Page 22 of Silent Night Sins
Back in the kitchen, I found the trust fund prince munching on a cookie, glued to the TV. “I haven’t seen Home Alone in years,” he said with a smile. “Maybe we could watch it sometime.”
I flicked the screen off and went to remove the stainless-steel bowl from the mixer.
“Sorry, I couldn’t figure out how to unattach it,” Donny said, coming up behind me.
Useless man. I forced myself not to snap at him, but it was tempting, especially when his arm brushed against my waist. The cloying, chemical cologne assaulted my senses. I scooted around him, taking the frosting to the fridge.
“Donny, I’m only going because you bothered to get us tickets,” I stated, setting the dish in the fridge. I would cover it later. “This isn’t a date.”
He popped the rest of the stocking in his mouth and grinned. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he said around a mouth full of cookie.
***
Theunsanctioned fight was being held in a refurbished industrial warehouse. The venue was packed. Boston was the city of hardworking, blue-collar workers. Their grit and determination was renowned. Tonight, they came out in droves to watch a local fighter take on a beast from the frozen tundra across the pond. They whispered that the Siberian fighter was a product of human engineering.
Vlad was a brute; there was no denying the physical evidence.
He loomed in the corner of the ring, glaring into the void. His gaze was unfocused, his mind seemed unhinged.
I let Donny pull me to the VIP section, as an upbeat anthem from the Dropkick Murphys boomed over the speakers. The crowd roared in response, already familiar with the tune both the Bruins and the Celtics used. While it had a decidedly Irish undercurrent, the melody spoke of home.
The music and energy of the crowd swept through me, and I turned to chant the lyrics toI’m Shipping up to Bostonas the local boy paraded through the crowd. Standing well over six feet tall, weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds, Messina was a legend.
My heart skipped against my chest.
There was no mistaking that face, carved from ice and stone. This was the Cristiano Messina I knew. The boy who’d been my playfellow when my father was a regular Joe. Messina grew up well. His body was a work of art, all cut muscle and bronze skin proclaiming his Italian heritage, but the ink decorating it was new.
It has to be him.
Just from the way he walked through the crowd, his fight team pushing aside the eager viewers, I felt that I knew the man. Put a mask and dark clothing on him, and he would easily fit the description of my midnight monster. My thief. I leaned forward, cheering with the throng of voices.
Messina didn’t look in my direction. A small pulse of hurt thudded in my chest. If he was the monster who’d been breaking into my house, it was probably smart that he didn’t see me. His head needed to be in the game for this fight.
But before the night was over, I wanted one look.
One small confirmation thattheCristiano Messina was my dark knight who also had the same given name.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think they weren’t one and the same. Who else would call me Nicky? Who else would be that obsessed with me? Some random stranger? No…the monster’s vehement claim that I was his angel had to come from a deeper place.
Messina jogged up the steps, climbed into the ring, and bounced lightly on his heels.
“It doesn’t matter what the Rusky’s pound-for-pound hits weight. Messina fights point,” someone behind me called.
I turned around and threw over my shoulder, “Should be one hell of a match, then!”
The classy guy in a sweater vest and his buddy with a Red Sox cap gave me a nod.
“What’s that mean?” Donny shouted in my ear.
Trying not to breathe the ripe cologne, I explained, “Point Kickboxing. It means his control is unmatched. He’ll be loose, taunting, almost like he’s dancing.”
Donny nodded slowly, face scrunched in concentration. “So, Messina’s a solid investment?”
I tore my eyes off the ring, where the announcer was calling out the pre-fight rules. “What do you mean, investment?”
Donny smirked. “I’m in talks to be one of his biggest sponsors.”
But you don’t know the first thing about his fighting style?I rolled my eyes hard enough that they almost fell out of my skull.
