiara behind the memo, poke the wolf.
I shake my head again. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about her.
Maybe she’s a witch. My brothers are still staring at me intently like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. And perhaps I have.
“What? Can’t a guy box in peace without the running commentary?
” I snap between heavy pants. This was the whole reason I didn’t put the call out for anyone to join me.
Yet here they both are. Our personalities may be very different, but we all have one thing in common—we find solace in smashing it out in the boxing ring.
“Dude. You really need to do something about that pent-up sexual frustration. It’s aging you,” teases my younger brother, Luca, who, just like she-who-shall-not-be-named, has zero respect for boundaries and zero filter.
“I’ve been told I have a way with the ladies.
If you need some help finding a suitable candidate to help you fuck it out of your system, then all you need to do is ask. ” He winks at me and smirks. “Nicely.”
If looks could kill, he would be dead. I don’t possess those magical powers presently, so I lunge for him, only to be met with Seb’s firm hand at my chest stopping me in my tracks.
He takes in my sweat-drenched face and heaving chest with a shrewd stare and glares at our baby brother in a silent warning.
Luca just shakes him off good-naturedly and throws a challenge out at me instead.
“C’mon you grumpy fucker, let me glove up and I’ll let you have at me.”
“You’ve got a death wish,” Seb mutters. “Anyone heard from Marco today?”
As if on cue, a message notification cuts off my music.
I pull off my gloves and pick up my cell, seeing a message from the man in question.
Marco:
Can you tell me why the fuck I’m spending my afternoon in Louis Vuitton tie shopping for you?
Please elaborate. I don’t follow.
Marco:
Chiara dragged me into Louis Vuitton telling me she had to get you a new tie. I told her that you’re a rich prick and can afford to buy yourself one. But she said she owes you. What’s the story, brother? *Eyes emoji*
No story. Also, you’re the one responsible for bringing the crazy into the office, so you only have yourself to blame for your current predicament.
Marco:
Well, you sure as shit left an impression on her. I’ve never seen someone so excited about shopping for ties. She just squealed loud enough to scare the whole store because she “found the one.”
Please don’t let her purchase that tie.
Marco:
Too late *Crying laughing emoji*
Marco:
I should probably warn you she intends on hand-delivering it to you too.
I curse internally but don’t bother responding. I just toss my phone off to the side and hop back into the ring.
“C’mon, baby brother, let’s see if you can fight as good as you can supposedly fuck.”
Luca starts jimmying around the ring, hooting and hollering. For the moment, his smart-ass behavior is just the distraction I need—especially from the devil of a woman who came crashing into my life today, proving exactly why she’s the type of distraction I need to avoid at all costs.