by Reilly, Cora
Kiara whimpered but otherwise didn’t make a sound when I worked the needle into her flesh. Her thigh muscles quaked under the needle, and I pressed my palm over them so the motion wouldn’t ruin my stitch work.
“Done,” I said eventually and straightened out before washing my hands. Then I took a new washcloth and wiped the excess blood off Kiara’s legs.
Kiara was still very quiet. I nudged her chin up so she had to meet my gaze. “What happened?”
Her eyes flitted away.
“You walked in on my brothers having sex.” Especially Remo. Kiara didn’t need to see him in action.
She exhaled.
“It brought back memories?”
“Yeah,” she murmured.
“I will have a talk with them to keep their activities to their parts of the house from now on,” I told her. Remo wouldn’t like that one fucking bit, nor would Savio, but Remo was the one I needed to convince.
“Where were you?” she asked in a soft voice.
I evaluated her expression, but her eyes were downcast and it was obvious she was trying to keep her face impassive. “We agreed that I seek pleasure elsewhere, Kiara. Or did you change your mind?” She didn’t appear like she’d be ready to submit to me in bed yet.
“No,” she said quietly, but I noticed the hesitation.
“But?”
“No but,” she said more firmly.
“Okay.” It was obvious something was still bothering her, but she wasn’t willing to share. I handed her two Tylenol, which she popped into her mouth. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”
I lifted her down from the counter and led her into the bedroom. She was still a bit unsteady on her legs. She climbed under the covers and lay down. “Won’t you join me?”
I paused. I’d intended to return to the whore I’d fucked before Savio had interrupted me, but something in Kiara’s eyes made me slip under the covers with her. The whore would eventually realize I wasn’t going to return. Maybe Savio or Remo had use for her. I couldn’t grasp Kiara’s reasons for wanting me to stay. She lay on her back but with her head tilted toward me. I shut off the lights.
“Can you tell me something about yourself I don’t know yet?” came her soft voice out of the dark.
“What do you know about me?”
There was silence for a moment. “I know your father was Capo before Remo took over. I know you and your brothers lived in England for a while but returned to the States to get your territory back after your father was killed by his Enforcer, Growl. I know you are a genius.”
Those were the basics. It was difficult to decide what kind of information to divulge at this point. “I speak five languages fluently. Russian, Italian, English, Spanish, and French.”
“Let me guess,” she said. “Russian and Spanish so you can better deal with the Bratva and the Cartel.”
“That’s true. It makes little sense to torture someone for information if you don’t understand what they’re saying. That negates the purpose.”
Kiara let out a small noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was a stifled laugh or a huff.
“Why French?”
“Because of the Corsican Union in Canada. They haven’t been involved in our business so far, but it’s good to be prepared. Their territory is close to Dante’s. He might seek their support.”
“Is there anything you do that doesn’t serve a purpose or is illogical? Something you do because you enjoy it?”
“There are plenty of things. Sex, for one.” I didn’t have to see Kiara to know she’d stiffened again. “Though one might argue it serves the purpose of relaxing me. Maybe hiking and climbing.”
“I’d like to go hiking one day,” she said.
“There are a few smaller canyons around Vegas that are good for hikes, and the Red Rock canyon offers a few trails that are more advanced. I could take you to one some time. Or you could go rock climbing with me.”
“I’m not very fit, so take it easy on me,” she said then yawned.
“Sleep now,” I told her.
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice already heavy with sleep. “And, Nino, thank you for everything so far.”
I frowned into the dark. I didn’t know what she had to thank me for.
The next morning Kiara was still in a deep sleep when I got up and headed down to the pool to swim my laps. Afterward, I went into our gaming room where I found Remo stretched out on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hand. He was on the phone, looking annoyed. Nobody had cleaned up the shards and blood yet, and if I didn’t do it, nobody would until the cleaning people arrived tomorrow.
“Don’t worry. That delivery will go through. We always keep our word. You just make sure you keep yours,” Remo muttered before hanging up.
“Famiglia?”
“Matteo fucking Vitiello. That motherfucker sets my nerves on edge.”
“Because you have a similar temperament,” I said.
Remo narrowed his eyes. “So, how’s your wife doing? Has she gotten over her shock of seeing how fucking is done right.”
“I had to stitch her up because she got cut by some glass. I think it would be wise to keep your sexual activities in your own wing. Now that Kiara lives under the same roof, the risk is too high that she walks in on you again.”
“This is my home. We don’t have any maids because we didn’t want to feel like we were being watched in our home, and now you want me to hide in my own wing when I want to fuck a whore?”
I sank down across from him. “Don’t turn this into a bigger deal than it is. You have more than enough places to go about your fucking, Remo. When Adamo was younger, we were more careful as well, and you could deal with it.”
“Your wife is a grown woman. Shouldn’t she be able to handle it?”
“You know why she doesn’t. She’s too scarred from her past, and even if she weren’t, I don’t want her to see you or Savio fucking around. She doesn’t need to see your dick.”
Remo chuckled. “She doesn’t see yours either. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you can fuck the messed-up past out of her.”
