Page 9 of King of the Cage

He scoffed. “Sweet? More like desperate,” he sneered.

I saw red. My hand was swinging before I could stop it, and it would have landed hard, if not for a huge paw latching on to my wrist and stopping it mid-flight.

Bran towered over me, holding my hand effortlessly in his huge palm.

“No fighting at weddings, remember? Even I know that little nugget of mob etiquette.”

“He’s asking for it,” I argued back, trying to free my hand.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble for this one, he’s not worth it,” Bran continued.

“He insulted my friend, and that’s worth it to me. If people like us don’t have loyalty, then we don’t have anything.” I echoed an expression I’d heard time and time again. My father’s voice whispered through my head, straight from the past. I hadn’t said those words in decades. They were the words of a hypocrite, and yet, it turned out I still believed them.

Bran stared down at me, his eyes seeing far too much in that moment.

Enrico clearly got tired of the lack of attention, because he stepped closer and pushed against me. “Let her fucking try and hit me, I need a laugh.”

“Giada! What’s going on?” Sol appeared at my elbow.

Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Nothing. We’re leaving.” I turned away and tried to grab Sol’s hand.

“I don’t think so,” Enrico snarled, snatching my free wrist. “You’ve insulted me.”

Losing my patience, and realizing that there was no way to get out of this without Sol finding out what a piece of shit Enrico was, I gave up trying and turned back to him.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Sepriano… just be a loser, like you usually are,” I murmured to him.

His dark, angry gaze raked over me contemptuously. “This is why you’re chronically single, Santori. No one wants more than one night with a bitch.”

A lance of hurt pierced my chest, but I pushed it aside.

I didn’t let guys like Enrico hurt me.

I didn’t let guys hurt me, period. In my world, it was kill or be killed, hurt or be hurt.

I was an expert at hurting.

“I’d rather be a bitch than a disappointment… isn’t that what all your exes say? They told you to put it in, but you already had… I even heard the working girls at the strip club by the highway give you a discount, since they barely notice when you’ve stoppedby.” My sweetly sarcastic tone held acid, and I flung it at Enrico as hard as I could. Words were the only way I could hurt him back tonight, here at the wedding. But in the future? This fucker was on my list. Since I had no other way to calm my dramatic ass down, and throwing hands at his wedding would embarrass the boss, I settled for spitting on him. There was nothing as infuriating as being spit on, I knew that firsthand, and my actions had immediate effect.

Enrico’s face went red, a potent humiliation that flushed down his neck. He stepped forward, violence in every inch of his body.

“What the fuck? You’ll pay for that,” he muttered.

He reached for me, but a huge hand slapped his chest, keeping him back effortlessly. Sol let out a cry, clutching my arm.

“That’s enough.” Bran O’Connor towered over Enrico, one large paw holding the smaller man in place. “You fucked around and found out. Apologize to the lady and walk away.”

Enrico’s eyes bulged. “Apologize to that bitch? Over my dead body,” he snarled.

“Don’t tempt me,” Bran countered.

All eyes in the room were on the two of them.

“Fight! You guys should slug it out!” someone called.

“Yeah, Bran — fight!”

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