“How long have you been fighting?” he asked, making me jump. He noticed, mouth twitching, and so had Savio who looked like he was about to start laughing.
I flushed. “Three years.” My gaze lingered around his nose because his eyes scared me too much.
“Not meeting your opponent’s gaze suggests you’re submitting. Are you submitting before the fight has even started, Gemma?” he asked in a low voice.
My eyes snapped up to his. “No.”
It was a struggle holding his gaze. I got why Dad, Diego, and the other men always spoke with so much respect about their Capo.
“Good,” he said. He beckoned me forward. “Attack.”
I took a few steps forward, raising my fists to shield my face. He was too tall. Hitting Diego had already been difficult, but the Capo was even taller. He mirrored my moves, raising his fists up to his face. My stomach was in knots as I tried to gather the courage to hit him.
“Come on, Kitty, show claws,” Savio called.
Remo’s mouth twitched, and I lunged, trying to land a punch in his lower belly. His hand blocked me and that move already hurt like crazy. His other hand went past my defenses and pushed against my stomach. Not a punch, a shove that made me stumble backward and almost lose my balance.
A shove? That wasn’t a move in a cage fight. I glared, angry, and barreled toward him again. I had to use my speed and small body if I wanted any chance. Remo’s smile widened. He tried to grab me, but I dropped to my knees and did a forward roll. I’d planned to use his wide stance to move through his legs, but he grasped one of my ankles and tugged. I landed flat on my back with a gasp, and then he straddled my legs and pressed my wrists together over my head. “Surrender,” he said.
I struggled, trying to get out of his hold.
“Surrender,” he ordered.
I didn’t want to. I was angry at Savio for making me fight his brother, knowing I’d humiliate myself, but I was even angrier at myself for wanting Savio’s attention so badly that I’d agreed to this deal. Remo hadn’t even fought me. He’d toyed with me, just like Savio. This was over so quick it couldn’t be considered a fight. I tried to arch off the ground or free my arms, but his hold was like steel. His fingers tightened, becoming uncomfortable. “You need to know when to surrender.”
“Surrender, Gemma,” Diego called.
I could feel tears of anger rising in my eyes. “No! Neither of you would!”
Remo’s grip on my wrists became painful. “That’s true, but we live with the consequences. You can refuse surrender because you know you’re safe from pain. You’re playing the girl-card.”
“I’m not! You all decide to coddle me because I’m a girl. I don’t mind pain! I want to be taken seriously!” I bit out, struggling harder, tired of being regarded like a cute little kitty.
“Remo,” Nino Falcone said in warning.
I winced under the force of Remo’s grip. “If I tighten my hold further, I’ll snap your thin wrists clean in half. Pride is an honorable thing, but don’t let it get in the way of a wise choice. Your fights will never be ours, so you can’t fight them the same way we do.”
I looked away. “I surrender.”
He released me and got to his feet. Savio and Diego joined us in the cage. Diego gave me a reprimanding look, but Savio nodded as if he was impressed.
“I lost. You don’t have to pretend I did good.” Tears of embarrassment and anger threatened to burst forth, but so far, I’d managed not to cry in front of Savio and I had no intention of changing that. Some girls only cried when they were heartbroken or sad, I wasn’t that lucky. I also bawled when I was angry or exceedingly happy, which led to many embarrassing scenes. Emotionality ran like a curse in our family—at least on the female side. Diego had the emotional range of a brick.
Savio chuckled and exchanged a look with his older brother. Diego rolled his eyes. This was too much. I jumped to my feet and shoved past them, then hoisted myself out of the cage and rushed toward one of the doors, hoping it would lead to a restroom. I needed to splash some water in my face before I lost it… and the remains of my dignity.
I’d wanted to impress Savio with my skills so he’d finally take notice of me, but now they all laughed at me like many did in school because of my clothes and beliefs.
“Gemma, get a grip!” Diego called.
I ignored him. Half the time, he was the reason why I cried anyway. I pushed through the door and into a locker room where I made a beeline for the sink. I splashed water onto my face, sucking in a sharp breath from the cold. It helped with the crying sensation though.
I sank down on one of the benches and stared down at my shabby white sneakers. Diego had worn them when he was eleven. Now it was my turn. The door creaked and steps rang out.
“Leave me alone. I’m not speaking to you anymore. You keep embarrassing me in front of Savio.”
Brand-new stylish black and gold Nike came into view—a limited edition that cost more than Diego’s and my wardrobe together. I wished the ground would swallow me. “That’s what siblings are for, Kitty.”
I wanted him to go away, to spare me the mortification, but even now I craved his closeness. I looked up and his lips twitched. “Why are you here?” The snappiness I was aiming for turned into a hopeful whisper.
Savio’s mouth twitched again, making me self-conscious. “You fought against Remo. Geez, Kitty, most guys would have shit their pants in a cage with Remo, and you showed sass.”
I blinked, trying to figure out if
