Chapter 1

Enzo 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.

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 pixielike hair was purple and pink, and her nails on one hand were red, 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 of 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 so exciting at a 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. “Oh, damn, are you wearing flip-flops? Are those cargo shorts? On a Thursday 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. “Are you 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 on it or anything. “I signed my divorce papers today. I’m finally free of that evil witch.” He pumped his fists 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, I 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 or a meal with you.”

After making him suffer a little, she finally smiled 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 it by his lips 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.”

“Do 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.”

“Here’s the plan. I’m going to go get my workout in 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.

“Rumor is you’re a hard-assed boss. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m not one of your employees 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 the 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 that their mouths were connected, he thought that there was no possible way she’d turn him down again. Except that she had, even though he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That kiss said it all. The way she trembled in his arms and moaned softly couldn’t be denied. Why she was so hesitant in going 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, but 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 those that ran in his parents’ circle. He knew about the poverty that infested parts of Brazil, but never witnessed it until he was twelve years old and saw his first Brazilian jiu jitsu 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” them, 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 spent pretending he was in piano lessons but was instead learning and training in jiu jitsu. It wasn’t a hard lie to keep up since his parents were frequently out of town, and even when they were in town, they weren’t hands-on parents. In fact, they paid 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 heard that Francesca was moving to Tarpon Springs to take over her father’s Academy, he decided that he needed to move. 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 ran 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 MMA training gym. Francesca’s husband, Tony, was currently sparring with Cain, another fighter and trainer. “You came to train?” Tony asked without taking his eyes off of 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,” he 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 that had ever been uttered. 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 in Florida since arriving. 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 Silva Conglomerate LLC millions. The bonus would be that it would get his father off his back as to his timeline for returning to Brazil.

Tony dodged a punch as he said, “I already told you, you’re not ready. You’ll get yourself killed.” He threw a punch, which didn’t connect to 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 as he angrily pushed off the fence. Unlike most of the guys that 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 than when he walked into the Academy nearly a year ago. He had gained almost twenty pounds of muscle and never felt as lean and physically able as he did at the moment. He just needed a chance to prove it. Until recently, Enzo was not a man who often heard the word “no,” and this wouldn’t be any different.

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, who sat on a bench, doing bicep curls with one arm while eating a banana with the other. He also just happened to be Jamie Lynn’s brother.

“Yo, Tex, gear up and get your ass inside the cage,” Slade demanded. “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 and sauntered casually over to the cage and began to get ready. Travis never seemed to care about much. He was as laid-back as it 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 Tony. “What you think about that?”

Cain chuckled and hopped out of the cage and leaned against the wall to watch the spectacle. Travis snorted as he put his mouth guard in place and stepped inside. Enzo finished lacing up his gloves and followed. “What do I get out of this little bet?” Travis mumbled, spittle trickling out through his mouth guard.

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

Travis looked up as if he was thinking, and then he smirked. Immediately Enzo knew it would be payback for Enzo 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 his adrenaline pumping. “Okay, guys, rules are simple: First guy to tap out loses.”

Enzo had weight, height, and reach advantage over Travis, but Travis had speed. Enzo quickly figured this out as soon as Tony had gotten out of the way and rang the bell and Travis’s fist connected with his jaw. His ear rang from the impact and he couldn’t make out what the men on the other side of the cage were yelling. Travis jumped up and down on his toes so quickly that when Enzo tried to lunge at him and take him down, Travis was already 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 laughed but he was right. The minute it had taken Travis to knock Enzo on his ass was the most exhausting minute of his life. Travis stood and extended his hand and helped Enzo to his feet.

“As I said: You’re not ready,” Tony said from the other side of the cage.

“Tex, man, you’re a fuckin’ ninja. You’re so damn fast,” Slade said as he opened up the cage. Travis shrugged and headed out to the locker room. A moment later he came back and crushed a crinkled piece of paper on Enzo’s aching chest.

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

Enzo read the piece of paper and 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 before bursting into a roar of 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 shit either,” Slade said.

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

Enzo was fuming by the time he got into the shower. All the happiness from finally feeling free from the shackles of his ex-wife was gone and replaced by dread.

Embarrassing dread. He had gone to the best schools in Brazil and then got an MBA from Wharton. He didn’t do things like this, but he also never reneged on a bet. If this taught him one thing, it was that next time he needed to train a lot harder or shut the hell up.