Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles Book 1)

by Cora Reilly

  Leona came back out of the changing room, dressed in her new dress and shoes, looking fucking amazing. I let my eyes wander over her slender shoulders, her narrow waist and lean legs. The dress ended a couple of inches above her knees and dipped low on her back, revealing inch over inch of immaculate skin.

  She carried her old clothes. I wanted to tell her to throw them away but I had a feeling she didn’t have any clothes to spare. Instead I went over to the cashier and paid for the dress and shoes.

  Leona’s eyes grew wide when she saw the sum.

  “I can’t believe how much you paid! I could have bought ten dresses at Walmart for that much money,” she whispered as I led her out of the shop.

  I pressed my palm against the naked skin between her shoulder blades, relishing in her small shiver and the way goose bumps rose on her skin. The familiar blush spread on her cheeks. Before I opened the door, I leaned down to her, my lips brushing her ear. “It’s worth every penny, trust me.”

  She released a small shaky breath and quickly got into my Mercedes as if she needed to bring some space between us. But there was no way I’d let her get away from me.

  Chapter Eight

  I smoothed my fingers down the soft material of the dress. It was made from silk and cotton, something I’d never worn before. It felt almost too good for me. I could have never afforded that kind of dress, nor would I have ever given that much money for a piece of clothing. And the shoes. I hadn’t known leather so soft existed. For Fabiano it was nothing.

  “Thank you,” I said eventually when we’d been driving in silence for a while. Our surroundings were becoming shabbier. It wasn’t long before we’d be at Roger’s Arena.

  Fabiano gave a nod. I wished I knew what was going on in his head. Wished I knew why he was really doing this.

  My eyes lingered on his strong jaw, the dark blond stubble, the way his mouth was set in a determined line. He seemed always in control. Was there a time when he ever lost it? Even during his fight, he’d never given up control. He had dominated his opponent with little effort.

  As I watched him drive, I got my first good look at the tattoo on the inside of his right forearm. It was a long knife with an eye on the top of the blade, near the hilt. Words were written in intricate letters on the hilt. They were Italian and too small for me to read.

  Fabiano pulled into the parking lot of Roger’s Arena and turned off the engine. He held out his forearm to me so I could take a closer look. Had I been staring that openly?

  “What does it say?” I touched my fingertip to his skin, tracing every single letter and marveling at how soft his skin felt. He was all hard lines and muscle, power and danger, but his skin betrayed that once all those layers were shed, he was only human.

  “Temere me, perché sono l’occhio e la spada,” Fabiano said in flawless Italian from what I could tell. He caressed the words with his tongue, almost as if he was their lover. A shiver raced down my back. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if he whispered words of passion into my ear in that same voice. “What…” I cleared my throat, hoping he couldn’t tell how his closeness and voice were affecting me. “What does it mean?”

  “Fear me cause I’m the eye and the blade.”

  A lover’s voice delivering such harsh words. “Do all mobsters have this tattoo?” I asked.

  He smirked. “We like to call us Made Men or Camorrista, but yes, members of the Camorra all have the same tattoo as a way to recognize each other.”

  “The eye and the blade,” I repeated. “What does it mean? What do you have to do to carry that tattoo?”

  He leaned over and for a moment I was sure he would kiss me, and worse, I realized I would have let him. Instead he ran a finger down the length of my arm, a dark look in his eyes. “That’s something you don’t want to know,” he murmured.

  I nodded. With him being so close, it was hard to concentrate. I needed to get out of this car.

  “Go out with me.”

  “I have to work,” came my dumb reply.

  He smiled a knowing smile. “Not every day. When’s your next day off?”

  I didn’t know. I hadn’t talked to Roger about that, and with the way my financial situation was progressing I could probably never take a day off.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s say Wednesday.”

  That was only two days away. I hadn’t come to Vegas to go on a date. I’d sworn to myself to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. How was going on a date with a member of the mob doing that?

  “I can’t. I…” I trailed off. I couldn’t come up with a useful excuse and Fabiano’s eyes spoke a clear language. No, was unacceptable.

  “I don’t know if I can get that day off.”

  “You will.”

  Did the bar belong to the Camorra? Or was Roger just too intimidated to refuse Fabiano a request like that?

  All my life people had trampled upon me. Nothing had ever come easy for me. I’d had to fight for everything, and suddenly there was Fabiano who got what he wanted, who could handle things for me with a few simple words. It shouldn’t have felt good, but I’d always been on my own. My mother hadn’t been in any state to take care of me, and my father had been hundreds of miles away, and just as incapable, and now there was someone taking care of me. I liked it, liked handing over some of the pressure of always having to fend for myself, of having to make every decision. I liked it too much.

  I needed to be careful. Men like Fabiano were used to controlling others. If I let him, he’d take total control of my life, of me: body and soul.

  I tore my gaze away from his face. The air was too stuffy. A trickle of sweat trailed down my back. I got out of the car, glad for more space between me and Fabiano.

