Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)(15)

He was worried I’d attack his wife? Maybe using her as a human safety shield would have gotten me out of the mansion, but I wasn’t that brave. If I failed, I knew what that would mean because the look in Nino’s eyes sent an icy shiver down my spine.

“I will stay,” he said firmly, looking straight at me as he walked in, closed the door, and leaned against the wall. “And if you make a move toward my wife, the consequences will be very unpleasant.”

Kiara’s cheeks turned red. She gave me an apologetic smile before stepping close to him, touching his chest. I didn’t hear what she was saying, but Nino’s expression remained stoic. He shook his head once, and she sighed.

She came toward me. I eyed her warily. Not only had she been a Vitiello, but she was now a Falcone. Neither were names that set me at ease.

“I’m sorry. He’s very protective,” she said with a small smile.

I gave Nino the once-over. “That’s obvious.”

His expression remained a cold mask. Remo would have given me his twisted smile or that scary signature look, and I had to admit I preferred it to Nino’s unreadable face, because I had no doubt that he was just as brutal and messed up as his brother but even harder to read.

Kiara extended her hand. “Call me Kiara.”

I hesitated then took it. “Serafina.”

Her eyes fell to my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not your apology to hand out,” I told her as I returned to the bed and sank down.

“I fear it’s the only one you’re going to get,” she said with a hint of disapproval. At least she seemed appalled by her crazy brother-in-law hurting me.

“I don’t want Remo’s apology. I want him lying at my feet in his own blood.”

I sent Nino a smile, gauging his reaction, but his expression didn’t change. He might as well have been carved from ice. If he couldn’t be taunted into carelessness, my chances of getting past him were nil. If I ever tried an escape attempt, I would have to make sure he wasn’t close by.

Kiara’s eyes widened a tad as she perched on the edge of my bed, smoothing out her dress. “I think you will have to join the end of the queue. The world is full of people who want the same.”

Oh, I liked her. Stifling a smile, I asked, “Are you one of them?”

She pursed her lips. “No, I’m not.”

“He’s the one hurting you then,” I said with a nod toward her emotionless husband, only now something dangerous flickered in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t indifferent to his wife.

Kiara glanced at Nino, and the smile tugging at her lips surprised me. “Nino would never hurt me. He is my husband.”

She sounded honest and more ... she sounded in love. I’d heard the rumors of what had happened to her and what the Falcones had done to her uncle. Maybe she was just grateful.

“Why are you here?” I asked eventually.

“I thought you’d like female company.”

“I’d like to return to my family, to my home. I’d like Remo to stop his twisted games. That’s what I’d like,” I whispered harshly, feeling bad for snapping at her but not being able to help myself.

She nodded. “I know.”

“I doubt you’ve come to offer your help. You are loyal to the Falcones.”

Again, her eyes moved to Nino. “I am. They are my family.”

I looked away, thinking of my own family, of Samuel, and my heart clenched tightly. She startled me when she leaned closer, and Nino, too, tensed and straightened. Despite my apparent apprehension, she brought her mouth close to my ear and whispered, “These men are cruel and brutal, but it’s not all there is to them. I think you can get under Remo’s skin. I wish it for both of you.” She pulled away and straightened. “I’ll see what I can do so you are allowed to spend your days outside of this room. We could sit in the garden. There’s no reason why your captivity should be more unpleasant than absolutely necessary.”

I stared at Kiara. She surprised me, but if she really thought anyone could get under Remo Falcone’s skin, then life in Vegas had twisted her brain.





CHAPTER 7





SERAFINA

There wasn’t a clock anywhere in the room, but it must have been early afternoon by now. Except for the cold pizza and the tap water, I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. Maybe this was another part of Remo’s game.

Glancing out of the window, I tried to find the end of the premises, but from my vantage point the gardens surrounding the Falcone mansion appeared endless.

What was Samuel doing now? I closed my eyes. He would blame himself for what happened. I knew him. He had always seen himself as my protector. I wished I could hear his voice, could tell him that it wasn’t his fault. And Mom and Dad ...

