Page 65 of Of Murder and Matrimony

I could relate to that. I was a better man with Olesya at my side. My job with the family demanded I stay stoic, but I could imagine dropping those walls if I wasn’t constantly worried about the eyes watching my every move.

It was difficult to imagine a life without threats to my life, where I could go where I pleased on a whim, without security, without worrying about law enforcement. A life where I could travel the world with my wife and just be. That kind of life wasn’t in the cards for me, but if I could, I’d make it possible for Niccolò.

Placing a palm on my younger brother’s uninjured shoulder, I tried to relay my feelings in only a few words. “I hope you find what you both need in Calabria.”

He nodded his thanks, and we walked in silence for a few minutes until Niccolò pointed to his nose. “What happened there?”

I felt the tender place where Olesya’s pelvis met my face violently and couldn’t hold back a self-satisfied grin. “Oh, nothing.”

Chapter Twenty

“That’s it. Right there. Harder now. Yes.” Diego stepped back as I advanced, moving the strike pads to vary my target as I threw punches.

“You know,” I panted, waving my thickly padded hands in the air. “This would be easier if I weren’t wearing these gloves.”

“You’re not taking them off,” Diego scolded. “Can’t have the doctor’s hands broken, or you won’t be able to stitch our asses up when we need it.”

Sweat soaked the back of my white tank top and ran in rivulets between my breasts. If my shorts hadn’t been black, there would have been a noticeable wet line running down the back because it was hot enough that my ass was sweating. It was too hot to be standing outside on a July afternoon, but I was risking sunburn to build my confidence and hopefully learn to be less helpless.

“I’m not fragile.” I hit the pad again, but Diego’s hand didn’t budge. That was disappointing.

He shook the left pad at me, signaling the new target. “Never said you were.”

“No, it was all the tape on my fingers and the gloves that gave it away.”

“You ever consider I lose my hands if you lose yours?” Diego lifted a brow. He didn’t even appear to be sweating, which was concerning, given that he wore a black suit.

“You think Dante would take my injuries out on you?” I dropped my arms, tilting my head to the side as I tried to mop my brow with my forearm.

“I’d think less of him if he didn’t,” Diego grunted, tapping me on the side of the head with the pad. “Hands up.”

I ran through the motions again and again, hitting, ducking, and recovering. Diego was content to stay quiet, but I felt bored. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Don’t know what you want me to say.”

“What do you usually share with people?” I asked.

“I don’t,” he answered simply.

“Well, try,” I insisted, nearly missing the pad and clocking him in the nose. “How about your spare time? Is there a special lady in your life?”

Diego’s eyes widened, and then the impossible happened. His face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed. He laughed so hard that he dropped his hands and looked toward the sky, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. His shoulders shook even after he’d closed his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“So I guess there isn’t a girl waiting for you at home,” I ventured.

“No.” He chuckled again, then cleared his throat, trying to void the expression from his face.

I waggled my eyebrows at him. “A man, then?”

All humor vanished, and Diego’s jaw clenched tightly, eyes narrowing and boring into mine. “Never suggest that. Especially not where people might overhear you. That’s how you get somebody killed.”

Well, that touched a nerve. He looked around like somebody might be nearby, but we were alone in our little corner of the yard. I caught a flicker of emotion as he looked away. Guilt? Fear?

Shit. I might have just stepped in it.

“I won’t tell anybody,” I whispered, unsure how to broach the subject without seeming more insensitive.

He shrugged. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

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