CHAPTER 6
REMO
Nino’s expression was strained, but he wasn’t about to lose his shit again. He was staring into my eyes, no longer at Serafina. He swallowed then the cold mask took hold of his face and he straightened. My eyes fell to the scars on his wrist covered by our tattoo, then to similar scars on my skin, not as straight, not as focused. I almost touched the fucking scar over my eyebrow like I’d done in the weeks after...
“You will have to stitch her up yourself. You played this game and lost. You underestimated your opponent,” he drawled then left, leaving me standing there, fucking furious and fucking ecstatic.
I turned around slowly. Serafina was swaying but trying to stand tall. Her chin was covered in blood from the wound in her lip, from biting down on it to stop a scream. She didn’t give me a single one. My gaze dipped lower. Her nightgown was stained with the blood still trickling from the cut in her arm, which she cradled against her chest.
She was supposed to choose differently like all the other women always did. Instead, she’d caught me off guard, had taken the painful road, had forced my fucking hand. She hadn’t given me the triumph of offering her body to me on a silver platter in front of Dante fucking Cavallaro and her fiancé. Nino was right. I’d underestimated my opponent because I compared her to the women I’d dealt with so far, but Serafina was nothing like them. Proud and noble. I wouldn’t underestimate her again.
And I would get that fucking scream. I would get more than that.
My eyes were drawn to her arm. Why had she chosen that spot? When I looked back up, Serafina met my gaze with one of triumph. She knew she had won.
I stalked toward her, anger simmering under my skin. She tensed, swayed again but didn’t fall. I took her arm and inspected the wound. It wasn’t deep. I hadn’t put enough pressure behind the blade to cut deep. I hadn’t wanted to cut her at all, which was a new experience. Seeing the blood on her perfect skin didn’t give me the deep satisfaction it usually did.
“How did it feel to hurt me? Does it excite you?” she asked fiercely.
I leaned close, cupping her chin. She held her breath as I trailed my tongue over her lower lip, tasting her blood. I smiled darkly. “Not nearly as much as this.”
She jerked back and stumbled, but I caught her, because this wasn’t the fall she would take.
“We need to treat your wound.”
She didn’t protest and followed me silently back upstairs to the first floor, and my grip on her arm held her steady. I led her into my bedroom then my bathroom, where I kept the only medical kit in my wing. Nino was the one who usually handled this kind of shit. She leaned against the sink. “You should sit down,” I told her.
“I prefer to stand.”
I let go of her and she clutched the edge of the sink to steady herself. I bent down to retrieve the medical kit, but my eyes were drawn to the high slit in her nightgown revealing a long, slender leg. She shifted so her front faced me. I smirked up at her, but her skin was pale and a fine sheen covered her face. I grabbed the medical kit and straightened, regarding her more closely to judge whether she was going to pass out or not. She narrowed her eyes at me and straightened her shoulders with obvious effort.
The corner of my mouth twitched. I took out tissue adhesive. The wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. I couldn’t remember the last time a cut from me didn’t lead to stitches—or a funeral.
I took out disinfectant spray, and she stiffened but didn’t make a sound when the stinging spray hit her wound, but she did bite down on her lower lip again.
“If you keep doing that, the result will be twice as painful.”
She sent me a scathing look but released her bottom lip.
I began to put the adhesive on her wound, feeling a strange aversion to seeing the cut I had inflicted. I couldn’t quite define the feeling; it was foreign to me.
“So is this how it’s going to be? You cutting me open and stitching me back together?” she seethed.
“I’m not stitching you up. I’m gluing you together.”
She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her eyes on me. She tapped my forearm with my Camorra tattoo, brushing the crisscrossing scars there. “I wonder who inflicted those cuts,” she mused.
I froze and my head shot up. She held my gaze with the same look of triumph I had seen in the basement.
“I wonder who stitched you up afterward? Did you and Nino cut each other in some twisted brotherly ceremony and stitch each other up when you were done? You have the same cuts. Maybe I should ask him.”