I hoped they had at least found a way to keep the truth from Sofia. She was too young, too innocent to be burdened with the cruelness of our world.

The sound of knocking followed by the lock being turned made me face the door. I winced at the dull pain in my forearm. A teenage boy in fight shorts and a T-shirt stepped into my room. He had slightly longer curly brown hair and was lean but muscled.

“Hey,” he said hesitantly, brown eyes kind. “Remo sent me to get you.”

I didn’t move from my spot at the window. “What are you, his servant?”

The boy smiled an unguarded, honest smile. A smile few could afford in our circles. “I’m his youngest brother, but that’s as good as the same in Remo’s eyes.”

His kindness confused me. It didn’t seem fake. My eyes flitted down to his forearm, free of the markings of the Camorra, the knife and the eye. “You haven’t been inducted yet.”

The smile dropped. “I will be in two days.”

“But you don’t want to,” I said curiously.

Caution replaced the open friendliness. “We shouldn’t keep Remo waiting.”

He opened the door wider and gestured for me to walk through. I wondered what he would do if I refused to follow him. He was taller than me and definitely stronger, but I got the impression he would have a hard time laying a hand on me. If he’d been my only opponent, I might have taken my chances, but Remo was downstairs.

Finally, I moved toward him and followed him through the long winding hallway.

“I’m Adamo, by the way,” he said.

I glanced up at him. “Serafina.”

“I know.”

“I suppose you Falcone brothers were all in on the kidnapping,” I muttered.

His brows drew together, but he remained silent. There was a hint of ... embarrassment and disapproval on his face.

After a few minutes, we arrived in the lower part of the mansion, in some sort of entertainment hub with a bar, sofas, TV, and a boxing ring. A punching bag lay amidst rubble, and Remo was glaring down at it as if it had personally insulted him. He, too, was in fight trunks and nothing else.

The memory of how he’d held me under the shower, of how I’d been pressed up to him completely naked resurfaced. I hadn’t registered much at the time, and even in the immediate aftermath, but now my gaze trailed over the display of hard muscles, the many scars that spoke of his violent past and present. Every inch of Remo screamed danger. His height, his muscles, his scars, but worse: his eyes.

They found me and as always it was a struggle to meet them. Around Remo you felt like the omega in a pack of wolves. Your eyes wanted to avoid his out of a deeply buried primal impulse because Remo was the alpha. There was no mistaking it.

Adamo left my side and went over to the sofa, where he plopped down and picked up a controller. A gun lay on the coffee table in front of him.

Remo stalked closer. “Adamo,” he clipped, indicating the gun. Damn it.

Adamo grasped it and shoved it under his leg.

“I wouldn’t even know how to use it,” I lied.

Remo smiled darkly. “You are a good liar.” His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat as if he hadn’t bothered showering after a workout.

“Why did you call me down? Do you have another torture session planned for me?”

Remo glanced down at my wound, his expression hardening—all sharp cheekbones and tight jaw. “There’s food in the kitchen for you and something to drink, unless you prefer hard liquor, then this is where you’ll get it.” He nodded toward the bar to my left where an array of bottles, most of them less than half full, awaited consumption. Scotch, bourbon, whiskey, gin ...

I definitely wouldn’t get intoxicated while I was being held captive by the Camorra. “I’m free to walk around the house?” I asked.

Remo smirked. “I don’t think we’ve reached that level of trust yet.”

“We won’t reach any level of trust, Remo.”

Steps echoed out in the hall behind me, and I turned halfway but not enough to lose sight of Remo. I preferred keeping him in my line of vision. As if he knew exactly what I was doing, one corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Savio walked in with that arrogant swagger. “Got someone to fix the punching bag.”

Remo tore his gaze from me. “And it took you four hours?”

“Took care of some other business while I was at it,” Savio said with a shrug.

Remo shook his head with obvious disapproval. “One day I’m going to seriously lose my shit on you.”