Kane (Face-Off 2)

I recognized the boy from Broad Street walking toward us in a Phillies baseball jersey. As our eyes met, he folded his arms over his chest.

“You rich bitch,” he said, his voice coming off like a growl. Cold and calculated, his hardened stare was similar to that of a trained killer.

What was it with Philly boys? They were so rough around the edges, like rabid dogs ready to claw their way out of a cage.

Luca pushed me behind him, his hand on my hip, sparking a new level of excitement within me. I damn near salivated on his tan skin as he came to my defense.

“Talk to her like that again, and you’ll be picking up your teeth off the ground.”

The guy moved his jaw back and forth, drawing attention to his cleft chin, and cracked his neck. No way was he close to backing down. Idiot.

“I’ll talk to her however the fuck I want to. Stay out of it. Bitch threw a soda in my car window.”

I slid out from Luca’s shadow and stepped between them. “You almost ran me over. Maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”

Luca hooked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get back in your car and forget it ever happened.”

I should have moved because I expected the boy to take a swing. But Luca smelled of sweat and citrus, a delicious combination that made me want to lick his skin.

“She owes me!” he yelled in Luca’s face, pointing at the tiny brown stains on his jersey. “Her soda exploded when it hit my dashboard.”

He was close enough that I got a whiff of stale cigarettes on his breath.

Nothing seemed to faze Luca, not even this crazy person invading his personal space. He took a wad of cash from his pocket, plucked a few twenties from the stack, and threw them at the boy. “There, consider the debt paid. Now, get outta here!” he spoke with a thick South Philly accent.

His over pronunciation of vowels wasn’t what caught my attention though. No, Luca commanded a presence, a sense of authority, that I felt in my bones. He didn’t back down. He just stood there, grinding his teeth together. I looked over my shoulder at Luca’s fraternity brothers huddled around us like an army.

“Keep your bit

ch on a leash,” the boy said, his body angled toward the street.

With that, I lost my damn mind. As I attempted to lunge at the guy, Luca clutched my bicep, holding me back.

I flicked my fingers under my jaw and smirked at the asshole. “Vaffanculo!”

Most of the time, I cursed in Italian, sort of a habit I’d picked up while growing up at Rinaldi Manor. Swear words sounded better in another language.

Luca laughed, shaking his head at me, intrigued. I stomped off toward Silvia. She was waiting for me with an impish grin, her back resting against a flagpole, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wow!” Silvia’s mouth dropped open in awe. “That was pretty crazy, huh? And, now, Luca Marchese is over there, defending your honor. Never thought I’d see that.”

I turned around to see Luca with his fists full of the boy’s shirt, and I gulped. Because of my insane outburst, this stranger now had Luca’s fraternity brothers surrounding him. Damn it.

I sifted through the group just in time to hear Luca threatening him. The two of them were going at it in an attempt to counter the other. I had a feeling Luca was not used to anyone challenging him.

“That’s enough.” I touched Luca’s forearm.

He glanced at me. “Not until he apologizes.” He released his shirt and stepped back. He pivoted his foot, half-facing the boy and me, as if torn between where he wanted to be.

At the murderous look in his eyes and the heat behind his words, a strange pulse of electricity situated itself between my thighs. I wasn’t sure if my hands were sweating from the heat or the nervous energy shooting through my entire body.

The fountain girls watched him and studied me, their arms folded across their chests. I felt as though I were under a giant microscope. The vicious daggers these girls shot at me made me wonder if they would tackle me to get to him. Well, they could have him. Rich assholes like Luca were a dime a dozen at this school. And I’d had my fair share of drama over the years. I didn’t need any more.

When I refused to respond, Luca said, “Bella, he owes you an apology.” He shot the guy a pained expression. “Don’t you? Now, tell her you’re sorry. Nod your fucking head, and spit it out.”

“Don’t call me Bella,” I said, my jaw tensed in anger. “You lost the right years ago.”

“You’re beautiful. I’m just stating a fact, gorgeous.” Luca winked, one side of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile.