Page 20 of Heir of Fire
She shook her head. “I doubt it’s anything serious. I’ve been working hard at the studio, it’s probably all catching up to me now.”
“Well, if you feel worse, you know my number.”
“Take care of Blair while you’re out,” Gianna said, getting into the car.
Allister looked taken aback for a moment, before leaning down in confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me to take care of all the girls?”
“Because they have their boys with them,” she said innocently.
He seemed to accept that answer but still didn’t wipe the stunned look off his face. He closed the door for her, letting her finally leave. She let a heavy sigh leave her lips, more confused than she had ever been in her life.
She needed a new boy in her life. Something casual to get herself to stop thinking about Finn.
And quick.
TWELVE
FINN
Finn could rememberhis first fight like it happened yesterday. He was sixteen and had stumbled upon some street fight with Augustus. He didn’t know where they were other than outside of the city and they were drunk out of their minds.
It was an escape more than anything. His father had put his hands on him once again, nearly breaking his fucking arm, but stopping just before he did. Finn didn’t care where he went, he just needed to leave for a moment. So, he and Augustus grabbed the bikes they had hidden in the forest so his father wouldn’t find them, and they drove until they stumbled onto a group of people fighting like madmen beside a big bonfire.
They blended in with the crowd easily, drinking the cheap liquor and watching as the grown men beat each other mercilessly. He was fascinated. And when enough of the alcohol had numbed the bruises on his body, he stepped forward when they called for volunteers for the next fight. Augustus tried to stop him, but there was no use.
He needed that fight more than he had ever needed anything in his life.
When a grown man a little bit larger than his father stepped up, he forced himself to stand even taller instead of coweringdown. He remembered every hit, every kick, every drop of blood he had ever bled in his life. The grown man sent a punch towards him, and Finn snapped. He attacked the man with something he didn’t know he had inside of him.
It was like he fell into a blackout because when he finally came to, the grown man was on the ground unconscious. He felt disgusted with himself for hurting someone else, but there was something better deep inside that he chased instead.
Control.
He wasn’t the scared child forced to take a beating from his father. He was the future mafia Don controlling his own destiny.
That feeling was an addiction. Fight Night became a celebration, but fighting for him became a necessity.
It cleansed him of his demons for a little bit and usually left him with a sense of clarity.
Not tonight though.
Tonight, all fighting Raphael did was push Finn towards something else—something dangerous that he wasn’t supposed to even attempt to move towards.
Gianna Moretti.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her wide blue eyes and the small gasp that left her mouth when he slammed the useless waste of space onto the ring.
Finn was supposed to get revenge for her and be done with it. He was supposed to have cleared his mind and conscience after the fight, but for some reason, his heart still beat rapidly as if he hadn’t even fought at all.
His body was still craving a high and it seemed to have become resistant to the normal treatments.
Going to the gym to burn off the energy by beating the shit out of the punching bag did nothing. If anything, it made him even more antsy. He needed to move; he couldn’t stay stagnant. He considered going out to the party that everyone else seemedto be at, but that seemed like a disaster. In his current state, he felt like he could pick a fight with anyone that even looked in his direction the wrong way. He considered leaving the house for a drive, but it still felt like something was missing.
Something pink and blonde.
Maybe a cold fucking shower would do it.
He left the gym, still in the shorts he fought in with no T-shirt to cover the rest of his body. They had specks of blood on them, as did his arms, but his first thought hadn’t been to shower when he got home.
