It was fight day, and I hated everyone. Which was ironic as fuck because the penthouse was full of people. Sera and Matteo flew in this morning with Dom and Carlotta. The rest of the De Luccis were staying in New York because of a big fight that would determine the leadership of the Rossi crime family.
The Game of Bosses was one of the biggest underworld events in recent history ever since the pay-per-view matches became popular. Europe had more matches than the U.S. where the games were only supposed to be in Las Vegas and New York. With my acceptance of Orlov’s challenge, the basement of Skyland Towers had been converted into an underground fighting arena.
I was relieved we weren’t fighting over concrete flooring which was the norm in illegal matches. Egotistical and high-maintenance bosses had its perks. The day before, Ange and I had stopped training and visited the site. Our crew and my IT team had monitored the installation. Orlov had sent his own men as well.
A rap on the door drew my attention. Dom stepped in. “What are you doing holed up in here?”
“Do you think I enjoy hearing how people are betting that Orlov will win?” I snapped.
Dom laughed. The fucker.
He closed the door and walked up to the oak desk. “You shouldn’t take it personally. The odds are against him. They make more money that way.”
“If. He. Wins,” I said. “I have no intention of losing, so why even risk it?” When Dom couldn’t stop laughing, I asked, “Who did you bet on?”
My nephew laughed harder and I could only sit and stew and glare at him. When he finally stopped to say something, there were tears in his eyes. “Do you really want me to answer that? I’m rooting for you to win, Zio, but it’s much more fun to bet on the underdog.”
“You have no loyalty.”
“It’s a bet. Nothing personal.”
“It’s feeling very personal.”
“If it makes you feel better, Sera put her money on you. She also made Matteo promise to bet on you.”
“See, now there’s loyalty.”
“Aw, come on, Zio. It’s just a game.”
I did see the humor in this. It didn’t mean I had to make him feel good about betting against his own blood.
I rose from my chair and walked over to my nephew. He eyed me warily, but his mouth was twitching.
I leaned into him. “Watch me hold a grudge.”
He patted my back. “But you love me. Come on. Join the fun.”
The smell in the kitchen of toasting garlic bread made my mouth water. If I hadn’t been on a regimented diet in the past three weeks, the craving wouldn’t be this bad. Carlotta’s recipe of beef lasagna had always been my favorite and I made fucking sure Natalya saved me a piece or two for after the fight.
“The secret is in the béchamel,” Carlotta said. She was teaching Natalya how to make it. “And use fresh sausages.”
“She knows that, Lottie.” I walked into the kitchen.
“Hey, Zio.” Sera had both elbows on the counter.
“You’re learning too?” I asked my niece.
“No. Matteo knows how to make it. I just eat.”
“She’s waiting for the first bite,” Carlotta said.
Martha came over with bread. “You hungry?”
I shrugged. “I could eat, but you know, no bread until after the fight.”
Natalya moved to my side and clasped my hand, lifting her mouth for a kiss. I gave her a quick one. It was all I could do not to haul her into our bedroom and fuck her.
“I’ll get your meal number three,” she said with all sweetness.
“I can do it myself.”
“Talk to your sister and niece,” she said. “You haven’t spent enough time together. And we transferred your food to the utility room after our groceries this morning.” Her voice faded as she left the kitchen.
“So.” Carlotta put the lasagna in the oven. “I noticed Elena isn’t that chatty.”
“What was that?” I cupped my ear mockingly. “Did you say catty?”
Martha shook her head with a hidden smile and returned to her spot of chopping vegetables.
“Ah, Luca, fratello mio.” My sister made a soundless laugh. Her chest shook with it. “She’s your mother-in-law. Make nice.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You haven’t met one like Elena.” I looked over my shoulder at the living room, where most of the men were watching a UFC fight. My mother-in-law was looking after Elias and seemed to be content enough.
“I’m so lucky with mine,” Sera said dreamily.
“Hey, I would make a good mother-in-law,” Carlotta said. “If my children ever get their act together and—”
“He’s too busy being boss and Lucia is too busy breaking hearts,” I said. “Look at me. I wouldn’t be married if Sera didn’t jilt—”
“There was no jilting done,” my niece snapped at me.
We continued arguing. It was much like the old times and I realized how much I missed this part of the family. Lottie didn’t get along with Emilio’s third wife and rarely visited. Our age gap was twenty years, and she’d been more mothering than a typical sibling. Sera was more like a sister to me than a niece. Hell, I was only four years older than Dom.
“What’s the holdup with the food?” Ange came into the kitchen.
Martha approached our group bearing a platter. “These wings are fresh out of the air fryer.”
My brother made a face. “Eh, what happened to frying it in real oil?”
“So Luca can also eat,” Martha said.
“Here, caro.” Natalya returned with my lunch of sweet potato and grilled chicken. I’d leaned up and packed on muscle in the past three weeks. Ange was of the opinion I should have put on more fat for padding, but hell, I wasn’t a wrestler and I preferred staying lean for the fight, so I depended on Dom for meal plan advice since the De Luccis owned a boxing gym.
“What’s with all this babying of Luca?” Ange scoffed.
“He is our baby brother.” Carlotta stood beside me and ruffled my hair. “And it’s his big day.”
“Eat it up, Zio.” Dom laughed, coming up beside my brother. I wasn’t sure if he meant all the mothering or the food.
“Are you going to help warm me up later?” I asked my nephew.
“Matteo and I are coming.” Dom picked up a wing and did fancy footwork shit.
“We’re going to meet you at the venue,” Sera said. “The girls are going to have their hair and makeup done. Dom’s crew will be with us.”
“It’s a basement fight,” I reminded them.
“A high-class basement fight…” Dom said. “Just like the movies.”
Hours later, I was sick of warming up.
“Remind me never to sign up for one of these again.”
Dom left the gym to take a call and left Matteo to keep me moving.
“It’s not working.” Sera’s husband was holding the warm-up mitts. He was talking to Ange who was sitting on the bench watching us. The chicken wings gave my brother acid-reflux, so it had been left to Dom and Matteo to get me through the drills. “He’s still thinking about the fight.”
“Of course I’m thinking about the fight. It’s in an hour,” I muttered.
“Give me rapid punches,” Matteo ordered.
“You’re supposed to warm me up, not wear me out.” I lowered my arms. “I’m done.”
Ange laughed. “Maybe you should meditate.”
I glared at my brother. “Does it look like I fucking meditate?”
“Bruce Lee did.” Matteo joined Ange on the bench. “And he’s the father of mixed martial arts.”
“I bet you Orlov does it,” Ange mused. “We should have kept track of things he’s been doing other than training.”
“What? Check for his aura?” I scoffed.
“Yeah, your chakras don’t seem aligned,” Matteo said.
“Fuck you, De Lucci. What the fuck do you know about fucking chakras?”
He and Ange burst out laughing and high-fived. “Yep, his aggression is peaking.”
I blew out a breath and shook my head. “You’re supposed to keep me aggressive, not give me a stroke by annoying me to death.”
The door slammed open and a grim-looking Dom walked into the room, followed by soldiers from both our families, including my two capos.
He stopped before me. “We have a problem.”
Ange and Matteo got up slowly from their seats.
“What? Don’t tell me Orlov is backing out?”
“No. Someone took Natalya.”
