Page 41 of Celestial Combat

Natalia cackled. “You’d be so cute together.”

Maria groaned, flopping back against the couch cushions. “You’re all insane.”

“Andyou,” I said, pointing at her, “Have a very clear type.”

Maria raised an unimpressed brow. “Oh really?”

“Brunet. Built. Dangerous. Smart. A little bad.”

“And don’t forgetformer pro athlete,” Francesca added. “College basketball, baby. Zach was all over the league draft boards before he took over his family’s business.”

“Dark, sexy, morally questionable,” Natalia offered with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Just like you.”

Maria covered her face with both hands.

“We’re just saying,” I leaned forward, grinning. “If you ever decide to get over your whole ‘men suck’ phase –which is honestly super valid, mendosuck – Zach’s right there. Probably brooding in a dark corner somewhere, waiting for you to give him a chance.”

“I heard he hasn’t seen anyone else since you two met at the club,” Francesca chimed in. “Tony was teasing him with Matteo.”

“He’s not even all that,” Maria muttered.

All three of us stared at her in unison.

Francesca was grinning so hard her cheeks turned pink. “Admit it, you wanna let him give it to you just alittlebit.” She smirked, circling her hips and grinding back into the couch to make her point.

Maria grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at her, the blush on her face intensifying, and we all screamed with laughter as Francesca ducked.

I caught Maria’s eye, and she gave me the smallest, guiltiest smile.

Hook.

Line.

Crush confirmed.

“Well,” I said smugly, raising my glass for a toast, “To emotionally unavailable, athletically blessed bad boys who haunt our dreams.”

We all clinked glasses.

“And to Maria,” Natalia added. “May Zach convince her to start dating.”

We all laughed and Maria threw another pillow.

I loved girls’ night.

Chapter 14

Present

31 years old

Midtown, New York City

THE LOW HUM OF THE AIR conditioning filled the silence in my front office, the afternoon sun casting sharp lines of light across the dark wood desk. The sounds of training echoed faintly from the main floor ofPython, the rhythmic pounding of fists on heavy bags, the occasional bark of an instructor correcting form.

Trevor sat across from me, arms crossed. We had been talking business, but neither of our minds was in it.

Somehow, the conversation had shifted.

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