Page 66 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Catching his hint, I nodded. “Right.”

“Back to work.” Diego held his hands up like nothing had happened.

I struck out at the pad, but Diego switched it up and dodged my glove. I recovered and tried again, but he was faster than me, anticipating my every move. “How will I ever learn to hit if you won’t let me touch the pad?”

“Move better and faster, and you’ll hit it,” he answered. “I still think we should be doing knife work. You use a scalpel. A knife isn’t so different—just another blade.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” All the exertion made me breathless, and I doubled over, resting my gloved fists on my knees as I looked up at my unofficial trainer. “It’s not even close to the same thing. I’ve never aimed for the jugular with my scalpel.”

“First time for everything.” Diego clapped the pads together and held them up. “Come on. You can do ten more.”

I raised my gloves to the center of my body in front of my face, tucking my shoulders in and popping out a few quick jabs that felt like I was swimming through molasses with the humid air. In the distance, darker clouds loomed, threatening rain. I would welcome it when the storm arrived.

“I promise you, there will never be a time when I will try to rip somebody’s throat out with a scalpel,” I forced out between jabs.

“Do you really think a few punches will disable an attacker?” my husband asked behind me.

I spun, my training forgotten, and launched myself into Dante’s arms. “What are you doing out here? I thought you had to go into the office!”

He laughed, swinging me in a circle before setting me down on the grass. “I went to the office. Five hours ago. I’ve got a little time before I have to get back to work here at the house.”

“Has it been that long?” I glanced over at Diego, who nodded. I used my teeth to pry the velcro off one of my gloves before removing the other. My hands were as bright as cherries, and I could feel the heat radiating off them after being contained in leather for the better part of an hour.

“Long enough for your nose to turn red.” Dante tapped me, and I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe you should try working in the shade for a while. With this.”

He withdrew a black item from his pocket, flipping it open to reveal a thin, gleaming blade. Carefully, I took it from his hand and felt its weight. For such a small item, it was heavier than it looked.

“Is everybody conspiring to make me a knife fighter?” I asked, turning my wrist back and forth and watching the blade reflect the sunlight.

“Cosimo picked it out,” Dante explained, taking the knife back and closing it before slipping it back into his pocket. I guess he didn’t think I was ready for that responsibility. “Knives are his thing.”

“Don’t elaborate,” I warned, ignoring the implication. I saw Diego removing his pads from the corner of my eye, and I spun to face him. “You’re not quitting now, are you?”

“Mrs. Neretti,” he said indulgently. “You can barely hold your arms up. I think we’re done for today.”

Dante tilted his head toward the house. “You can go back inside. I’ve got this for a while.”

“Yes, sir.” Diego took my gloves and headed across the grass like his ass was on fire.

“What did you do to him?” Dante asked, watching my guard leave. “He’s moving as fast as the day he saved me from that bullet.”

“Stop it.” I whacked him playfully on the arm. “I didn’t do anything.”

I only accidentally threatened to out him to the mafia. I cringed inwardly and vowed to make it up to Diego.

“He’s probably suffering from heat stroke because you insist the men wear full suits in ninety-degree weather.” I shielded my eyes from the sun as I looked up at my husband. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “What? I’m a doctor. It’s my professional opinion. Get them Bermuda shorts or something.”

“I can safely assure you that will never happen,” Dante replied confidently. “But I can offer to cool you off a bit. Let’s go for a swim.”

“How about khakis, then?” I asked as I followed him. “Maybe a nice Hawaiian shirt and loafers. Show the softer side of the mafia.”

I heard him laugh up ahead. “There is no softer side.”

“I bet a uniform change would be great for PR.” I grinned when he shot me a quelling look.

Dante stopped at the pool gate and held it open for me, smacking my ass as I passed by. “I should bend you over my knee for your attitude.”

“I think you mean my humor,” I corrected him. My brows furrowed when I looked down at my outfit. “I don’t have my suit down here.”

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