Page 36 of Bratva Holiday

Mikhail’s gaze moved between the two of us. “When I say stop, that’s it. I want no extra shots thrown in after. Again, I’m looking at you, Lukyan.”

“Jesus, fuck. Will you quit looking at me and start looking at him?”

“I don’t do anything nefarious,” Arty insisted.

“You’re a Mafia drug boss. Your whole life is nefarious.”

Arturo blinked.

“He’s kinda got a point there.” Mikhail agreed.

“As always.” I winked.

“Can we just get on with it?” Arturo grunted.

“So excited to lose, are we, Arty?”

Anger flashed in his blue-green eyes. It was there one moment, and then gone the next, as if he’d shut it down, not allowing it to overcome him.

That would change. If there was one thing I was good at, it was pissing people off. It was sort of…a natural talent of mine.

Mikhail blew a burst of his whistle. “Take your stances.”

I readjusted my footing, my muscles tensed and ready. Arturo did the same. All emotion disappeared from his face, his eyes hardening with determination.

Oooo. This is going to be fun.

“Kick his fucking ass, baby,” Lyla yelled out.

I turned and blew her a kiss. She caught it and shoved it into her mouth aggressively, making me chuckle.

“Fight!” Mikhail declared.

I spun back around. Arturo was already approaching, and he swung an unbelievably fast roundhouse kick.

“Whoa.” I danced back, narrowly avoiding it. I stayed on the tips of my toes, almost bouncing from spot to spot, light as feather on my feet. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Arty. Not very sportsmanly of you to attack an opponent when they’re not looking.”

Arturo smirked. “He said to fight. Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. Why are you moving away? Come on, Lukyan. Let’s fight.”

“I’m not moving away. I’m assessing my options.”

Arturo struck out again with a fast high kick. I brought my left arm up to block and punched with my right. Arturo dodged, swerving out of the way before jumping forward with a powerful knee strike. He hit me square in the solar plexus, pain flaring across my chest. The force of the blow threw me back hard, but my body reacted on autopilot, using the momentum from the strike to roll backward and land in a crouch the second I hit the ground.

“Gonna have to do better than that, Arty.” I taunted him with a smirk.

He didn’t acknowledge me, charging forward to attack again. I flung back, planting my hand into the grass to spring back to my feet and then met him head-on. We traded vicious blow after vicious blow, and as much as it pained me to say it, he was actually pretty good. Very skilled.

The last time we’d fought, it had only been for a moment. In the tag team match, I’d switched out far earlier than needed just to fuck with him. That wasn’t going to happen this time.

No.

This time, the fight was only going to stop if one of us tapped or got knocked out.

Hopefully, not me.

Arturo managed to slip through my guard, and I got a fist right to my already sensitive nose.

“Jesus. Fuck!” I cursed, stumbling back. Blood ran down my face, but I ignored it, rearing back to avoid yet another strike. I ducked under a powerful swing and jabbed him in the side before ramming my knee into his stomach.