WOUNDS OF silk

4. Sloane

"Is your new mommy hot?" Ashton asked in a released breath, bracing his arms in front of him, to shield his face from his attacker. He knew he shouldn't irk Sloane when his mind was elsewhere lately than focusing on the task at hand.

"Cut the shit and focus. Else I will kick you hard to get your ass back on the game." Sloane didn't wait for his friend's rambling to come to an end. He lunged forward and rained down punches on his stomach.

Ashton often, if not always, had his own made-up theory about anything. Everything. He just didn't know when to shut up, not even when fresh blood dribbling down his mouth from earlier blows. He flashed his teeth in an attempt to pester Sloane and fully succeeded. His white teeth stained in blood and lips bleed in red.

"Man, stop flashing me your teeth. You look like a fucking vampire, came out of nowhere and walked into the gym in the broad daylight. You're creeping me out." Ashton rolled his eyes and chuckled. He pointed his finger at his mouth and uttered, "This is bothering you. What about the shithead you punctured holes in his chest the other day? Huh!"

Sloane brushed off his comment with a shrug, "At least the shithead knows when not to test my patience and shut up. And here you are talking my ear off. Now, quit your blabbering and strike me back, or I will break your bones."

It was not an idle threat. A demand. A plead.

Sloane was craving to get hurt. He needed a heavy dosage of pain to suppress his turbulence thoughts clawing inside his head. He couldn't think straight. A growing headache was on the brink before ready to burst out. He felt like he was losing his mind, replaying the news his father spilled over a phone call, three nights ago at dinner.

His brother, Chernoa, was the one to deliver the disturbing news. After his brother cut off the phone call, he didn't say anything straight away. Chernoa waited until the staffs took away their used plates and replaced them with desserts and then altogether left the dining hall.

Sloane knew very well, his brother wasn't simply cutting pie and took a spoonful. He was stretching the silence to formulate his words and how to share the news of his father's marriage to him.

Chernoa was just as much as shocked as his brother but he mastered in keeping his emotions in check. His thoughts were private and his struggles were for him to burden with. Chernoa was almost like his father in terms of his cold eyes and calm demeanour but other than that there was nothing to compare and there was no resemble. And that made him a deserving underboss.

Chernoa was patient and intelligent, whereas, Sloane was troubled and preferred to use his fists more than his words. His brother would never blatantly stood up for an argument with their father. He would never challenge him. But Sloane never feared to speak up his mind, though it never ended well, still he was not the one to back down easily. At least, not to his father which led to more arguments and tensions, straining their relationships.

When Chernoa shared the news, Sloane couldn't believe what he was hearing. But knowing his father, it couldn't be unexpected. A huge mistake on his father's part and also on his by doing nothing, stood aside and let it all happen.

But what could he do?

Sloane didn't know beforehand, even if he did what power he held over his father to meddle with his life choices and affairs. He never expected his father would go to such extent as if fucking whores every night on his marriage bed wasn't enough. Now, he needed to disrespect the memory of his late mother by marrying someone in less than a year of his mother's death. Fucking the same faces from blonde to brunette and back to the blonde, must have satisfied his fill.

A hit on the square of his jaw took his mind off, "Aren't you a little bit curious how she might look like?"

"Knowing my father and his tastes in his whores, I have a pretty good idea. Probably someone younger, hot and blonde."

"What I have heard she is much younger than your father?"

"That not news."

"Fake tits. Skilful mouth." Aston shook his head with laughter, cracking up at his own joke. "How would you manage not to stay hard around her? If I were you I would have imagined my new mommy naked and jerked in the shower."

Sloane hit him hard on his ribs, Ashton defended himself by kicking him over his thigh. Sloane staggered to his feet, swaying a little before he lunged forward. He took Ashton by surprise and hit him back. They both collapsed on the ground. Sloane rolled off his friend and straightened to his feet.

Ashton didn't back down, finally, he was getting the heat of it. He wheeled around Sloane like a bull, puffing air and marking his target before striking back. Sloane hunched his shoulders and waiting for an attack. Ashton charged at him, Sloane jumped out of his way, dodging his aim. Sloane moved behind him before curling his arm around his neck and flipped back, taking Ashton with him. Soon, painful groans, thumping of flesh against another, bruised knuckles muffled the other noises in the gym.

"Boys! Sloane, you have exactly one hour before your father will land on the American soil. Go home and freshen up. You still stink like cheap booze and sluts from your last night party. Believe me, you don't want to greet your father looking like shit." Oscar, his father's consigliere, barked out orders.

Ashton spoke up before I could fire back, "what's wrong with wearing gym shorts?"

Sloane looked over at Ashton, he was wearing nothing besides boxing brief, matted hair clung to his forehead, bare chest drenched in sweat and specks of blood coated his chin. Sloane knew for certain that he couldn't be looking any different than his friend.

Sloane scoffed and shook his head, "My father can't afford to scare his little bride. Now, does he?" He held Oscar's gaze in total contempt and when he was satisfied enough that he was not going to get a reaction from him, he turned away without giving him a fraction of his attention. But he didn't miss how Oscar clenched his fists at his sides, enforcing his control.

Sloane unscrewed the cap of a bottle and poured over the cool liquid before jiggling his head to shake off the excess water from his unruly curls.

"Huh! Finally, you're admitting your new mommy is a little girl." Ashton remarked from the other side of the boxing ring as he wiped his face with a towel.

"Boys behave. We don't want to fall into an awkward silence before your new mother." Oscar directed the command at him.

Sloane gritted his teeth and forced out, "Don't you dare to call her that. That woman is nothing. And she will never be something." Sloane made his way towards the bathroom stalls to wash off the dirt and sweat.

"Forty-five minutes left." Oscar barked out before he left the ground altogether.