Remo was trying to piss me off, and despite my lack of emotions, I was growing tired of this discussion. “I never ask you for favors, Remo, but this I ask of you.”
Remo’s expression turned serious. “Why do you give a fuck about her?”
“As I told you before, she is now part of the family. Just like we protected Adamo and Savio, we should protect Kiara now. She is innocent and at our mercy, and we should treat her as she deserves, as my wife and as a Falcone.”
Remo shook his head and set down his coffee cup with an audible clang, spilling some of the liquid on the table. “Fuck. Did you come up with that speech just now? But if you ask me to do it, I will. Savio will be a pain in the ass because of it, I’m sure.”
The sound of movement made us both fall silent. I knew from the soft footfall that it could only be Kiara. Adamo trampled through the house to annoy us, and Savio’s steps were more confident. Her steps were slow and hesitant, as if she worried about what she would find in the living area this morning.
“The coast is clear,” Remo shouted. “No fucking about happening here ever again.”
I shot him a look, but he gave me a twisted smile.
Kiara emerged from the connecting corridor. Her eyes landed on the shards and her spilled blood on the ground. A pink color filled her cheeks. She glanced toward Remo then quickly to me. “Where do you have a mop so I can clean this up?”
I got up. “Let me do it.” I moved into the small cleaning closet that none of my brothers had ever set foot in. They didn’t mind if the house was dirty until the cleaning personnel showed up again, but I preferred things neat and clean. Living under the same roof with those pigs, it was a losing battle to keep everything clean.
Kiara followed close behind. “I should do it. After all, I caused the mess.”
“Following that logic, Remo and Savio should clean up,” I said.
“T
hat’s not going to happen,” Remo shouted.
“Is he angry?” Kiara asked quietly.
“Remo is always angry. You have to be more specific than that.”
“Because I disturbed him and his ... woman.”
“You didn’t disturb him. Trust me. Remo is used to a lot of shit. You freaking out on him won’t stop him from fucking a whore.”
Kiara tensed. “Do you call all women whores?”
“No, but that’s what they were. They work in the Sugar Trap for us.”
Her nose wrinkled. “So you always use whores?”
“No. But if things are busy, it’s the easiest way to get sex. Finding a regular woman requires we go out and charm them. That’s considerably more work.”
Kiara sighed. “You and your brothers are messed up.”
Remo got up from the sofa. “Is there any food in the fridge? I’m starving.”
“I bought eggs and bacon yesterday.” I took the mop, a dustpan, and a small broom out of the closet as Remo disappeared from view. Kiara took the broom and dustpan from me and walked somewhat stiffly back to the remains of the broken glass on the floor. I filled a bucket with water before I followed her.
“How’s your wound?” I asked.
“It stings, but your stitches seemed to hold,” she said, her expression softening. “You’re really good at playing doctor.”
“I have years of practice stitching up my brothers and myself, though Remo has provided me the most practice.”
“You all have a lot of scars,” she said, her eyes tracing my upper body. I had trouble reading her expression. She didn’t seem unsettled by my half-dressed state.
“Everyone has scars. Some are skin deep, others reach beyond that.”
“Soul deep,” she whispered.
“Are you referring to yourself?”
She watched me mop up the blood and brushed the shards into the dustpan then smiled strangely up at me. “I don’t think my scars will ever fade.”
“They don’t need to fade.” I grabbed her hand and touched it to the scar above my bellybutton. Her fingertips fluttered over my skin, her eyes wide with shock. “A knife went in there. Dirty blade. The wound wouldn’t heal for a long time. For a moment, I was sure it wouldn’t heal at all. How does it feel?”
She frowned. “The skin is a bit harder, but your tattoos cover up everything.”
“The skin is harder there because of the thick scar tissue. It’s less sensitive to pain and cold and heat. It’s stronger.”
Her brown eyes held my gaze. “I don’t understand.”
I moved my face closer. “The scars he left, your body can heal them if you let it, and the result will be stronger than what was there before.”
CHAPTER 13
KIARA
I got up when Nino disappeared in the bathroom to change into his swim trunks. Every morning since I’d moved in three weeks ago, he followed the same ritual. I had occasionally watched him from the window in the beginning until I’d found the courage to follow him outside one day a week ago. Now he always waited for me.
He raised his eyebrows when he saw me putting on my bathrobe and grabbing a book. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
I followed him downstairs, my eyes darting to his body. He looked good in his swim trunks. In the last few days, I’d often caught myself staring at him. His body fascinated me, I could admit that, and touching his scar hadn’t summoned past demons as I’d feared. His scars and tattoos made me want to find out the story behind each of them. Nino’s story.
Stretching out on one of the sun chairs, I watched as Nino made his way toward the edge of the pool and jumped in elegantly. He always followed the same routine. Two rounds of the butterfly stroke, two rounds of the backstroke, and two rounds of the crawl. Then he repeated everything from the start. He never faltered in his movements throughout the thirty minutes that he swam, and I didn’t read a single word. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, off the muscles in his arms and back as they flexed. It was mesmerizing and beautiful, graceful.
