Chapter 1

Lorenzo Silva sat on a stool at the Pier, the local bar where everyone in the small town of Tarpon Springs hung out. Not an hour ago, he’d signed his divorce papers and overnighted them to Brazil, where his ex-wife, Marianna, still lived with his now ex–best friend. And all he could think was that he was finally free.

He almost wanted to stand up and do a little happy dance.

Almost.

That would be something very unbecoming of a Silva.

Instead he stared across the bar at the object of his insane attraction for the last year: Jamie Lynn Calhoun, or JL, as everyone but him called her. She was five foot nothing, and today her short pixie-like hair was a light pink, with red nails on one hand and black on the other. The liner around her blue eyes was heavy, and her red lipstick contrasted quite severely against her pale skin. Her overall style made her seem a decade younger than her actual age, thirty. She had on the required shorts and T-shirt that all employees of the bar wore, but she’d added black combat boots that went past her ankles and weren’t even completely laced. She had an intricate tattoo along one entire arm that resembled a lace pattern, while the other arm was bare. He wondered where her other tattoos were hiding. His eyes roamed up her body as her legs moved in his direction.

She leaned her forearms against the bar, giving Enzo a peek at her small, perky breasts. “Were you starin’ at my ass, sugar?”

What he liked most about her was that southern drawl she had from being born and raised in Texas. It seemed out of character with her punk rocker image; it made her seem…softer.

“I may have been.” He lifted his beer at her and winked.

She reached forward and straightened his glasses. “You seem different today. Happy?”

“Happy isn’t quite the word I’d use. More like ecstatic.”

She leaned closer, her familiar flowery scent flooding his senses. “What could’ve possibly been that exciting at the bank that would make you ecstatic?” She loved to tease him about his job, which for some reason she thought was at a bank. Probably because he was always wearing suits—unlike most of the laid-back people he’d met in town.

“You do know I don’t work at a bank, right?”

She tilted her head to the side, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

He laughed. “Yes, really. I help run my family’s business. We acquire properties and businesses and—”

She held out her hand and cut him off. “Yeah, banking seems to sum that up nicely.” Then she leaned over the bar and gave him a once-over. “Damn, are you wearing flip-flops? Are those cargo shorts? On a Wednesday at one in the afternoon? Where’s the rest of your business suit? Oh my God.” She put her hand over her mouth in an over-the-top gesture. “Did you finally have that stick up your ass surgically removed, Pretty Boy?” She slid back down to her side of the counter but reached her palm to his head. “Or maybe you’re sick or something? Fever?”

“Ha-ha. No, I took the day off,” he said, looking down at his clothes. He was wearing his favorite designer polo shirt and linen shorts. It wasn’t like he was wearing a ratty shirt with holes in it or anything. “I signed my divorce papers today. I’m finally free of that evil witch.” He pumped a fist into the air. “Come, have a drink with me. I’m sure you can cut out early.”

“Just because this doesn’t seem like a lucrative career choice compared to the small empire you’re running, it doesn’t mean I don’t have responsibilities. I can’t just ‘cut out early,’ ” she said with an indignant glare.

“I wasn’t being judgmental. Sorry if it came across that way. I just want to have a drink with you, maybe even a meal.”

After making him suffer a little, she finally relented and said, “Just a quick one. Gotta work.” She lined up two shot glasses, filled them with tequila, and handed him one. Then they clinked glasses. “To divorce!” she cheered before tipping it back.

He held his by the rim and laughed. “No. That’s a terrible toast. Not to divorce. To getting rid of my money-grubbing unfaithful ex-wife. May she rot in hell!”

“Whoa! Bitter?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “I’m over it. Just wanted to get that out. I’ve never done that before.”

“What?”

“Call her out. I just really needed to get that off my chest.”

She laughed. “That was it? You can do better than that. Last guy I broke up with, I burned all his clothes.”

“Damn,” he said, looking worried. “Well, I’m done talking about her. Go out with me, Jamie Lynn. I want to celebrate.”

“Can’t. Told you, I’m working.”

“What time do you get off?”

“At five.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going to get in my workout at the Academy, then I’ll meet you back here at five. You’ll spend the rest of the day with me.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes as she walked away to tend to another customer. “Keep dreamin’, darling,” she said over her shoulder. “The answer is still no. Just ’cause you rule that little empire of yours with an iron fist—”

“What?” he said with a snort.

