Page 12 of King of the Cage

I turned back to the fight. Bran took down competitors with ease, the Lost Boy of Hell’s Kitchen in his element. Enrico, on the other hand, was a pale, trembling mess in the corner, his friends trying to prop him up when it was clear he was shitting himself.

Watching Bran O’Connor, my brother’s enemy, effortlessly dominate whoever went against him was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. My panties were a mess. I had no control over the wild lust raging through me as I watched Bran fight his way through the line of men who’d always secretly thought they’d be a match for an O’Connor.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, my problems fleeing my mind for the first time all night.

If you hook up with him, Elio will kill you,a little voice reminded me. Maybe it was time that my brother realized I was an adult, and I’d do whatever, and whoever, I wanted.

When it was finally Enrico’s go, Bran turned to find me again in the crowd, his gaze hitting mine and then dropping down suggestively. A reminder.Take your panties off, wait in the bathroom, and bend over the sink for me.

I heard the command as clearly as if he’d whispered it in my ear. Elio would probably kill him if he knew what he’d said to me. If he knew what he’d like to do to me… he’d take him out with a sniper rifle while he was drinking his morning coffee tomorrow.

Doesn’t that only make him more interesting, though?

“Can we go to the ladies’ room?” Sol asked.

“Sure, let’s go,” I replied and followed her through the ballroom. I didn’t need to see Bran pound Enrico into the ground. It was a given.

Inside the women’s restroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror over the sink while Sol washed her hands. I was flushed, my eyes huge. Excited. I wasn’t familiar with this breathless look on my face.Interesting.

“You okay?” I asked my friend.

Sol rolled her eyes. “Please, of course I am. I mean, it’s embarrassing for Enrico, but it really does cure a crush quick. I mean, you know he came with a date, right?”

“What? He did? I didn’t see anyone with him.”

He’d come with someone, and Sol had still been hoping he’d chat her up?Oh, Solaria.Terrible taste in men didn’t come much worse than Sol’s.

“I think he ditched her most of the night,” Sol sighed, fluffing her hair.

“Lucky girl,” I muttered and checked my lipstick.

A text came through from my brother. I’d skipped the ceremony back at Casa Nera. He wasn’t pleased.

“I’m heading back out. One more drink for the road. My brother will want us to leave soon,” Sol muttered and smoothed her hair. “Ok, I’ll see you out there. I want to see Enrico bleed.”

I nodded, distracted from following her by Elio’s message.

You should be here, Giada. This is family business. Come as soon as you get this.

Pass.

I struggled to see eye to eye with my older brother lately. Sure, I knew he had some stuff going on. After what had happenedwhen we were young, Elio had been shipped off to the military at a young age, while I was put in the dismissive, judgmental care of a very removed aunt. She’d done her best to teach me how to pretty myself up and cook and look after the men of the house, when all I’d wanted to do was sneak off and work away on the computer the town library had let me use after hours. Those had been the happy times, alone in the library at night, learning to program from thick dusty books that no one else in our backward little village had ever checked out. When Aunt Mena had found me there, she’d taken me home by the ear and locked my room at night. She’d forced me to wear makeup, and dress in her old things, and sit through endless dinners with her husband’s friends. I’d been thirteen years old, and I could still remember every single second of those evenings.

Learn to be a lady, Giada. No one will ever want you if you’re too loud. No man will want you if you read too much, think too much.

The one time my uncle had hit me, it had been for asking too many questions. Those were dark times, and I rarely let myself think about them. Elio hadn’t suffered at the hands of the same educators as I had, but his PTSD from working in the Special Forces was pretty severe.

Look at us, Mom, both Santori kids fucked up beyond belief. Happy days.

As I smoothed my hair and reapplied my lipstick — more to buy time before telling my brother to fuck off than anything else — a sound caught my attention. One of the cubicles was busy, and now, the soft sound of crying drifted out.

The noise tugged my attention. I hated to cry. It was weak, and I didn’t do weak. It had been years since I’d allowed my own tearsto fall. I hated to hear anyone else crying only slightly less than I hated doing it myself.

“Hello? Everything okay in there?” I called out.

The crying stopped.

Silence surged in, but it was charged, like the very air held its breath.

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