The F King: A Bad Boy Romance(85)

Ross stood up to shake Enrico’s hand, but I stayed in my seat. Enrico introduced the stranger.

“This here’s Renato Picolli, he’s a good friend of the family, I want you to show him the same respect. Ken you know already, I understand.”

“Picolli? Like from Port Magnus?” Ross asked, shaking his hand. “Sounds like a warzone over there these days.”

Renato shrugged. “Hey, that’s the business.”

The two of them shook my hand too, but the dirty look I gave them didn’t escape their notice, and the thin veneer of friendly bullshit got that much thinner. Enrico sat in the chair next to me and Renato sat in the chair next to him. There were none left for Ken, so he leaned against the wall by the door.

“So what can we do for you?” Ross asked.

“The boss was wondering why he didn’t get no invitation to your wedding,” Enrico asked.

“Didn’t realize we were that close,” I said. “Never met Gavino, after all.”

“That’s Don Bertolini to you,” said Renato.

I gave him a disdainful look and shook my head. “Listen, the marriage is a sham. There’s this new guy in Media Relations over at NHBFC, he made his career in pro wrestling, so they’re adding a whole song and dance around the fights now, trying to boost ticket sales and all. I didn’t invite anybody, they handled everything.”

“I fuckin’ knew it! What did I tell ya?” Enrico slapped Renato’s arm with a backhand. “I said, this kid’s a fuckin puss-hound, no way he’s settled down, I bet he’s already fucked this bitch’s mother and grandma too, if she’s up for it.”

If he said anything else, I didn’t hear it for a few seconds because of the blood pumping in my ears. I didn’t particularly care what he said about me, I’d certainly earned that title at least, but to hear this worthless fuck talking about Skylar filled me with senseless, wordless rage.

The thundering of my heart in my ears faded away as I started to talk. “Listen to me very carefully. That’s the last time you ever talk about Skylar. You understand?”

Enrico and Renato looked at me as if I’d started speaking in tongues. Ross held his hands up, trying to calm everybody down. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Renato Picolli piped up.

“Hey, don’t forget whose bitch you are, kid.”

“Who the fuck do you think…” began Enrico.

I shot to my feet, towering over them with fists bunched up at my sides. “You wanna find out who the fuck I think I am?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ross was frantically trying to put out a fire.

Renato stood up and pushed his chair away, reaching inside his jacket. By the door, Ken already had his hand on his gun, still in its holster. He was looking at me with wide eyes, frantically shaking his head ‘no’, as if he desperately didn’t want to have to make that choice. Hell, for all I knew, he might shoot one of these motherfuckers for me.

Enrico recaptured his cool and stood up between Renato and me. “Sit the fuck down. Everybody.”

Nobody moved.

“Maybe not such a fake marriage, huh? I’ll remember that,” said Enrico. “Look, I understand. Nobody disrespects your girl. I can respect that. I wouldn’ta said anything if I thought she meant anything to ya, OK? Fuckin’ OK? Can we get back to business now?”

I slowly lowered myself to my chair. Around the room, asses came back into contact with seats and hands left guns.

“So we’ve been thinking, you’ve got this big high profile fight comin’ up and we’ve kinda left you to your own devices for a while, so it might just be time to make some money.”

The three of them looked at me and I held my tongue, looking right back at Enrico. When I didn’t say anything, Enrico turned back to Ross.

“So Mr. Strong-But-Silent over here gets submitted in the third. You’ll get your usual fee.”

“No,” I said.

“Are you seriously gonna let…” Renato started to ask Enrico.

“Kid, you’re fuckin’ up the wrong tree here. You’ve always been mouthy, but we’ve never taken it too seriously, you boxers, MMA fighters, whatever, you gotta think you’re the baddest motherfuckers on the planet or you wet the bed at night and can’t perform in the ring or some shit. Don’t make me give the order that fucks up your world just to remind you who you work for.”

There’s fifty ways I could kill you before you knew you were dead, cunt, I thought.

“Once I beat Sanchez, I get a shot at Southgate. The title,” I said.

“What the fuck do I care?” asked Enrico.