While smiling like Dimitri fell right into his trap, Rocco says matter-of-factly, “Maddox is here about Demi. Shall I leave? Or can I join in on his beatdown?”
I give Rocco a look as if to say I’d like to see you try, before I move closer to the desk Dimitri is seated behind. I know who he is, what he’s associated with, and just how fucking dirty his hands are, but I’m praying like fuck his parents instilled some kind of values into him.
My strides slacken when it dawns on me how stupid I’m being.
Col Petretti isn’t just Dimitri’s uncle. He’s his father. He raised him.
The return of my smarts has me switching things up. “I’m here to get your permission—”
“To date my cousin? No fucking chance.” I assume Dimitri is taking the high road. I should have known better. That isn’t how his family operates. “Who she dates isn’t up to me. She isn’t on my payroll.” A glint darts through his eyes, but he’s quick to shut it down. “If that’s all.” He nudges his head to the door I just walked through, wordlessly giving me my marching orders.
“It isn’t.”
I step closer to him, grinning when Rocco announces his dislike at me not accepting no as an answer by ramming his gun into the back of my head. “The man said no, Ox. Don’t make me splatter my new shoes with your brain matter. I only bought them last week.”
I act as if he never spoke. “I wasn’t asking permission to date your cousin. I was approached by a fight promoter.” That’s a stretch, to say the least, but when you’ve got nothing, you must work with what you have. “A high-profile event is coming up. I want permission to fight at the event.” When confusion darkens Dimitri’s eyes, I pretend he takes more than a share of my profits each month. “If I get injured, I can’t fight for you. Figured you wouldn’t take too kindly to that, so I thought it would be best to seek permission instead of assuming.”
Dimitri drops his pen onto the paperwork in front of him before he slouches low into his chair. I’m confident he’s calling my bluff, so you can imagine my shock when he asks, “Who’s the promoter?”
“Your father,” I answer without pause for thought. I don’t have time to pussyfoot around, and in all honesty, I’m reasonably sure Dimitri would see through any bullshit I attempt to dangle in front of him.
Dimitri shakes his head. “You can’t fight for him and me on the same night. You might be good, Ox, but you’re not that good.”
“That’s the thing,” I reply, stepping even closer. “His fight is tonight.” Dimitri’s fights are held on Thursdays and Fridays. Today is Saturday.
“Tonight?” When I jerk up my chin, Dimitri snaps out, “Smith…”
I peer past my shoulder, anticipating for someone other than Rocco to be standing behind me. I’m shit out of luck. There’s only one fool with his gun directed at my head. That fool is Rocco.
After a couple of seconds staring into thin air, Dimitri locks his icy blue eyes with mine. “Where is the fight scheduled to take place?”
“That’s another thing.” I swallow to eradicate the annoying nerves in my voice before saying, “I lost the card he printed the details on.” When Dimitri’s jaw grits, I talk faster, “I know it is in Hopeton and that I have to arrive at nine o’clock sharp.” Rocco snickers when I add, “I was hoping you could fill in the blanks.”
Dimitri leans forward until his elbows are propped on his desk. “Let me check if I have this right. You want me to grant you permission to fight after I unearth the location where the event is taking place, even with you being a no-show at my events both Thursday and last night? Is that right?”
Rocco calls me a fucking idiot under his breath when I lift my chin. “You need to learn the art of ass-kissing, my friend,” he suggests at the same time Dimitri says, “Not interested.”
“I’m willing to negotiate. State your terms.” When he orders Rocco to remove me from his office, I shrug out of his hold. He may have a gun, but I have unquenched desperation. There’s nothing more potent than that. “I’ll do anything. I’ll give you a bigger cut of the proceeds. I’ll even compete in your Friday night schedule if that’s what it will take for you to help me. State your terms, and I’ll agree with them.”
Dimitri slices his hand through the air, wordlessly requesting for Rocco to stop hauling me out of his office. “You want her that bad?”
Some may call me a fool for immediately nodding, but I can’t help it.
Lying isn’t my forte.
“All right,” Dimitri breathes out many prolonged seconds later. “But it’ll cost you more than a bigger slice of the pie.”
Having nothing to lose, I once again nod.
16
Demi
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I murmur to my reflection in the mirror.
I’ve scrubbed my face clean, filled in the gash under my right eye with liquid foundation, and done up my face as if I’m about to spend the night on the town, yet, only now is the real show about to begin.
I had hoped my life would never reach this stage, but I can no longer walk around wearing a blindfold. Everyone knew my life would eventually take this path, even Maddox. That’s why he fought so hard to make me forget last night, and it’s the very reason I fled the instant he snuck out of his room this morning.
My uncle’s monarch sucks the blood out of the veins of the heirs born to rule it, so imagine the damage it will cause a man not programmed to jump on cue. Maddox may last a couple of months in this realm, perhaps even a year, but eventually, it would wear him down as it has me.
I refuse to let that happen.
I swung the bat.
I missed the ball.
Now I’m hoping like hell I don’t punch out.
After ensuring my face is half presentable, I pat down the hem of my floral dress before exiting the washroom. Like they do every time I’m in their vicinity, the men of my uncle’s crew wolf-whistle and call me derogative names. A handful of them even go as far as fanning up my dress like I have no rights whatsoever.
I’d slap away their hands, but since that only ever encourages them to badger me more, I act as if they’re not in the room with me. My focus is on one man and one man only, and when I reach him, I’m reasonably sure even more unwanted attention will be directed my way.
“You’re early,” my uncle says with a disgruntled grunt. “Is he done with you already? Why am I not surprised?”
“Can I speak with you? I-In private, please.” The stutter of my words is understandable. It isn’t every day a woman puts herself in this predicament, much less with a man who has the same blood as her. “Perhaps in your office? It’s quieter there.” I gather his hand in mine like mine aren’t shaking a million miles an hour before peering at him like he’s a saint, and I’m a sinner willing to do anything to be granted a stay of execution. “Please. I’m sure it won’t take more than a minute.”
Fear encroaches me from all angles when he drags the back of his index finger down my bruised cheek. He isn’t remorseful he hurt me. If anything, he’s turned on by the fact he marked me so well, my welts are still noticeable twenty-hours later.