I smirked up at him, licking my painted red lips and daring him to say another word. His growl when I'd come out of my bedroom in my apartment dressed for fight night had been enough to tempt me to stay home. There’d been a possession and danger in his eyes that warned anyone would suffer should they touch me.
Many men thought women didn't belong in the Underground unless they were there to be pussy for the fighters, but my appearance with Enzo would turn that on its head. The deep ruby bralette hugged my boobs perfectly, leaving my stomach revealed as the elevator came to a stop and we stepped into the crowd of people gathered to watch the opening fights. Mike wouldn't take the ring for another hour as the headliner for the night.
Eyes turned our way as my thighs peeked out of the slits in my long matching ruby skirt as I walked. Enzo looked delectable in his suit, standing out from the rougher crowd. It almost made me sad that his tattoos weren't on display, that the power in his bro
ad frame was mostly hidden behind his business persona. "Why aren't you in boots and jeans?" I asked, leaning into him as we walked. Fingers trailing up his arm, I longed for the feel of his skin against mine.
"Bellandi business means I wear a suit," he said, tugging at the collar of his shirt until the top button popped open. Just the peek of tanned olive skin through the gap in fabric made me lick my lips. "You keep that up and you and I are going to be doing something very unprofessional, Carina," he warned.
I sighed, unable to stop the need pouring through me with every thump of the music. Fight night turned me on. Every single time. Something about all the violence and controlled rage of watching two men fight for the fun of it felt like a force of nature that I couldn't stop from affecting the deepest, darkest parts of me. "I might like that," I whispered.
Enzo raised a brow at me, catching my chin with his fingers. "You know, Baby Girl, I'm starting to think you're a little bit of an exhibitionist. Giving me a lap dance, wanting to strip for men you don't know. Would your tight little pussy get wet if I hiked up one of your legs and made you support yourself on the rope? If I spread you so wide that everyone could see just how fucking perfect you look with your cunt wrapped around my cock?"
"Hmmm," I hummed, letting him guide me toward the door where the main arena would come into view. To the side of the doors, Bellandi men took bets, the crush of the crowd overwhelming while everyone raced to get their hit of illegal gambling in.
I bypassed the line, marching straight for the suited man who supervised the collection with sharp brown eyes. "Massimo," I said, pulling a roll of cash out of my bralette and placing it in his hand.
"On your boy?" he asked, turning a rare smile my way. Enzo stilled behind me, tucking himself into my spine tightly.
"Damn right," I agreed.
"What's this?" Massimo asked, waving my money around while he studied Enzo. "I thought you didn't date Bellandi men, Sandman?"
Rolling my eyes, I forced myself to smile at the slighted man who possessed a temper severe enough to burn down the world over such a thing. There was a reason he ran the Underground for Matteo—his rage was unparalleled. He tolerated no shit within his domain, and he was not above tossing trouble makers into the ring and taking care of them with his fists.
In short, he was psychotic.
"I don't recall saying that. I only recall saying I wasn't interested in fucking you. You gonna place my bet or not?"
"Maybe you should wait in line like the rest. Since I am so unsavory to you."
Enzo's chest rumbled with his warning growl. "I think you can place her bet or you may find yourself removed from the Underground, Massimo." The two men stared at each other for a minute that only ended when Massimo shook his head full of blond hair and grunted.
He turned disappointed eyes at me. "I thought you liked the Underground. You certainly didn't protest when you took the ring yourself."
"I like coming to fight night, but that doesn't mean I have to want this to be my life, or spread my legs like the women who come seeking a wild ride. I have my own wild ride," I said, tipping my ass back into Enzo's groin. "I'm far too territorial to be with a man who is regularly seduced in public," I teased.
"Shame." Massimo grinned, tension bleeding from his face as his eyes landed on another woman. So easily distracted.
A man like Massimo would never settle down, not when he had a veritable buffet at his disposal. He placed my bet, handing the cash to one of the bookies. He nodded his head at Enzo finally as he guided me through the doors to the arena. Stairs led down to the ring in the center of the enormous room, gold cage bars surrounding it to keep spectators from interfering.
We passed by the Chief of Police smoking a cigar with a pretty girl perched on his lap, making our way around the domed arena until Enzo guided me to the reserved seating for Bellandis. Every other night I'd come, they'd remained unclaimed. We stepped into the box of seats, a very slight semblance of privacy offered by the walls that came up to the height of the seats. The view of the fight happening below us was remarkable, unrivaled by any of the spots where I'd tried to have the best view possible.
"What was that Massimo said about you fighting?" Enzo asked as he tugged me into his lap despite the empty seats.
"It was months ago. I only did it the once."
"What possessed you to risk yourself in a fight where you could have been seriously hurt?"
"The fighter got handsy with a woman the night before. She was scared out of her damn mind. Massimo said he'd take care of him, but I thought it might be more effective to have him publicly get his ass kicked by a woman. I'd seen him fight enough to know that I could beat him. So I did." I shrugged, because everything else was irrelevant.
"And Massimo has a thing for you?" Enzo grunted, his breath tickling the skin of my neck as a warning.
"I wouldn't go that far," I scoffed. "Massimo has a thing for pussy, is more accurate, and I think it surprised him that he liked watching me beat the shit out of Erik. He tried to be the dick waiting in my changing room when the fight was over. I said no and that was that. He's just dramatic."
As the winning fighter danced around in the cage below us, the other one was dragged out unconscious. He'd only just been carted to his dressing room when the next fighter bounced into the ring. No gloves in the Underground, the tape wrapped around his hands contrasted his deep skin as he grinned around his mouth guard.
Dental hygiene was important in fight club.