Not that Chris ever cared.
A part of Corrado knew his family didn’t give a shit because his twin was a good indicator of how the rest of them would react if he outed the fact he was bi. It wasn’t so much them as it was the people around them that concerned him at the end of the day.
Being the son of a criminal boss meant Corrado had to factor other people into their lives, as well. People who didn’t share their blood or live in their home but would still think they had some right to speak about his sexuality either way. And it was those people who he didn’t care to let in on his business.
Because they wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. Or, they wouldn’t leave his father alone, or worse, blame him for something that no one could help. Which just pissed Corrado off more because he didn’t need help. He wasn’t sick, and something wasn’t wired differently inside his head.
To them, he would be wrong.
To them, he would be broken.
That’s what they had taught him.
Except he couldn’t be any of those things when he was just born this way. And so, he adopted his simple strategy about it all. If nobody thought to ask, then he didn’t have fuck all to tell them. His family included. They could assume, and he was fine with that, but he wasn’t offering the information up willingly.
“Round two another day, Guzzi?”
Corrado couldn’t even hide the way Alessio’s voice from across the ring affected him as it reached his spot. His back tensed, and all over again, he could feel the man’s mouth coming down on his, and the way his fingers had dug into his chest as those fingerless leather gloves came down against his body. His jaw clenched, and outside the ring, Chris raised an eyebrow again, clearly not missing Corrado’s odd behavior.
“Don’t,” he warned his twin.
His brother just laughed, hit the ropes of the ring with his hand, and stepped back like he was done with the conversation.
“Round two another day,” came a new, deep voice.
Corrado spun around fast to find where the voice had come from. Parts of the gym were shrouded in darkness, the different lines of machines barely visible in the shadows as Alessio had only flicked on two light switches instead of the other fifteen. At the very far right end of the gym, a man leaning against the side of a treadmill watched Corrado.
His hair, a sleek black and braided, fell over broad shoulders. He’d hooked one leg over the other lazily as he used the machine to keep him upright, arms folded over his chest. Corrado couldn’t see the man’s eye color until he moved closer—a dark russet brown. It complimented the golden brown of his skin, too.
“Fuck, Cree,” Alessio said, giving the man a look as he neared the ring. “You could have let me know you were in here when I first came in.”
Cree didn’t bother to give Alessio his attention. “But why, so I could miss the show?”
That time, it was Alessio’s turn to flush with a reddish color. Corrado would have laughed except he realized while he had also been on the mat, in a very compromising position. So, that show included him.
He chose to shut his mouth.
Cree pointed at Corrado. “You.”
He stiffened. “What about me?”
“You have a lot of anger, no?”
“What?”
The man used a closed fist to hit the middle of his chest, coming to a stop right outside the ropes of the ring. “Here, you have a lot of anger. And no place to do anything with it.”
Corrado quieted.
Cree wasn’t wrong.
Chris cleared his throat on the other side of the ring, but Corrado wasn’t paying any attention to his brother because now, something else had his attention.
“How do you know that just by watching me?” Corrado asked.
Cree grinned a bit. “A talent.”
“That’s a non-answer.”
“Smart, too,” he said, finally directing a comment at Alessio. “And someone willing to put up with your shit. Congratulations on finding that, Les. I never thought you would.”
Alessio opened his mouth, but Cree was quick to put up a hand to shut the other man up before he could start. He snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, which made Cree smirk before he turned back to Corrado.
What just happened?
He felt like he missed something.
“Do you know, Corrado,” he said, tipping his head in Alessio’s direction, “that this one has a tendency to ... pick fights when he wants attention? Oh, he won’t say that. He doesn’t admit that’s what he does.” Cree pointed at his temple and narrowed his eyes with a suspicious smile as he added, “But I know because I watch him a lot. I watch everyone a lot. It’s how I know what someone needs to break and make them.”
“Would you fuck off some—”
“Quite enough from you,” Cree told Alessio without even looking away from Corrado. “And you, Corrado, you have a lot of anger and nowhere to do something with it. I think you would learn a lot here.”
Corrado blinked. “What?”
“I thought what I said was quite clear.”
“Cree, you can’t be fucking serious.”
“I am,” he returned to Alessio, “but it’s not about you, so shut up.”
“Cree.”
The native man didn’t turn away from Corrado even as Alessio fumed at the other side of the ring. Corrado felt stupid—shocked, really.
“You mean here, at The League?”
Cree shrugged. “Why not?”
Alessio made a harsh noise under his breath, taking Cree’s attention away from Corrado for a second. “If you think some privileged fuck from—”
The man waved a hand at Alessio like he was dismissing him as he said, “Yes, I can see you have some issues you need to handle, too, Les. I’ll come back to you.”
That shut Alessio up fast.
It almost made Corrado want to ask what it was about Cree that clearly put Alessio on edge, but really, he figured he already knew. The man just seemed to know what everyone’s bullshit was before they could even open their mouth and try to lie about it.
Cree came back to Corrado. “Well, what do you think?”
“Corrado,” Chris said from behind him.
He stayed silent.
Considering ...
“And what’s happening in here?”
Corrado didn’t need to turn around to know his father had stepped into the gym. He continued staring at Cree, all the while, thinking about the man’s offer. Cree answered for him.
“Actually,” Cree said, looking to the side of Corrado’s legs from his position on the floor below the ring to speak to Gian from across the room, “I was making an offer to your son.”
Gian didn’t miss a beat. “What kind of offer?”
“To join The League.”
“Cree,” came another voice.
Dare.
The guy his father had been talking to earlier.
Dare’s simple statement of Cree’s name sounded like a warning, but clearly not one Cree intended to heed as he only stared between Gian and Corrado.
“Corrado?”
At his father’s call of his name, he glanced over his shoulder. For some reason, he was worried then that he might find disappointment in his father’s eyes. Even though Gian never outright told Corrado what he had to do—be a made man like him, or anything else he wanted to be—a part of him still wondered what his father really felt about it all.