I released him then turned on my heel and left. On my way out, I grabbed Gemma’s stuff from behind the bar. She was slumped in the seat but straightened the moment I got into the car. “Did you talk to Toni?”
“I did.” I started the engine, trying to focus on the street and not the way too tantalizing girl beside me.
“But you didn’t tell Diego, right?”
I chuckled. “If I’d told him, he’d be the one driving you home, not me.”
“Yeah,” Gemma agreed with a mirthless laugh. “He’d be chewing my ear off. What the fudge’s going on in your head? How dare you have a fudging life? Yadda yadda.”
I shook my head. “I seriously doubt Diego would use a sweet treat to voice his displeasure.” I slanted her a look. She was smiling in a very Gemma way. Unguarded, honest, not in a way that was meant to make her look pretty, even though she did.
“He tries not to swear in front of me, but that’s my version of events.”
“Fudge, really?” I said. “What’s wrong with a healthy fuck?”
Gemma flushed, and I realized my wording could be taken a different way as well. “I don’t like the word.”
“You’ve never tried it, so how can you know?” Apparently, I was the king of double entendres today.
Gemma looked down at her lap, frowning, and I was starting to worry that I’d upset her when she darted her eyes up once more. “Were you hitting on me in the bar?”
I considered my options. Lying and not get kicked in the balls by Diego, or the truth and seeing Gemma’s delicious blush deepen.
“Yes.”
As expected, she turned a darker shade of pink. “Why?”
I gave her a look. Did she have to ask?
“So,” she said curiously. “You wanted to get me into bed?”
I chuckled. “I wanted to get the girl with that body into bed, not you.”
Indignation flashed in her eyes. “I’m that girl. That’s my body.”
Sadly, it was, which meant I’d never get to have it. “It is, but I’d never consider getting you into bed, Kitty. For one, Diego would have a coronary, second, you are too young and third, your family would force me to marry you if I as much as kiss you, so… no, thank you.”
She turned away, glaring at the side window.
She was pissed, and I wondered which of my words exactly had disgruntled her.
When I pulled into her street, her eyes widened. “Stop here! They’ll hear your engine if you get closer.”
“Oh, really?” I asked and drove straight up to her family’s house, then cut off the engine. The lights came on in one of the windows. This was a middle-class area. No Ferrari engines.
Gemma made herself small in her seat, but her nonna’s face peeked through the illuminated window then disappeared. The lights in another room came on.
Gemma frowned at me. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I think your dad should keep a closer eye on you.”
“Why?”
That was the one-million-dollar question.
Daniele appeared in the entrance door, dressed in a bathrobe and looking livid.
“Happy birthday, Kitty,” I said before she slipped out of the car. She sent me a scathing look then ducked her head when her mother appeared in front of her. Daniele towered in front of my window. I rolled it down and gave him a smile.
“What’s going on here?” he growled.
I narrowed my eyes. “I only brought Gemma home. I thought you’d appreciate her not hanging out with Toni in Roger’s Arena. Maybe you should keep a closer eye on her.”
His gaze zeroed in on Gemma in her sexy clothes and he stalked after her.
It wasn’t even that I was trying to keep Gemma away from other guys. Not only that. Mostly I needed to make sure Daniele kept her away from me because otherwise my friendship to Diego was a thing of the past.
My phone rang on my way back to the Arena.
“What’s the matter, Remo?”
“Where the fuck are you? Roger just called. Nestore’s gone all Mad Man again.”
It was ironic that Remo was the one complaining about someone else acting like a Mad Man. His death fight against two opponents still held the record of the most people throwing up in the Arena. I doubted that would change.
“Almost there.” I hung up, parked the car and jumped out. Then I hurried inside the bar. The stench of vomit lay in the air. One look toward the cage explained why.
Nestore Romano had torn his opponent apart.
Mick and Diego stood off to the side, both looking disgusted.