“Just assuming from your usual staid personality that you’re some sort of a hard-assed boss. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m not one of your employees, someone you can dictate orders to,” she said as she mixed drinks. “Besides, I have plans.”

Plans?

This was the second time she’d rejected him because of “plans.” He’d asked her out repeatedly for months. And five weeks ago, he had even grabbed life by the balls and kissed her—a brazen act that had surprised both of them. The kiss had been off-the-charts hot, startling even him. She’d melted into his arms and given herself over to him completely, and for the minute their mouths had been connected, he’d thought there was no possible way she’d turn him down again. Except she had, even though he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That kiss had said it all. The way she’d trembled in his arms and moaned softly couldn’t be denied. Why she was so hesitant to go out with him was something he couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what was holding her back; he didn’t think there was another man, though he couldn’t help but wonder.

Enzo finished his drink, slapped more money than necessary on the counter, waved goodbye, and left. He wasn’t going to give up. Not at all. Tomorrow he’d try his luck with the little pixie again.

As soon as Enzo walked out of the Pier the Florida heat smacked him in the face. He needed to get out more often. He was usually stuck in an office, even when he lived in Brazil, and he didn’t get to enjoy the outdoors nearly enough.

He walked the few blocks down to Worth the Fight Academy, the mixed martial arts training gym partly owned by his cousin and only family in Florida, Francesca Silva. Growing up privileged, the very elite of Brazilian society, he’d attended the best schools and socialized only with the children of those who ran in his parents’ circle. He’d known about the poverty that infested parts of Brazil, but he’d never witnessed it until he was twelve years old and saw his first Brazilian jiujitsu bout in a favela. After that he became obsessed with learning the hugely popular martial art. Unfortunately, his parents were completely and utterly against their son doing something so “beneath” him, calling it a savage sport for the poor.

The only rebellious thing Enzo had ever done in his thirty-two years of life was the seven years he’d spent pretending he was taking piano lessons but was instead learning and training in jiujitsu. It wasn’t a hard lie to keep up, since his mother and father were frequently out of town, and even when they were in town, they weren’t the hands-on type of parents. In fact, they paid other people to do most of the parenting. Plus he was actually very gifted at playing the piano, so keeping up the ruse hadn’t been that difficult.

As soon as he’d heard that Francesca was moving to Tarpon Springs to take over her father’s MMA academy, he’d decided that he needed a change as well. He wanted to get as far away from Marianna and the shitstorm that the divorce was bringing the family and their joint businesses. So he’d run away like a pussy, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand one more minute of the insistent hounding from everyone who thought the divorce was a mistake.

Enzo walked into the Academy and immediately headed for the big steel cage that sat in the middle of the gym. There, Francesca’s husband, Tony, was sparring with Cain, another fighter and trainer. “You came to train?” Tony asked, without taking his eyes off his opponent.

“Yes. I’m ready to fight in the February bout.”

Tony snorted out a laugh and ducked as Cain threw a front kick.

“Come on, Tony. Sign me up,” Enzo said. He’d been asking for months now. It seemed he wasn’t getting anywhere with anything in Tarpon Springs. Asking Jamie Lynn out was the equivalent of hitting his head against a brick wall, and getting Tony to agree to let him shift from amateur fighter to professional was even worse, because Tony didn’t even bother to answer—he just laughed as if it was the funniest, most absurd thing ever. Luckily, Enzo had been able to establish himself quickly on the business side of things. Work was the only thing he could count on, and he was proud at how successful he’d been since arriving in Florida. He was so close to finally getting his investors to agree to do his bidding, he could almost taste the payday. Finally his father would be proud. It was the biggest deal he’d ever brokered without his father’s help. He’d run lead on it, and it was going to make millions for Silva Conglomerate LLC. The bonus was that it would get his father off his back about returning to Brazil.

Tony dodged a blow as he said, “I already told you, you’re not ready. You’ll get yourself killed.” He threw a punch, which didn’t connect with Cain’s jaw. “You get your ass here every day for a month and I’ll think about letting you fight in the amateur bout that’s coming up.”

Slade, the other owner of the Academy, walked by and joined the conversation. “As long as you treat this as a hobby, you stay amateur. You want to go pro, you start taking it seriously.”

