Twisted Hearts(48)

“Savio,” she gritted out.

I sat up and pulled Gemma up with me just when the door opened. It wasn’t the driver though. Diego stood in the door and his expression darkened upon seeing the state Gemma was in. Some of her hair had fallen out of her updo and framed her face in messy curls, her lips were swollen and her face flushed.

I slipped out of the car, then helped Gemma to her feet. She avoided Diego’s eyes like he did hers. He had no trouble glaring at me though. He brought his mouth close to my ear. “Couldn’t you have waited until tonight, you asshole?”

I chuckled. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Diego. Gemma is still perfectly entitled to that snow-white dress. I can wait until tonight.”

Gemma was definitely pissed at me after that. Probably because she hated how hot and wet I could get her with a few kisses.

When I led her into the garden where everything for the feast had been set up, thanks to Kiara’s organization skills, Gemma’s expression morphed into one of awe. It was an outdoor wedding. The chances of rain in Vegas were close to zero at this time, so tents would have been a waste. Dozens of round tables filled the center of the garden, which offered more than enough room. Behind them, a dancefloor had been set up which was covered by garlands which would illuminate the place once night fell. I didn’t much care about the flower decorations, but Gemma seemed happy with it and that was all that mattered.

This was the biggest wedding that the Camorra had seen in decades, since our parents had married, and every Underboss and Captain was in attendance as well as Luca as the leading man of the Famiglia. Remo had been wary of having the festivities on our premises, but it would have suggested weakness if we’d been too cautious about inviting our men into our home.

Gemma shook her head, obviously overwhelmed.

Soon the guests took their places and food was served. Gemma was oddly quiet when we moved to the dancefloor for our first dance. With hundreds of eyes on us, she presented her most beautiful smile, but I saw the lingering sadness. It would have been her father’s turn to dance with her after this.

She swallowed, her eyes darting to the black sky. “Do you think Dad and Nonna are watching?”

A tricky question. I wasn’t a believer. I kissed her temple and tightened my hold on her, leaning down to her ear. “Your dad would be happy to see you like this. And your nonna would be proud of you for making it to your wedding night before succumbing to my charm.”

Gemma choked out a laugh, slapping my chest lightly. “You are so full of yourself.”

I kissed her lips, glad that she was smiling again.

Diego danced with his sister after that and I danced with their mom. One dance followed the other after that, an endless string of women coming and going. I’d made sure that none of my past lovers were invited, which wasn’t a problem considering I’d steered clear of Italian women. Diego wasn’t that lucky. His dance with Toni was a prime show of awkwardness.

“Dance with me,” a high voice said.

I lowered my drink. I’d only just managed to escape the dance floor and now found myself staring at a girl with black hair and blue eyes. “Is that an order?” I asked.

From across the room, I found Remo to see his reaction to my predicament, but he wasn’t looking my way. He was watching Luca with narrowed eyes. Luca, on the other hand, looked at me as if he was currently imagining how to slice me into the tiniest pieces possible.

His daughter batted her lashes at me. A death trap in the making, that girl. “It would be rude of you to say no.”

“Is that so?” I asked, setting down my drink.

“Definitely,” she said.

“Remind me of your name again.” I knew her name, everyone did, but she was a bit too confident.

Indignation flashed on her face, a flicker of childish poutiness. “Marcella Vitiello.”

“Ahh, yes, now I remember.”

She flushed, obviously confused by my bored voice. In New York, everyone probably fawned over her like she was a princess.

“Are you going to dance with me or not?”

“That’s a polite or not.”

“You’re scared of my dad,” she muttered. “I thought in Las Vegas, at least, people would be braver.”

“I’m not scared of your dad, Marcella. If you’re so brave, go to my brother Remo and dance with him. I have a wife I need to keep entertained.” I gave her a nod, then walked away. I wouldn’t be the pawn of a pre-pubescent spoiled princess from New York.

