Page 53 of SINS & Temptation

Not that I’ve seen it myself, but I know when he fights for my uncle, all the guards place their bets on him. I might have thrown in a few bets myself.

In this world, even a fifteen-year-old can place bets, and not because I’m a D’Angelo. It’s because a C-note is a C-note, no matter whose hand it comes from.

Mullvain always wins. That’s why my uncle has him teaching me to fight. Not to turn people into hamburger meat, but to protect myself and what’s mine.

“Good,” Andre says, his voice cold and calculated. “Because if you did, you’d have a hard time with this next fight.”

“Why?” Mullvain asks, a wary edge creeping into his voice.

There’s a pause before my uncle speaks, a smug grin forming on his lips as he considers his words. “So we all can see what you’re made of. And to show that nephew of mine how our world works.”

Mullvain’s defiance falters. “Enzo is impressionable,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

My uncle gathers his keys and heads out the door as I duck behind a massive oak cabinet. “That’s what I’m counting on,” he says, his voice cold and calculated.

With that, Uncle Andre and his henchmen blow past me, their footsteps heavy and rushed. Mullvain lingers behind, seething. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping out from behind the cabinet and quietly shutting the door.

He sees me and forces a smile, the kind you give a three-year-old. “Nothing, boy. Ye shouldn’t be here. Yer uncle’s in a mood. Best ye stay out of sight.”

I step closer, my curiosity burning. “Why would you tell my dad I was here?”

He blows out a breath. “Yer Da’s worried about you. I would be, too, if I had a son camping out in a lion’s den.”

“Like you worry about your daughters?”

His face loses all its color, going pale. “How do ye know about them?”

“I saw the picture on your phone once. Two girls.” When his frown deepens, I step even closer. “You can trust me. I won’t say a word.” I hold up my hand solemnly. “I swear. We have a pact. Like Fight Club?”

A cautious smile curls his lips. “Ye know the first rule of Fight Club.”

“You do not talk about Fight Club,” I recite, puffed up and serious. He rubs my hair, and there’s a closeness between us. A bond. A protectiveness I can feel emanating from him.

He’s protective of me—a great grizzly adopting a wolf. A protectiveness I adopt, too.

“Can I see them? Your girls?” I ask, though it’s really just the one girl I want to see.

“Our secret?” he asks, holding his hand up like he wants to arm wrestle.

I latch onto it and grip it tight. “Our secret.”

He opens his phone and scrolls to an image. There are two of them, but I can’t take my eyes off the little freckled girl with dark hair and eyes like his. Her smile is slight, and my mind spins with all the ways I could make it wider. Cannoli? Or maybe by fighting as well as her dad. “She’s pretty,” I blurt out, sounding like a dork.

“Aye, they both are.” He throws me a mock stern look. “Don’t ye be getting any ideas. From what I’ve heard, her Da’s a mean bugger.” He winks and goes to put the phone away.

Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out to his. “Is there another picture of her?”

“Maybe. Ye been practicing the series of jabs I showed ya?”

His question instantly flips a switch. He lights a cigar as I run through the moves, pushing power and force with each punch, ending in a tornado kick I’ve been itching to show off.

He chuckles when I fumble the landing but still applauds. “All right, young Jedi.” He pats me on the chest. “One more picture, then it’s back to practice.”

Bzzz.

Bzzz-bzzz.

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