“Seriously, Rafe. Fuck the shit outta her.”

“Is that an order?”

“Damn right. You’ve earned a piece of that.”

I was one sick SOB because I felt he was right.

5. DISORDERLY - ALEX

The first time I saw Rafe Mason, he was beating the crap out of my brother. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but watching through the inexperienced eyes of a 13-year-old, even I’d realized Zach didn’t stand a chance.

Rafe was all rippling muscle, sweat dripping down his biceps as he tightened his choke hold. Let me back up here. They hadn’t really been fighting. They’d been in the middle of an intense sparring match at one of the gyms our father owned. Fuck if I’d cared though. I couldn’t take my eyes off Rafe. His dark and wild hair, plastered to his forehead from sweat, had curled slightly above squinted green eyes. I remembered Mom’s stiff posture and the rigid set of her back as we stood watching. Her mouth had fallen open, as if she were this close to shouting “let him go!” We’d come in on the tail end of the session, and Mom should have known better. She never could stomach watching Zach get his balls handed to him.

Rafe hadn’t just handed them over—he’d shoved them down his throat. That was the day he and Zach became best friends. Predictably so, that was also the day I developed the biggest crush on Rafe.

By the time I entered my freshman year of high school, I became Miss Popularity because of two reasons: one, I was a De Luca—the adopted daughter of Abbott De Luca, famous for his impressive record in the UFC; and two, I was sister to rising star Zachariah De Luca. Having a connection to Rafe Mason, who had surpassed my brother in skill, tenacity, and ruthlessness in the business sealed my fate. I became an “it” girl.

I hated “it” girls, but they didn’t seem fazed by my blatant indifference, as not one of them passed up an opportunity to hang out at my house. They were in it for the testosterone, and I didn’t really care, so long as they kept their hands off Rafe. He might have been six years my senior, but in my head, he was mine, though someone forgot to tell him.

However, Zach noticed me noticing his best friend, and that’s when the jealousy began, the dangerous possessiveness. Their friendship had shifted to more of a competitive nature.

Ever since our parents married, Zach and I had been tight, probably closer than most blood related siblings. We often slept in the same bed, huddled under the covers when Dad’s drinking got out of hand, or when my mom had another episodic break that necessitated a trip to the mental ward. Their marriage had crumbled under screams that pierced ears too young to understand the words being launched through the air like weapons of mass destruction.

Having Zach at my side calmed me, but as I grew older, I realized how off our relationship was, especially once Rafe’s presence got under Zach’s skin, and my brother had morphed into a stranger before my eyes.