“Gemma’s only thirteen,” Diego added. A hint of protectiveness rang in his voice.
Remo nodded, but he was looking at Gemma, then at me. I cocked one eyebrow at him.
“Maybe,” Nino drawled. “Gemma should fight me instead.”
Gemma’s eyes darted to Nino. She didn’t look happier about that. His reputation wasn’t much better than Remo’s. Most people were creeped out by the fact that Nino didn’t have emotions.
Remo’s mouth twitched. Of course, he found it funny when Nino tried to prevent a misfortune from happening.
“That wasn’t the deal,” I said.
Remo tilted his head with the fucking twisted smile that made grown men piss their pants. “You want to fight me?”
Gemma swallowed, but she straightened her shoulders. Her eyes darted to the scar marring Remo’s eyebrow and temple. “I do. That was the deal, like Savio said.”
Diego stared from his sister to me, giving me a meaningful look. He wanted me to interfere because he couldn’t with Remo. But I found the whole thing way too entertaining to stop it.
“Then go ahead,” Remo said.
“The cage,” I reminded Gemma.
A hint of anxiety flitted in her eyes and Diego gripped my arm and whispered harshly, “What’s the matter with you? Are you fucking crazy? This is my little sister. She’s not some fucking toy you can play with!”
“Calm down,” I said.
Diego swallowed, turning to Remo. “Can I ask you to wear a shirt when fighting my sister?”
Remo’s dark brows pulled together.
I snorted. “Don’t tell me this is because of your traditional bullshit?”
Diego glared at me and Gemma turned even redder and stared down at her feet.
Remo nodded, surprising me. Nino walked over to the gym bag and took out a black shirt, which he handed Remo, who pulled it over his head. Remo didn’t play by the rules. He made them. But showing respect to his men no matter how ridiculous their traditions was something he paid attention to.
With a last glance at me, Gemma climbed into the cage, followed by Remo who closed the door with a clang, causing Gemma to jump.
I moved closer, so did Nino and a seething Diego. “What’s Remo going to do?” he asked.
Nino replied before I could, “He won’t hurt your sister. At least not more than she can take.”
Diego’s face turned red and he sent me a scowl. “I swear,” he whispered. “If Gemma gets hurt, you can do your shit alone. Then we’re done.”
He was fucking scared for her. I always forgot that only my brothers and I knew Remo. He was a brutal fucker, merciless and psychotic as fuck, but he wasn’t into humiliating or torturing innocents, especially not underage girls. “Just calm the fuck down. He’ll scare her a bit, that’s all.”
I turned my attention back to the cage where Remo and Gemma were facing each other. It was a ridiculous sight. Gemma was scrawny and barely reached Remo’s chest, but she managed to keep her expression surprisingly fearless. Only her eyes reflected the respect and fear Remo invoked in her. My brother assessed her closely like he always did with his opponents, to find their weakness and determine how to crush them hard and fast, or how to obliterate them as painfully and slowly as he enjoyed. But I had a feeling with Gemma, he was trying to figure out a way to fight her without doing too much damage.
That Gemma had even dared to enter a cage with him came unexpected. Maybe Kitty would surprise me.
I knew Savio thought I’d back out of our deal, but I wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. I wanted to train with him, wanted to show him that I wasn’t a little girl anymore, not a kid whose hair he could tousle.
And yet looking at Remo Falcone made me want to take flight. All those scars and muscles, and his reputation made my pulse pick up. Him covering them with a shirt didn’t make him any less imposing. I had seen a few fights on Toni’s laptop, and all of the Falcones were scary in the cage, but the Capo, he was out of this world brutal. Diego always talked about him like he wasn’t even human.
“How long have you been fighting?” he asked, making me jump. He noticed, mouth twitching, and so had Savio who looked like he was about to start laughing.
I flushed. “Three years.” My gaze lingered around his nose because his eyes scared me too much.
“Not meeting your opponent’s gaze suggests you’re submitting. Are you submitting before the fight has even started, Gemma?” he asked in a low voice.
My eyes snapped up to his. “No.”
It was a struggle holding his gaze. I got why Dad, Diego, and the other men always spoke with so much respect about their Capo.