I pushed her against the sink with my body, my hands clamping down on the marble counter as I shook with rage ... and other emotions I would never allow.
Serafina looked at me, despite the fear taking over her perfect features.
“Never mention those scars again. And you won’t talk to Nino about this, not a single word, understood?” I growled.
She pressed her lips together, not saying a word. A droplet of blood squeezed past her lips and trickled down on her chin.
Exhaling, I stepped back, grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. I grabbed her chin but she reached for my wrist.
“Hold still,” I ordered, and she dropped her hand and let me clean her chin. Then I took a closer look at her lip. Her teeth had only nicked the upper layer of skin. “You are lucky. This will heal on its own.” I was so close to her, her scent hit me again.
Her voice snapped me out of it. “How long will you keep me here?”
“Who says I’m ever letting you go?” I asked in a low voice before I drew back and led her out of my room.
After returning Serafina to the guest room, which I locked this time, I was about to start doing my daily training, kicking the punching bag, when Kiara stormed into the game room. Nino was close behind her and tried stopping her, but she tore away from his grip and stalked toward me, looking furious.
I turned to her, raising my eyebrows. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of me and shoved me hard, her eyes brimming with tears. I caught her wrists because she looked like she would slap me next, and that was something we both didn’t want to happen.
A second later, a steely grip closed around my forearm. “Release her now,” Nino ordered.
I met his gaze, not liking his tone one bit. His grip tightened further. A warning. A threat. We had never really fought against each other, for good reason, and I would lay my fucking life down before I would allow it to happen. But Kiara could be the reason why Nino might risk it.
Savio rose slowly and even Adamo put down his controller.
I let go of her wrists, and Nino unfastened his hold on my arm. He tilted his head in acknowledgment, a silent thank-you.
“What are you doing to that girl?” Kiara asked forcefully.
I narrowed my eyes. “I can’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“It is my business if you are forcing yourself on a woman,” she hissed, but her voice shook.
“I’m Capo. I rule over this city. I decide what happens to the people in my territory.”
I turned to face the punching bag, but Kiara squeezed in front of it. Fury burned through me, but I shoved it down my throat despite the fucking bitter taste. She was Nino’s. She was a fucking Falcone. I grabbed her by the waist and set her to the side like a fucking doll before I faced the punching bag once more. She had frozen under my touch as usual. Unfortunately, that lasted only one fucking second.
She stepped in front of me again.
“Kiara,” Nino said in warning, but she glared at him.
“No! Nobody protected me. I won’t stand by when the same happens to someone else.”
“Get out of my way,” I said in a low voice, feeling my own anger rising.
“Or what?” she whispered harshly.
“I said get out of my way, Kiara.”
She took a step toward me, bringing us almost chest to chest. “And I said no. It’s a mountain I’m willing to die on. I don’t care about your vendetta with the Outfit or what happened in your past. An innocent woman won’t suffer for it.”
I couldn’t believe she mentioned our fucking past. Nino should have never told her about it!
Nino moved closer, watching me, not Kiara. Fucking dread flickered in his eyes—something I still had to get used to because my brother had always been emotionless until he met Kiara.
I tried stepping past his wife, but she grabbed my wrist. My gaze darted to her thin fingers then back up to her face. Nino shifted slightly, muscles tensing. I gave him a wry smile. Was he thinking about attacking me? His expression stayed cautious. I met his gaze and twisted my free hand so he saw my tattoo and the crisscrossing scars beneath it. He should know that no matter how infuriating his wife was, I’d never hurt her. His brows drew together, and he relaxed with a small nod.
Kiara tightened her hold. “You protected me from my uncle when he wanted to humiliate me by dancing with me on my wedding. You helped Nino kill him—”
I interrupted her, growing tired of her emotionality. “You can calm down. I want Serafina to come to my bed willingly and not by force. So you can fucking release me now.”
She regarded me closely. “She won’t. Why should she? You kidnapped her.”
“And you were forced into an unwanted marriage to my brother. What’s the difference?”