Page 27 of The Fighter

I searched everywhere for Teresa. I went to the police; I tried to find her family—nothing worked. I raged and mourned, and eventually, I made my peace with her disappearance. I had no other choice.

A week ago, I did an online DNA test. Imagine my shock when it said I had a match.

You. The daughter I never knew I had.

I don’t know why Teresa hid you from me. Chances are, I will never know. I have spent the last week wrestling with the knowledge of your existence, and I find myself angry—furious— that I never got a chance to watch you grow up. To be your father in more than blood.

This letter will probably come as a shock, and I don’t want to pressure you for a relationship. But I’d love to meet you. Show you the beach where your mother and I met, take you to the apartment where we lived together. I’d love to get to know my daughter.

I’ve included my address and phone number. I’ll be waiting for your call.

Your loving father,

Vidone

I stare at the letter in shock. Picking up the photo and studying it, my heart races. It’s a photo of my parents. They look so young. My dad has dark hair and a bump on his nose. Just like me. I can’t make out the color of his eyes, but he’s smiling into the camera, and there’s a dimple in his chin. Just like mine.

Sudden tears fill my eyes.

All my life, I’ve wanted to know my father.

And now he’s only a phone call away.

18

TOMAS

Ilike sex as much as the next man. When a woman I’m wildly attracted to invites me to bed, you know what I should say?

Yes.

Instead, I turned her down. What the hell was that about? Two hours later, I’m still cursing myself for that boneheaded move. She was available and willing, and so was I. It was too late to want to keep things professional between us. The moment I entered the ring, I knew it. There was no way to fight Alina and keep the sexual attraction at bay. None at all.

So why the hell did I turn her down?

Because I’m an idiot. That’s why.

But when she said she was going to regret inviting me to her bed in the morning, something inside me had balked. A sour taste filled my mouth when I imagined waking up next to Alina and watching the sleep in her eyes be replaced by awareness and horror.

That’s not what I want. Not at all.

Spend the night? Waking up next to her? What the fuck? Since when do you do those things?

Maybe it’s a good thing that I turned her down and got the hell out of the gym.

Working remotely on Alina’s books is a smart thing.

It would be an even better idea to hire Luigi to fix the books and wash my hands off the gym completely.

But as much as I should make that call, I find that I can’t do it. I don’t want to.

I wasn’t planning on heading to Milan again. But the restlessness is back and stronger than ever. At ten at night on Saturday, I find myself pulling into the same warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

It’s significantly more crowded tonight than it was on Thursday. “What’s going on?” I ask Renzo when I make it inside.

“The women fight tonight,” he replies. “You forgot? Those repeated blows to the head taking its toll?” He grins. “That’ll make the boss happy. He’s still bitter about some investment opportunity you stole from him.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t steal it—del Barba could have invested too. He chose not to.”

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