Page 10 of Corrado

He was lucky that he didn’t find confusion or pain in his sexuality swinging both ways like he knew some did when they realized they were bisexual. Here, he had been free to explore and find out what it meant to be a sexual being with varied interests. No one ever stepped in to shame him as long as it was consensual, and he was being safe. That was all Dare ever cared about when it came to Alessio.

“Are you listening to me?” Corrado asked.

Alessio clenched his teeth to stay quiet as he finished wrapping up his fists before slipping the leather, fingerless gloves overtop. Turning to find Corrado lingering in the far corner of the ring, ready to go, he used his teeth to tighten the wrist straps on the gloves.

“Are you used to just saying something, and people jumping to give you what you want?” Alessio asked back.

Corrado’s brow dipped before he scowled.

Fuck.

Why’d he look good doing that, too?

Alessio ignored the clenching of his gut as he stepped up into the ring and dipped under the ropes to get into position. He figured this sparring match probably wouldn’t end well for Corrado, all things considered. He doubted the guy knew he’d been training with The League from the time he was twelve.

Weapons.

Fighting.

Recon.

Killing.

All of it, he could do.

And he was only seventeen.

He doubted Corrado could say the same.

“What is it that gets under your skin the most?” Corrado asked back. “The fact that I have money, or the fact you don’t?”

Alessio sucked air through his teeth.

Damn.

That was a good one.

Pretty boy mafia prince could cut with words, and Alessio liked that way more than he was willing to admit. His respect notched up a bit—this would have been incredibly boring for him if after everything, Corrado just laid down and took the shit Alessio threw at him. When someone became uninteresting to him, Alessio was quick to move the fuck on.

Not right now, though.

“You assume I don’t have money,” Alessio returned.

He did.

Probably not as much as Corrado, but he had enough to be more than comfortable. The longer he stayed with The League, the more money he would have, too. Not that money had ever been a motivating factor for his choice to train here. He’d gone for years without money—it was just paper to get someone by, nothing more.

He’d be fine either way.

Corrado shrugged before he tugged his T-shirt up over his head, and then tossed it to the side of the ring. Even from all the way across the ring, Alessio couldn’t help but admire the hard lines that made up Corrado’s body—or how those muscles shifted as he moved from one foot to the other.

Shit.

Yeah, he needed to move away from that thought.

Now.

“I say it,” Corrado returned, “because you keep needling at me like something about me pisses you off. Maybe it’s my money, privilege … my last name. Which one is it?”