  He followed me of course, prowled after me.

  “Are you coming in for a drink?” I asked him, torn between wanting him to and wanting him to leave.

  “Not today, but I’ll have a quick talk to Roger about Wednesday.”

  His hand touched my back, as he led me inside. The feel of his palm on my skin was way more distracting than it should have been.

  The moment we entered the bar, Cheryl’s angry eyes zoomed in on me, then on Fabiano, before she whirled around and headed through the door behind the bar. Most of the tables were still empty. The first fight hadn’t begun yet but a look at the watch revealed that I was almost one hour late. Guilt overcame me. I hated disappointing people who relied on me. Roger was certainly furious.

  His reddened face as he stalked into the bar confirmed my worry. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me standing beside Fabiano.

  Fabiona stroked my skin lightly with his thumb. I had to resist leaning into his touch. Instead I gave him a quick smile, then rushed off toward the bar. Roger didn’t spare me a glance but I could tell that he was seething. He walked toward Fabiano and listened to him. Eventually he nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  Cheryl slid up to my side. “New dress?” She asked suggestively.

  I flushed, though I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I removed a few of the empty bottles lined up next to the sink and stashed them in the crates below the bar.

  “Chick, I know you’re new here. But don’t think he’s buying you stuff because he feels sorry for you. That man isn’t capable of feeling sorry.”

  Annoyance flooded me. She pretended like she knew all about him. How could she say that he had no feelings? Only because he didn’t show them, didn’t mean he didn’t have them. “Cheryl, I know what I’m doing. There’s nothing to worry about, trust me.”

  She pointed at my bruised wrist. “That’s only the beginning.”

  “He didn’t do that,” I said at once but I could tell that she didn’t believe me. I went over to a table with men trying to catch our attention. The conversation with Cheryl was leading nowhere.

  Fabiano came over to me. The men at the table fell silent as he stopped beside me. He touched my naked back again and I saw the look he gave the other men. W
as he being possessive? He leaned down. “Wednesday, I’ll pick you up at six in your street.” He straightened and stalked off, leaving me with the imprint of his touch on my back.

  “So, two Lager and three Pale Ales?” I repeated their order.

  They nodded but didn’t say anymore.

  When I returned home that night, the apartment was dark and quiet. The door to Dad’s bedroom was ajar. He wasn’t there. I really hoped he wasn’t gone gambling again.

  I slipped out of the dress and carefully laid it out over one of the moving boxes. Tomorrow I’d wash it so I could wear it again for my date with Fabiano on Wednesday. My stomach tightened with nerves and excitement. When I lay down and closed my eyes, I could feel his hand on my back again, could smell his musky scent. My hand found its way between my legs as I remembered the way he’d looked half naked, the lithe way he’d moved during his fight, the strength he oozed so easily. I’d never felt so drawn to someone before. I moved my fingers quicker, imagining it was Fabiano.

  Afterwards, I felt even more nervous about our date. I’d never had trouble refusing guys. They had never been even remotely interesting enough for me to risk my reputation. But with Fabiano, I knew it would be more difficult.

  Remo was lounging on the sofa, watching the latest race on his enormous TV. The races were getting more and more popular by the day. If we could operate the races in all of the States and Canada, we’d be swimming in money. But with the Outfit and the Famiglia in the US and the fucking Corsican Union in Canada in our way, that wasn’t going to happen soon. Not to mention the Bratva and the Cartel. Everyone wanted to have a fat piece of the cake.

  “What is going on between you and that new girl at Roger’s?” Remo asked, sending my body into danger mode.

  My face remained blank. I took a sip from my drink, then leaned back again.

  Remo seemed focused on the race, but that could as easily have been a way to make me lower my guards.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I told him off-handedly.

  His eyes met mine. “You are buying her things and you are taking her out. That’s nothing?”

  I let out a dark laugh. “Are you spying on me, Remo? Since when do you care about the girls I’m fucking?”

  “I don’t. She seems a strange target. Not your usual style. And I don’t need to spy on you. You know how it is.”

  Oh, I knew. People were always eager to talk shit about me behind my back, hoping they could rat me out to Remo and earn a reward. They didn’t know shit about him if they thought he was impressed by them acting like a stinking rat. Remo would remember their names but definitely not in a way they’d appreciate. “She’s a welcome distraction. The other girls, they are all the same. They’re starting to bore me.”

  They laughed because they had to. They smiled their fake smiles. They regarded me like an opportunity. And I had never cared. They were good for fucking and sucking.

  “The thrill of the chase,” Remo mused.

  I smirked. “Perhaps. Let me have some fun. It won’t interfere with my duties.”

  Remo nodded, but there was an intent look in his eyes I didn’t like. “Have fun.” He returned his attention to the bar. “She might be more skilled than she looks. Her mother is a cheap street hooker in Austin.”