I went in search of Gemma, who I hadn’t seen in a while. I found her at our second pool, staring at the illuminated cascades. Her arms were wrapped around her middle. She wasn’t crying, which was a huge relief. I snaked my arms around her from behind, making her jump.

“Why are you hiding out here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just needed to get away from all the attention for a moment.”

I kissed her throat. “See, it wasn’t so bad having your first kiss before today without all these fuckers watching.”

“I doubt Nonna would agree with that,” she said, a mix of guilt and sadness reflecting on her beautiful face.

“You really think she would have been mad at you for having a few kisses before we got married? You’re my wife now, so what does it matter?”

“I don’t know what she would have thought because I can’t ask her, because she’s not here. Neither is Dad.” Her voice wavered and she quickly turned her head away, but I caught the treacherous glistening of her eyes.

“Fuck, Gem,” I said in a low voice. Turning her around, I gripped her face and pressed our foreheads together. “You know they both would have wanted you to be happy. That’s all they wanted.”

She searched my eyes. “Will you make me happy?”

Several answers manifested themselves on the tip of my tongue, none of them appropriate in a situation like this. But the truth was, I wasn’t fucking sure. This marriage was the result of my dick running the fucking show. I wanted Gemma in my bed, and for that to happen, I needed to seal the deal. Of course, that wasn’t all there was to it. But I’d never had to take care of someone. I’d always only done what I wanted, fucked who I wanted. Now that was over. Gemma was my wife.

Fuck, that truth hit me like a sledgehammer.

Gemma huffed. “You’re already regretting this, aren’t you?” She tried to pull away, but I tightened my hold on her.

“I’m not,” I said firmly. It was the truth. I’d marry Gemma again, and not just so I could bury myself in her undoubtedly pretty pussy, but also because I wanted her for myself in every other regard as well. The idea that Mick could have gotten her still sent me into a jealous rage.

But now forever stretched before us in all its terrifying magnitude. Could I make her happy outside of the bedroom? Looking into Gemma’s vulnerable eyes, I wanted nothing more, but I just didn’t know.

I kissed Gemma because that was something I could do. My tongue stroked hers, the promise of more. She leaned into me, allowed me to avoid an answer, a little sin of omission. A rustling made me pull back, my body tensing and hand going to the gun under my jacket.





Toni and Diego stepped out from behind a bush, looking ruffled. One of Toni’s spaghetti straps hung off her shoulder, her lipstick was gone, and her hairdo was ruined. Diego didn’t make a better sight with his wrongly buttoned shirt, open zipper and tousled hair.

I grimaced.

Savio didn’t share my embarrassment. “Sex with the ex?”

I stifled a laugh at my brother’s caught expression. Toni looked completely mortified, so I decided to save her before Savio said something that would make it worse. I went over to her and grabbed her hand, then led her away to another secluded spot of the ridiculously vast premises.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

I gave her a look. “Toni, there are only two reasons why I don’t want to see it: I’d rather pretend my brother doesn’t have a sex life, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You know how it ends.”

She shrugged. “It’s just sex. I’m not holding my breath for a relationship with him.”

I gave her a doubtful look.

“It’s true,” she said. “But the sex is too good to say no.”

My nose scrunched up. “Toni, please.”

She laughed and touched my cheeks. “You’re turning red again. I wonder how long that’ll last now that you’re married to Savio.”

I glanced at my elegant gold watch, my seventeenth birthday gift from Savio. It was almost midnight, which was the designated time to retire for the groom and bride. A hint of nerves filled my belly thinking about spending the night with Savio. I’d been in his bed before, but I hadn’t been myself back then, so it seemed almost like a dream, not something that had really happened.

Toni linked our hands. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m not going to sleep with Savio tonight.”

Surprise flashed across Toni’s face. Wasn’t she the one who’d told me to make him work for it after how much of an asshole he had been? It seemed sex with my brother had shifted her priorities momentarily.

“Really? After years of pining for him, you won’t allow yourself a joyride on his bull?”