“Good,” he said. He beckoned me forward. “Attack.”
I took a few steps forward, raising my fists to shield my face. He was too tall. Hitting Diego had already been difficult, but the Capo was even taller. He mirrored my moves, raising his fists up to his face. My stomach was in knots as I tried to gather the courage to hit him.
“Come on, Kitty, show claws,” Savio called.
Remo’s mouth twitched, and I lunged, trying to land a punch in his lower belly. His hand blocked me and that move already hurt like crazy. His other hand went past my defenses and pushed against my stomach. Not a punch, a shove that made me stumble backward and almost lose my balance.
A shove? That wasn’t a move in a cage fight. I glared, angry, and barreled toward him again. I had to use my speed and small body if I wanted any chance. Remo’s smile widened. He tried to grab me, but I dropped to my knees and did a forward roll. I’d planned to use his wide stance to move through his legs, but he grasped one of my ankles and tugged. I landed flat on my back with a gasp, and then he straddled my legs and pressed my wrists together over my head. “Surrender,” he said.
I struggled, trying to get out of his hold.
“Surrender,” he ordered.
I didn’t want to. I was angry at Savio for making me fight his brother, knowing I’d humiliate myself, but I was even angrier at myself for wanting Savio’s attention so badly that I’d agreed to this deal. Remo hadn’t even fought me. He’d toyed with me, just like Savio. This was over so quick it couldn’t be considered a fight. I tried to arch off the ground or free my arms, but his hold was like steel. His fingers tightened, becoming uncomfortable. “You need to know when to surrender.”
“Surrender, Gemma,” Diego called.
I could feel tears of anger rising in my eyes. “No! Neither of you would!”
Remo’s grip on my wrists became painful. “That’s true, but we live with the consequences. You can refuse surrender because you know you’re safe from pain. You’re playing the girl-card.”
“I’m not! You all decide to coddle me because I’m a girl. I don’t mind pain! I want to be taken seriously!” I bit out, struggling harder, tired of being regarded like a cute little kitty.
“Remo,” Nino Falcone said in warning.
I winced under the force of Remo’s grip. “If I tighten my hold further, I’ll snap your thin wrists clean in half. Pride is an honorable thing, but don’t let it get in the way of a wise choice. Your fights will never be ours, so you can’t fight them the same way we do.”
I looked away. “I surrender.”
He released me and got to his feet. Savio and Diego joined us in the cage. Diego gave me a reprimanding look, but Savio nodded as if he was impressed.
“I lost. You don’t have to pretend I did good.” Tears of embarrassment and anger threatened to burst forth, but so far, I’d managed not to cry in front of Savio and I had no intention of changing that. Some girls only cried when they were heartbroken or sad, I wasn’t that lucky. I also bawled when I was angry or exceedingly happy, which led to many embarrassing scenes. Emotionality ran like a curse in our family—at least on the female side. Diego had the emotional range of a brick.
Savio chuckled and exchanged a look with his older brother. Diego rolled his eyes. This was too much. I jumped to my feet and shoved past them, then hoisted myself out of the cage and rushed toward one of the doors, hoping it would lead to a restroom. I needed to splash some water in my face before I lost it… and the remains of my dignity.
I’d wanted to impress Savio with my skills so he’d finally take notice of me, but now they all laughed at me like many did in school because of my clothes and beliefs.
“Gemma, get a grip!” Diego called.
I ignored him. Half the time, he was the reason why I cried anyway. I pushed through the door and into a locker room where I made a beeline for the sink. I splashed water onto my face, sucking in a sharp breath from the cold. It helped with the crying sensation though.
I sank down on one of the benches and stared down at my shabby white sneakers. Diego had worn them when he was eleven. Now it was my turn. The door creaked and steps rang out.
“Leave me alone. I’m not speaking to you anymore. You keep embarrassing me in front of Savio.”
Brand-new stylish black and gold Nike came into view—a limited edition that cost more than Diego’s and my wardrobe together. I wished the ground would swallow me. “That’s what siblings are for, Kitty.”
I wanted him to go away, to spare me the mortification, but even now I craved his closeness. I looked up and his lips twitched. “Why are you here?” The snappiness I was aiming for turned into a hopeful whisper.