Roger was in front of the cage, shouting at Nestore. None of those pussies had dared to go inside the cage and actually stop the Mad Man. I pushed past Roger and climbed up on the platform of the cage then opened the door.
Nestore was kneeling on the floor, half bent over the corpse of his opponent. Everything was covered in blood. From the looks of it, Nestore had ripped his opponent’s throat out with his teeth. Remo had to stop allowing this psycho to fight in Vegas, even if he had an unexplainable soft spot for the guy. Or at least he’d have to deal with him and not send me out so he could spend the evening with his twins and wife.
I approached Nestore carefully. My white sneakers were ruined after only a few steps. Annoyed, I grasped his shoulder. He jerked up to his feet and tried to punch me. I blocked the assault then got in his face. “Snap out of it, asshole. Or you’ll be the one with the gaping hole in your throat.”
Nestore’s eyes focused on me, finally. That creepy out of sorts expression freaked even me out. He stepped back and walked past me then climbed out of the cage as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I followed after him. We needed to have a talk, only not in front of hundreds of spectators.
“Who’s going to clean up the mess?” Roger called after me.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t make a fortune tonight. Pay someone to wipe away the shit.”
I stepped into the locker room after Nestore. He was already peeling out of his fighting shorts, still ignoring me. If I didn’t know the guy, I’d have thought it was a show of disrespect.
“This wasn’t a death fight, Nestore. Just like your last fight wasn’t a death fight. You need to get a grip.”
He looked up. “He got into a cage with me. He wanted to die.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he wanted. We didn’t declare it a death fight. That means you won’t kill. We make the rules, Nestore. If you want to rip out people’s throats, fight your battles in L.A., not here. For now, you’re banned from fighting in the Arena.”
“If that’s what my Capo wants,” Nestore said indifferently.
I wasn’t sure if that was what Remo wanted, but someone needed to be the voice of reason here, and as usual, that wasn’t going to be my brother. No one would have allowed a man like Nestore to become Underboss.
I turned on my heel and left Nestore so he could clean up. Outside, Diego was already waiting for me. Judging from the pissed expression, his father had called him.
He barred my way. “Why didn’t you get me when you found Gemma here?”
“Because you were busy disregarding your traditions with Dakota.” Fury flickered across his face. It pissed him off when I reminded him of his hypocrisy, but someone had to.
“My father blames me for it!”
“He’ll get over it. He’s turned a blind eye on all of your nightly activities so far.”
“I can do what I want, but this is about Gemma. I hope you kept your fucking hands to yourself when you took her home.”
I didn’t bother with a reply. Not only because Diego’s interrogation rubbed me the wrong way, but also because I wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t realize that my intentions toward Gemma had shifted.
Mick followed me toward the bar. I slanted him a look.
“You didn’t touch her, right?” His voice held a strange note. I couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or curiosity.
“Why do you care?”
He gave a shrug.
I scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for her?”
He flushed. “She’s the hottest girl in Vegas.”
That was true. “She’s off limits.”
“So, you’re not going to ask for her hand?”
I choked on my drink, chuckling. “Hell, no. I won’t marry anyone.”
“Dad, please,” I said when it was only him and I at the breakfast table. “I’ve been grounded for two weeks. I only wanted to help Toni.”
Of course, Dad had ground me indefinitely after Savio had dropped me off. Mom hadn’t cried, but her eyes had glistened and that was almost as bad. Nonna was still sending me disappointed looks whenever she thought I was being too perky.
Why had Savio shoved his nose into my business? I’d always dreamed about him showing interest for me, but not in this way. I didn’t need another crazy protector. Diego was bad enough.
I was angry, not just because of Savio ratting me out but also because of his words. He’d made it sound as if the thought of marrying me was too horrid to even consider.
Dad narrowed his eyes. “You worked in Roger’s Arena, Gemma. That’s not a small thing. We don’t need those kinds of rumors about you, especially because I’ve started looking for a husband for you.”
I almost choked on my tea. “You promised to wait until I found someone.”