May mornings in Las Vegas were surprisingly warm, and I relished the feel of the sun on my skin as my eyes rested on my husband.
My husband. It didn’t feel real yet. He had kept his word, had never made a move to touch me, and sometimes I caught myself wondering how it would be if he did touch me ... if were closer. I knew it wasn’t a possibility I should bother entertaining.
When he swam toward the ladder, I quickly lifted my book and returned my gaze to the page, but above the edge of the book, I watched Nino getting out and a small shiver trailed up my spine.
After a moment of Nino soaking in the sun—a sight that always halted my breath in my throat and sent spears of heat through my body—he headed my way, dripping water. I handed him the towel he’d put down on the sun chair beside mine and tried not to act like I had been secretly watching him the entire time.
“Thanks,” he said and began drying himself. “You can use the pool as well, you know.”
“I haven’t swam in many years, and I was never very good,” I admitted, having a hard time focusing on his face. For some reason, Nino’s presence was even more overwhelming when he stood right in front of me, soaking wet.
“I can teach you if you want,” Nino drawled.
“Maybe in a few weeks or so,” I said quickly because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be in only swimwear around Nino, even if he had already seen me naked on our wedding night. That day seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I have to take out your stitches today. If I hadn’t been busy these last few days gathering information on Outfit buildings, I would have done it before. Why don’t we do it right away and have breakfast afterward?”
I smiled. “That sounds good.” Then added quickly, “Not the part about the stitches but the breakfast part.”
He held out his hand. My stomach flopped strangely when his warm fingers closed over my skin and he tugged me to my feet. His brows pulled together when his finger brushed my wrist, but then he released me.
“What kind of information did you gather?” I asked as we walked back to the house.
“Remo is planning an attack on Chicago. We assume Fabiano’s father was the driving force behind the attack on our territory. He has powerful supporters in the Outfit, one of them is Fiore Cavallaro, and as long as the old man lives, Dante probably won’t get rid of Scuderi.”
“But Scuderi is Fabiano’s father. Why would he try to kill his own son?”
“He tried to kill him before when Fabiano was a kid. Remo found him shortly after, and Fabiano’s been part of our family ever since. Scuderi holds a grudge against his children. I’m sure you know the story of why war broke out between the Outfit and the Famiglia.”
“Of course. Fabiano’s sister Liliana killed her husband with the help of a Famiglia soldier and ran off.”
“Scuderi wants to salvage his honor, if Fabiano is to be believed.”
I frowned. “But what does that have to do with you gathering information?”
“As I said, we intend to run an attack in summer. It’s our goal to extract Scuderi so Fabiano can kill him and we can send his remains back to Cavallaro as a present.”
That sounded like an insane plan. Kidnapping the Outfit’s Consigliere was an impossible task. Men like that were always surrounded by soldiers and guards. We arrived in our bathroom, and I stood awkwardly beside the sink as Nino took out the instruments he needed to pull out my stitches. “Where do I sit?”
“I’ll lift you onto the counter. That way I don’t have to bend too low.”
Nino stepped up close and his clean, manly scent flooded my nose. My cheeks heated, and I jumped when his strong hands touched my waist as he lifted me up onto the wash table as if I weighed nothing. I opened my bathrobe and waited nervously.
Nino touched my knees, and I became very still. His touch was light, purposeful—not at all sexual but a mix of fear and excitement shot through me anyway. The latter caught me by sur
prise, but Nino didn’t give me much time to consider this because he nudged my legs apart. My body’s natural reaction to clamp shut lasted only a moment. Then I allowed him to part my thighs so he could take a look at my wound.
My cheeks turned hot when he crouched before me and pushed my nightgown up, giving him a clear view of my panties. It was a vulnerable position, but despite the nerves coursing through me, my fear was only a distant voice in the back of my mind, where I’d buried my most hurtful memories.
Nino’s fingers were gentle and clinical as he felt my wound. “Does it still hurt?”
I shook my head, startled by the light tingling his touch caused. I hoped Nino didn’t realize how my body reacted to him.
He was very careful when he pulled out the stitches, so it only stung the slightest bit. When Nino had pulled the last stitch, his eyes took in the small scar, and he brushed his thumb over it. My breath got stuck in my throat from the sensation that traveled all the way to my center. I’d never experienced anything like it.
Nino straightened. “All done. The small scar will fade.”
“It’s not like anyone but you will ever see it,” I said, and his expression became strangely intent.
“That’s true.”
He gripped my waist again and set me down. This time his hands lingered on my waist a moment longer, and I swallowed, my stomach fluttering again. But Nino dropped his hands. He motioned toward the shower. “I’m going to shower now. After that, we can make breakfast.”
I left but listened to the sound of the running water, confused by my reaction to Nino’s body and his close proximity to me. He was still intimidating because of his strength, coldness, and reputation, but part of me had come to trust him a little. Nino had never done anything that had unsettled me.
When he emerged with only a towel wrapped around his waist, the overwhelming feeling of his mere presence resurfaced. “While you take a shower, I’ll head into the kitchen and see what I can do.”
