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Chapter One
ENZO
“Teach him the ropes, Mullvain,” my uncle ordered, heading out as the mountain of an intimidating man finished tightening the glove around my wrist.
“Aye, sir,” Mullvain replied, his voice a gravelly rumble. Then, he slipped on his own gloves, eyes locking onto mine.
The first blow landed on my cheek with a crack, pain radiating but not overwhelming. It should have been blinding, considering it came from a three-hundred-pound giant. But here I stood, a scrawny fifteen-year-old punk, defiant. I shook it off.
“Hit me back, lad,” he taunted, his Scottish brogue both endearing and infuriatingly incomprehensible.
Italian was where I felt at home—the fluid, rapid-fire pace of it, the expressive arm gestures, the unapologetic volume. English felt foreign on my tongue, a clumsy substitute, though I was adapting.
His words were calming enough, but the amusement in his eyes set my blood boiling. I wanted to hit him. Wipe that smug grin off his face so hard, he’d see stars. But every instinct screamed that it was a trap.
“C’mon, boy. Yer uncle says you need training if you’re going out on your own.” Smack. This time, my left cheek was on fire. “Running away? What’s the matter? Not enough maids to wipe yer ass?”
I swung twice at his head and missed. “I’m not running away,” I huffed, struggling with the weight of the red boxing gloves. Bastards were heavier than they looked. “One day, I’ll be the King of Chicago. My father thinks I need to learn the business. I need to learn to fight.”
“King of Chicago, eh? Wi’ the way ye hit, ye look mair like king o’ the pussies.”
That did it. This time, when I swung again, my fist connected with a satisfying thud. Direct hit. The giant doubled over, and for a moment, fear seized me—had I actually hurt him? But then, his booming belly laugh echoed through the room, shattering my concerns.
“I guess when you’re a wee guy, the best ye can do is hit ma gut.”
For that, I hit him again. An uppercut that stopped his laughter cold. Easy to do when he’s bent over. His smile vanished as he cradled his cheek. “Look at that. Not even sixteen, and I’ll be kicking your ass in no time.”
The amusement in his eyes darkened. “Fifteen years old.” His gaze traveled over my face, the same way my father’s had done countless times. “And already too big for yer britches.” His arm shot out, tapping my belly with so much speed and force, the pain didn’t actually register until my ass was on the floor.
I struggled to breathe as his laughter grew, my embarrassment and annoyance blurring until I found myself laughing too. His left-handed glove ruffled my hair. “Well, if I didn’t owe your uncle a mountain of debt, I wouldn’t do it. You’re too young to be fighting your way to the top.”
With that, I jumped to my feet, chest puffed out. “I’m ready.”
He chuckled, ruffling my hair. “Aye, that ye are, young Jedi. That ye are. And if it gets me out of debt with yer uncle, consider it done.”
My eyes lit up. “So you’ll train me to be the best fighter in the world?”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “Kid, I’m about to make you the deadliest devil that ever walked the earth.”
I bounced on my toes, eager. “Can we start with that move? What you did that put me on the ground. Show me, please.”
With a grin, he stepped back and assumed a fighting stance. “Alright, wee lad, pay attention. This is where it begins.”
The wheels touching down drag me from my thoughts—memories I’d long ago buried. Mullvain. It had been an eternity since I’d heard the name, though his voice has continued to haunt and annoy me in equal measure from beyond the grave.
Looking at Kennedy now, her pink lips swollen from our kiss, her body still trembling with desire beneath my robe, and her eyes burning with enough anger to set the world on fire—I wonder if any sane man would feel something at this point.
Guilt.
Remorse.
Regret.
“How about love? Aye, there’s one ye haven’t tried on for size,” the Scotsman taunts from the darkest corner of my mind.
“Possession is more my speed,” I growl to the empty air.
“I am not your possession,” Kennedy snaps back, tightening my robe around her luscious curves as she crosses her legs.
