Jezebel Koko Brown (best books to read non fiction txt) 📖

“What’s up,boss?” His personal assistant, Marcello greeted him on theother end.

“I need you to clearthe rest of my afternoon.”

“Okay.” Leoheard the hesitancy in the other man’s voice. “You’renot sick, are you?”

Ifhe were in a good mood, Leo would have smiled. He was notorious forhis work ethic. He worked so many hours, his staff, which nownumbered in the double digits, had nicknamed him the 80-HourMan―behind his back, of course.

“No, I’m headinguptown to HBC. I need to work through some things, let off somesteam.”

Damn,too much information. His assistant knew he and Roxanne had a latelunch every Tuesday and Thursday. And since he’d left in a goodmood, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure outsomething had gone down between the two of them.

Extremely private when itcame to his personal life, Leo gripped the steering wheel eventighter. Roxanne had him so turned inside out he wasn’tbehaving like himself.

There was a long pause onthe other end and then Marcello’s baritone voice driftedthrough the receiver. “No problem, boss. I can shuffle Mr.Lloyd around. Any phone calls you would like me to pass on to you?”

“No.” He knewMarcello was fishing for information.

“See you tomorrow.Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Same to you,”Leo replied automatically. He doubted he’d be able to reallyenjoy anything for quite some time. He’d made sure of it byalienating Roxanne.

* * * * *

Only five blocks from hisparents’ home, the Halsted Boxing Club was so far removed fromthe shiny, spotless gyms most hip Chicagoans flocked to.

Truth be known, many localsbarely knew the club existed since the brick building still resembledthe public bathhouse it once housed during the first half of thenineteenth century.

The interior wasn’tmuch of an improvement. Converted into a boxing club in the early1950s, Halsted remained dark, dank and smelled worse than the insideof an old gym bag. Leo wouldn’t want it any other way.

The place kept him grounded,reminded him of how far he’d come from the hard-headedfourteen-year-old disciple of the No Mercy Graffiti Masters. To thisday, Leo still marveled over the fact he hadn’t ended up behindbars or living on a park bench, still breaking into train yards. Buthe’d straightened his life out—or had it straightened outfor him by the gym’s owner.

Salvatore Cipriani hadcaught him defacing the front of the building with a Papadopoulosoriginal. Instead of turning him in to the cops, he’d marchedLeo down to his father at the family restaurant and told him to getone last look, because Cipriani now owned Leo’s ass, lock,stock and barrel.

The crotchety,third-generation Sicilian hadn’t been bluffing. He put Leo towork fixing what he’d damaged. What should have only been twodays, Leo’s punishment lasted two months as Cipriani had himrepairing or repainting practically everything.

But by then, Leo didn’tcare. He was so hooked on boxing he was making up excuses to stickaround. Thankfully the old man took pity on him and opened a spot forhim on the youth boxing team. One single act of charity had led tohalf a dozen amateur boxing titles and a four-year academicscholarship from the USA Boxing Association, which he’d used toattend Northwestern University.

He’d paid his debt,but Leo received far more in return. He attributed his strictpersonal discipline, his successful career, multimillion-dollarfortune and even Roxanne to boxing.

As his thoughts turned toRoxanne, Leo developed a mental hard-on. What’s new? He’dbeen in lust with the curvaceous brown-skinned beauty since themoment he’d laid eyes on her outside the college bookstoreseveral weeks into their freshman year, and secretly in love with herby the time they’d graduated.

Now he’d gone andruined a perfectly good friendship by allowing his one-eyed monsterto lead, instead of his head. After all these years, why had hedecided to finally walk the line?

Simple—her rare sexualconfessional had turned him on.

“Great job, dumbass,”Leo muttered, retying the drawstring on his dark-blue athletic pants.

“You’re hereearly.” Salvatore Cipriani’s gravelly bark followed Leoas he set himself up under a speed bag. The club’s owner hadjust hobbled out of his tiny office, carrying a mug of God knows whatin one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. He glanced over attwo guys sparring in the club’s center ring and snapped, “Keepyour hands up, Rodney, unless you want your head to take the place ofyour ass.” Without missing a beat, he turned back to Leo.“What’s wrong?”

Leo rolled his shoulders.Sometimes he hated how well the old guy knew him. “I came in toexorcise a few demons.”

Salvatore’s shaggyeyebrows shot skyward. “Demons? They wouldn’t be of thefemale kind, would they?”

Leo shook his head.Salvatore could read people like a book. “How’d youguess?”

“You have a great headfor business and you’ve tackled everything else with ease.Females, on the other hand, have always been your Achilles heel.”

“I hit on Roxanne.”

Salvatore nodded solemnly.He’d met Roxanne on several occasions and, with a sixth sense,he’d picked up on Leo’s secret infatuation. And eversince, the old man pestered him on an almost constant basis tofinally seal the deal. “‘Bout time,” Salvatorebarked. “When’s the special day?”

Leo shook his head.“Roxanne’s not interested. She doesn’t want to ruinour ten-year friendship.”

“Pshaah!”Salvatore waved his newspaper in the air. “What a load of shit.If a woman is really attracted to you, she won’t give a damn ifyou’ve been friends for three minutes, three days or thirtyyears.”

Leo rested his taped handson his hips. “Now you know why I’m here rather than atwork.”

Salvatore swatted the paperagainst his leg. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Leomuttered. In an attempt to close the subject, he lifted his arms andstarted working the bag. He didn’t get a chance to work up amomentum because Salvatore stepped around him and smacked his handagainst the back of the bag.

“Nothing? You’renot going to try to convince her?”

“I don’t beg,”Leo countered with more attitude than he felt, but he didn’tneed this right now. He was trying to blow off steam, not become evenmore worked up.

“Begging isn’tconvincing. She just needs to see you in a different light.”

Leo almost rolled his eyesbut didn’t out of respect. Salvatore believed he knew the artof seduction like he knew how to train a prize fighter. And he’dtrained dozens over the years.

“You need to lay downthe three Ts.”

“The three Ts?”Leo asked hesitantly, unsure