Page 73 of The Killer Cupcake
The confession didn't make sense. She opened her mouth to say it, but nothing came out.
"After the fight. After you see it through, Carmelo wins. We play by your rules, Kathy—only your rules. And I’ll explain everything. Deal?"
"Your baby?" The horror in her voice made him grip the wheel tighter. “What kind of monster are you?!"
"Do we have a deal?" His voice had gone cold, all business now.
She stared at him, this man who was Janey's husband, Willa's... what? The car suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. Another betrayal. Another secret. Another man taking what he wanted. Another reason to run and scream against the world she found herself trapped in. But why? How? What choice did she have?
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
"Deal," she replied.
CHAPTER 29
THE CHAMP AND HIS LADY
Carmelo sat frozen in the back room, robe hanging loose on his shoulders, gloves laced, boots on. He should've been warming up, should've been in the ring twenty minutes ago. But his body had shut down, suspended between dread and hope.Did she know? How much? Was he already dead and just waiting for the bullet?
"Matteo's back." A voice cut through his paralysis from one of his watchers. "Got people with him."
Carmelo's head lifted like a man on the gallows spotting the governor. Matteo entered first, then Carmine, and behind them?—
Kathy.
She wasn't looking at him yet, her attention caught by something in the hallway. When her eyes finally found his, he watched her face transform—soft recognition, then something harder, sharper, before a smile bloomed that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey," she said, and the simple word undid him.
He launched from the chair, sweeping her into his arms and spinning her around before his mind could warn him to be careful. She hugged him back, her body fitting against his theway it always had, but when her eyes opened over his shoulder, they locked on Matteo with something fierce and unforgiving.
When he finally released her, she softened again, that practiced smile returning. "They said I could watch you warm up. You ready, champ?"
He kissed her desperately, tasting her as if it were for the first time. She went rigid for just a heartbeat before melting into him, kissing back with enough heat to fool anyone watching. When they broke apart, he kissed her again, drowning in relief.
"Carmelo, stop," she laughed, and it almost sounded real.
He pulled back, searching her face. "You... came? You okay? We okay?”
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?” Her eyes were wide, innocent. Perfect.
Carmelo glanced at Matteo and Carmine, who both nodded—whatever had been broken was fixed. He exhaled years of tension. Kathy's hands found his face, her touch gentle. "You ready, you focused, huh?"
"I am now,” he sighed.
"Then show me what you do best." She kissed him once more, her fingers stroking his jaw with such tenderness that even the men watching were convinced. Carmelo grinned like a fool, shoved in his mouthguard, and bounced out toward the ring.
The moment he was gone, Kathy's mask slipped. She stood perfectly still, as if movement might shatter her facade.
"Thank you, Kathy," Matteo started.
She turned on him with a heated glare. "Don't speak to me. And you tell Debbie—we're not family anymore. No letters. No calls. Ever. I don’t ever want to see or talk to her again. After Tennessee, I hope I never see you either.”
Matteo flinched as if slapped. Kathy walked out, her spine straight as a blade.
Carmine shook his head at the younger man. "There's no turning back now."
The next two days were a masterclass in torture. Kathy played her part flawlessly—at the gym, cheering from ringside; at dinners, laughing at the right moments; at the parties where Negroes were allowed, dancing just close enough to keep Carmelo happy but never alone. She had a dozen excuses to avoid his bed, each more creative than the last. A few times, he got aggressive, even reached under the table and under her skirt to touch her between her thighs. She tolerated his unrelenting desires, but kept him from gaining the prize he sought. That particular performance, she refused to give.
