Page 149 of The Tempted

I’m your guy,” Jack promised.

I gave him a nod before walking out the door to meet Mike. He looked traumatized, his hands shaking as he placed the gun down. I shook my head and patted him on the back.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, knowing that Vic’s lifestyle was already spilling into Mike’s life.

I like to think I’m a good sister, like right now I’m shooting for sister of the year as I sweat my ass off on the treadmill. Nikki called me and asked me to come with her to the gym. So I threw on my best PINK by Victoria’s Secret yoga pants and one of those form fitting gym shirts that have the built in bra, that to my surprise, made my boobs look fabulous, a fresh pair of white Nike’s and my outfit was complete.

I reached for my water bottle, wiping at my forehead with the back of my freehand.

“My makeup is sweating off my face,” I complained between breaths before I guzzled the water down.

“I told you not to wear makeup to the gym,”

Nikki protested as she increased the incline on her machine. My sister worked out like a man, I don’t even think she broke a sweat as she kept challenging herself.

“I don’t go anywhere without make up anymore. My skin has so many discolorations since I had Luca.”

“Trust me no one is looking at your skin, A,” she huffed blowing out a breath. “Have you spoken to Anthony?”

“Not since the re-pass, why?” I questioned, screwing the cap onto my water bottle. I wasn’t in the mood to rehash my confrontation with Anthony, in fact I wouldn’t mind forgetting it all together.

“I was just wondering if he had told you anything about Mikey,” she asked nonchalantly, grabbing a towel and dabbing the sweat from her forehead.

“Why what’s going on with him?” I asked pausing to look at Nikki, using any excuse I could for a break.

“Nothing. I’m just worried about him, daddy has him training to be a dapper gangster in training,” she continued with a roll of her eyes. “Excuse me, night club manager,” she corrected while looking at me and coughing into her closed hand trying to cover up her next word. “Bullshit.”

“What do you mean bullshit? He’s going to be running Temptations, dad was adamant he didn’t get mixed up in the rest of the business.”

“Right, name one employee of dad’s that isn’t, and I quote,” she made quotations with her fingers, “mixed up in the rest of the business.” She dropped her hands to grip the handles on the machine. “It’s just wrong. Mikey doesn’t want to be anything like his dad but with our dad swaying him to his side it’s pretty much inevitable.”

“Mike’s not a pushover. I may not have seen a lot of him since he’s been back but what I have seen is that man detests our father.”

“Yeah and so does that one,” Nikki said, pointing across the gym. My curiosity getting the best of me, I turned my attention in the direction my sister pointed, and my eyes met Anthony’s.

“Shit,” I whisper, looking away from him and back at my sister who was smiling at him, giving him a friendly wave. “What’re you doing?” I hiss.

She glanced at me confused.

“Saying hello to Anthony?”

“No! Don’t look at him or else he’ll come over here,” I say sternly, turning back towards my machine to busy myself so he would think twice about interrupting my strenuous work out. I increased the incline to the max and start running as fast I can.

“Um…A…you might not want to,” Nikki queries sounding worried. “Slow down you’re going to have a heart attack!” She reached over just as I started to pant and played with the settings of the treadmill, suddenly everything slowed down. “What the hell is going on with the two of you?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” I respond breathless.

“Yeah, that’s believable,” she replies. I could feel her eyes boring into me. “Oh my God!” She said slowly, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re screwing him again, aren’t you?”

My head snapped around to face her.

“What? No!”

“No? Why the hell not?” she glanced back across the gym to Anthony who was hitting the heavy bag.

“He’s fucking hot.”

I reluctantly follow my sister’s gaze, watching Anthony as his fists pummel the bag. If you stared at him long enough he’d likely put you in a trance by the grace in which he moved. It was almost like a form of art, the way his feet danced around, while his fists delivered the perfect punch.

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