“I can win against anyone right here, right now,” Enzo said cockily, pushing off the fence. Unlike most of the guys who trained at WtF Academy, he had another job and hadn’t been able to dedicate as much time as he wanted to training. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready. He was a completely different man from the one who’d walked into the Academy nearly a year ago. He had gained almost twenty pounds of muscle and had never felt as lean and physically able as he did at the moment. He just needed a chance to prove it.

Tony signaled for Cain to stop sparring and smirked at Enzo. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Then he whistled to Travis, Enzo’s closest friend in Tarpon Springs and Jamie Lynn’s brother, who sat on a bench, doing biceps curls with one arm while eating a banana with the other.

“Yo, Tex, gear up and get your ass inside the cage,” Tony called. “Your buddy needs to learn that we don’t make idle threats in here.”

Travis, also known as “Texas” because of his southern drawl and because, well, he was from Texas, stopped what he was doing, sauntered casually over to the cage, and began to get ready. Travis never seemed to care about much. He was as laid-back as they came. How the two had become such great friends was surprising, since Enzo was the complete opposite.

“This is the deal. Your buddy here”—Tony pointed at Enzo—“says he can kick your ass.” Enzo rolled his eyes but didn’t bother correcting him. “What do you think about that?”

As Cain chuckled and hopped out of the cage to watch the spectacle, Travis put his mouthguard in place and stepped inside. Enzo finished lacing up his gloves and followed. “What do I get out of this little bet?” Travis said, his words muffled by the mouthguard.

“What do you want?” Slade asked, amused.

Travis looked up, thinking, for a moment. Then a sly smile spread across his face. Immediately Enzo knew it would be payback for flirting endlessly with his sister. “It’ll be a surprise,” Travis said.

“Fine. Whatever,” Tony said. He turned his attention to Enzo. “If you win, I’ll sign you up for the pro fight and dedicate my time to training you myself. If you lose, you settle for the amateur circuit.”

Enzo nodded, and Slade shut the cage. The clanging of metal against metal and the sudden silence set Enzo’s adrenaline pumping.

“Okay, guys, rules are simple,” Tony announced. “First guy to tap out loses.”

Enzo had a weight, height, and reach advantage over Travis, but Travis had speed. Enzo quickly figured this out, as Travis’s fist connected with his jaw just moments after Tony rang the bell. Enzo’s ear rang from the impact, and he couldn’t make out what the men on the other side of the cage were yelling. Travis was lightly jumping up and down on his toes, and when Enzo tried to lunge at him and take him down, Travis easily moved out of the way, causing Enzo to fall flat on his face. Without even breaking a sweat, Travis sat casually on Enzo’s back. “I think you should tap out, brother,” Travis said with a laugh, but Enzo knew he was right. It had taken Travis less than a minute to knock Enzo on his ass, but it’d been the most exhausting minute of Enzo’s life.

Travis stood and extended his hand, helping Enzo to his feet.

“Like I said, you’re not ready,” Tony cracked.

“Tex, man, you’re a fuckin’ ninja. You’re so damn fast,” Slade exclaimed as he opened up the cage. Travis shrugged and headed out to the locker room. A moment later he came back and shoved a wrinkled piece of paper toward Enzo.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he said to Enzo with a grin. “Maybe this will teach you to be less of a cocky bastard.”

Enzo skimmed the piece of paper, then groaned. “Seriously? This is ridiculous. You’re not really going to make me do this, are you?”

Slade snatched the paper from Enzo’s hand. He, Cain, and Tony huddled together, reading it, and all three roared with laughter.

Tony pulled out his phone. “Sorry, gotta call my wife to let her know I’m going to be late for dinner.”

“You’re coming too?” Enzo whined.

“Fuck yeah! I wouldn’t miss this shit for the world.”

Slade and Cain followed suit and reached for their phones to call their girlfriends. “You’re the most uptight guy I’ve ever met. I ain’t missing this, either,” Slade said.

“Go shower,” Tony teased Enzo. “No one wants to see your naked sweaty balls.”

Enzo was fuming as he got into the shower. The happiness he’d felt earlier about finally being free of his ex-wife was gone, replaced by dread. He had gone to the best schools in Brazil and then gotten an MBA from Wharton—he didn’t do things like this! But he also never reneged on a bet. If this whole embarrassing episode had taught him one thing, it was that next time he needed to train a lot harder or shut the hell up.