Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance Duet #1) - W.S. Greer Page 0,3

a scowl on his face that frightens me. He has blue eyes and lips that look too big for his face. Something about him reminds me of an evil villain I’d see in a movie—he’s the guy beating the crap out of the hero.

“Are you okay?” he says. His voice is deeper than every other boy’s voice I’ve ever heard.

“Umm,” I begin, but the chubby kid steals my attention when he gets up and walks towards me.

“She hit me first, so I’m allowed to hit her back. So, move, Ugly Dominic,” the chubby kid says with a chuckle.

It all happens so fast after that.

The big kid snaps around and punches the chubby one in the face. Chubby stumbles backwards, but the big one grabs him by his shirt and throws him on the ground right in front of me. Sand goes flying everywhere as the big kid jumps on top of the chubby one and punches him in the face again, just before grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head over so that he’s looking at me.

“Apologize,” the big kid says, calmly. “Look at her and tell you’re sorry. Now.”

The chubby kid looks up at me as blood streams from his nose and tears fall from his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, just before he loses it and starts bawling like a baby as he cover his nose with both hands.

I don’t even know what to say. I look at him for a second, then I look up at the other kid. At first, I was terrified of him, but now I’m not sure what to be.

The big kid lets the chubby one go, then helps me up off the ground. As I stand, he reaches down and starts knocking sand off my clothes while I struggle to get it off my face and out of my hair. The two of us walk away from the crowd of kids who are gathering to look down at the boy on the ground bleeding and crying.

“He won’t mess with you, anymore,” the kid says. He looks at me with an expressionless face, and my heart pounds with anxiety.

“Thank you,” I reply, nervously.

“You’re new here, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My name’s Dominic,” he greets, but he doesn’t smile so it’s not very comforting.

“I’m Alannah,” I reply, just as the door behind me swings open and three teachers come out. The two women go tend to the crying boy who’s still on the ground, but Mr. Bishop comes trotting up to us.

“Dominic, can I talk to you for a minute?” he says. He doesn’t look happy. “I was told you beat up Billy Hannigan. Punched him in the face and threw him on the ground. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” is all Dominic says in response.

“Why’d you do that, Dominic?”

“He was trying to bully Alannah.” He says it like he’s not even concerned with getting in trouble.

“He bullied Alannah, so you bullied him? Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what he gets for putting his hands on the girls.”

“Well, that’s not how we do things, Mr. Collazo. Violence is not how you solve your problems. I’m going to need you to come with me to the principal’s office.”

Dominic shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he starts to follow Mr. Bishop towards the school. Before he steps inside, he turns around.

“Bye, Alannah” he says, then he smiles for the first time. Why would he smile when he knows he’s about to be in trouble with the principal?

I feel tingly all over as I smile back at him, but before I can say bye, he’s already inside.

For the rest of the day, I don’t speak to anyone except Mr. Bishop.

The only kid I speak to my entire first day of school is Dominic Collazo.

Dominic Collazo

“I got suspended yesterday.”

My father, Donnie, puts his Cadillac in park and stares straight ahead. He lets out a sigh of frustration before he turns to me. He’s completely clean shaven with blue eyes that are enhanced by his thick glasses. His black hair is slick and the scars on his left cheek remind me of how hard a life he’s had. I’m proud he made it through it all. He’s one hundred percent Italian, thirty-five years old, and doesn’t take any crap from anybody. He’s my idol.

“What’d you do?” he asks, glancing towards the windshield at the packed parking lot in front of us.

“I punched Billy in the face. He was being a jerk.”

“A jerk, huh? What was