Page 8 of Rosetti Family New York
Cigarette smoke and sweat and hot, stale air. The acrid bite of cheap beer and burnt popcorn. It’s thick enough to choke on, and it feels like home.
I slap hands with Matteo, who’s hovering by the edge of the mob, that smug grin pasted on his face. “Thought you had a date,” he says, eyes bright. “Standing her up already?”
“Not yet,” I yell back.
The air vibrates with another roar. Matt laughs, grabs my shirt as I move to ruffle his head. “Not so fast. Watch the hair.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I tell him, but I’m grinning. I push past him, nod at Rafe. He’s got his eyes on the fight, jaw clenched. His left hook looks about ready to snap someone in half.
“Better hope that guy doesn’t get knocked out,” I say.
Rafe just shakes his head, eyes cold. “Better hope Dad doesn’t knock you out for bringing the Price women here. He told you to take them to Il Lusso.”
I flip him off, then make my way to the edge of the ring. It’s perfect. The noise, the chaos, the pulse of the place.
There’s a fighter on the ground, clutching his side. Another one looming over him, wild eyes, fists wrapped and bloodied. A final kick to the ribs, and the crowd’s a wall of sound, crashing over me.
The dude on the ground stays down. I see the exact moment he decides to take the dive, see the shift as his side loses, and I love it. Losing means fights. Losing means blood. And sure enough,people start shoving, yelling at each other, fists out, fists up. It’s mayhem. It’s a goddamn riot. I feel it in my bones.
But then—
But then I see them.
They stand out like fucking angels. Too clean, too soft. Richard Price and his daughters. I grin wide, so wide it hurts. The older one is all elegant curves and ice-princess spine, and I immediately want to throw her against the nearest wall and drag that expensive dress up her creamy thighs and make her moan. Maybe the old man wasn’t so crazy after all.
I make my way through the thick of the crowd, shoving bodies out of the way.
He really brought them. He really brought his girls to this hellhole.
I’ve only met him once. He's tall, his face all hard angles, expensive and sculpted. It’s hilarious how out of place he looks, like he’s here to buy the place, not watch a fight.
The girls are young. Too young. The littler one has that scared rabbit look, eyes wide and ready to bolt. She’s probably not more than nineteen, but in that Disney princess get-up, she looks about twelve. I kind of want to walk up to her and see if she runs.
I focus in on the older one instead.
She’s holding her chin up, acting like this is all beneath her. Ice-blue dress that hugs her torso, flares out around her knees. She looks so goddamn elegant, it’s almost funny. Even here, in the middle of chaos, she makes it look like she belongs. I don’t get it. But I want to.
I push through the last of the crowd, making it to them. Richard looks down at me, sizing me up with those cold eyes.
“Mr. Rosetti, I assume?” he says, with this polite sneer.
“Which one?” I grin, let it hang there, see how they react. The younger one shifts, and I can see her panicking. The older one doesn’t move. She holds my gaze.
“This is Eleanor,” he says, gesturing to the girl in the blue dress. She nods, polite and perfect. "And Juliet." The Disney princess.
“Leonardo,” I say. I lean closer to the older sister, eyes on her. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. Just stands there, cool and collected. Exactly the kind of spoiled brat I hate inside the kind of body I love. I want to see what she does next. “Heard you were looking for me.”
Richard’s lips thin, displeased.
The older one? Eleanor? She surprises me. She doesn’t wait for her father to answer, doesn’t let him play it for her. “We didn’t expect such an... energetic location,” she says, eyes steady on mine.
“You didn’t?” I jerk my thumb at the ring, can’t help the wide grin on my face or the tightening in my pants.
She shakes her head, but there’s something there, something sharp. “Quite the opposite.”
I almost laugh, look at Richard instead. “Well, what’s life without a little adventure?”
He inclines his head, icy and cool. I hate him already. “You will give the girls a tour?”