  What the fuck? I tensed. Her mother was a whore? Was he fucking shitting me? And that Remo had done a background check on Leona unsettled me even more. If something caught his attention that was never a good thing. I shrugged, though I had a feeling Remo had picked up on my shock. He was too damn attentive. That was why he was Capo.

  “I don’t give a fuck who her mother is.”

  Remo’s eyes bored a hole into my fucking skull.

  I stood from the sofa. “I’m going to work out for a while.” Remo didn’t stop the unnerving staring.

  I needed to blow off some steam before I went to get Leona. I was on edge. I’d have to spend the next hour kicking the hell out of a boxing sack if I wanted to keep my cool with her.

  Dad had avoided me since the incident. I’d heard him return home early in the morning, bumping against walls and smashing his door shut in a drunken stupor, and he was still hidden away in his room when I left for work. But on Wednesday I had my day off, and avoiding me was something he couldn’t do. When he stepped out of his bedroom and shuffled into the kitchen, dressed in only washed out grey boxers and a yellowish wifebeater, he froze in the doorway when he spotted me. He’d obviously expected me to be at work.

  “Did they fire you?” he asked uncertainly. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt that I saw on his face. The bruises on my wrist were gone already and so was probably the money Dad had taken from me.

  I shook my head as I sipped my coffee. I had hardly eaten anything so far, even though the fridge was for once stashed with food after I’d gone shopping in the morning. “No, it’s my day off.”

  “On a day of a big fight?” he asked. “One of the Falcone brothers is in the cage tonight.”

  Surprise filled me. “I can’t work all the time.”

  Dad sat down across from me. Dark circles spread under his eyes, and he looked like he could use a long shower.

  I waited for him to ask me for money. I knew he was thinking about it. He stared down at his hands, then sighed. “I never wanted this kind of life for you. When you were born I thought everything would change. I thought I could give you a good life.”

  I believed him. “I know,” I said simply. I knew Mom and Dad both had wanted to be good parents. For a while they had tried.

  “Are you home tonight?” he asked. “You could watch the cage fight with me. They are showing it on the big screen in a bar around the corner.”

  I wasn’t really in the mood to watch another cage fight but I was touched that he wanted to spend time with me, even if part of me couldn’t help but be wary. And I hated it, hated that I’d learned to be cautious when my parents showed interest in me.

  “I’m already going out,” I said carefully.

  “You do?” Curiosity flashed in his eyes.

  I nodded and stood quickly. I put my cup in the sink, deciding to clean it later when Dad wasn’t breathing down my neck. “I should probably start to get ready.” It was still two hours until Fabiano would pick me up but I wanted to avoid a confrontation with my father.

  It would rattle me even more. And I was already on edge because of my date with Fabiano. It seemed less and less like a good idea, but I couldn’t back out now. Perhaps he’d lose interest after tonight. It wasn’t like I had anything remotely interesting to say, and I definitely wasn’t going to talk about my mother. If he knew about her, he’d look at me in a different way. It was always the same.

  I dressed in the dark green dress again. I shouldn’t have let Fabiano buy me things. All my life I’d had to work hard for what I wanted. Having for once something gifted to me like that, it had felt amazing. Now I couldn’t help but think of Fabiano’s intentions. Nothing in life was for free. That was a lesson I’d learned early.

  I checked my reflection in the mirror. It was finally possible to get a good look after I’d cleaned the thing and the rest of the apartment yesterday. I’d never been into heavy make-up and even for the date, I decided to keep it to a minimum. I didn’t want to appear as if I’d made a huge effort. I put on some foundation and a hint of blush, then brushed my eyelashes with mascara. I reached for my only lipstick, a berry tone that complimented my hair color and complexion perfectly. I paused with it almost touching my lips. What if Fabiano would try to kiss me tonight? Wasn’t lipstick going to be in the way?

  I flushed. There would be no kissing. I had no intention of kissing anyone at the moment, least of all Fabiano. But a treacherous part of my body tingled with excitement at the idea. Sighing, I lowered the lipstick.

  When six rolled around I was near trembling from nerves. Dad had luckily left the apartment ten minutes ago, so I didn’t have to worry about a confrontation between Fabiano and him.

  The sound of a c
ar pulling up made me risk a peek out of the window. Fabiano was already getting out, and a lump formed at the sight of him. He looked marvelous, not like someone who would date white trash like me. I didn’t kid myself into thinking I was anything else. A dress and nice shoes wouldn’t change that.

  I grabbed my backpack and quickly left the apartment. I didn’t want him to catch a glimpse inside and see how little we had. I closed the door. Fabiano was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, intense blue eyes scanning my body.

  I descended the stairs slowly, my hand on the rail like an anchor. He was dressed in a white button down shirt that hugged his muscular form. His sleeves were rolled up again, revealing his strong tanned forearms and the tattoo of the Camorra. He’d left the upper two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned showing the hint of his perfect chest. Somehow knowing what was beneath his shirt, how he looked with only his fighting gear, made this even harder. When I reached the second to last step and was on eyelevel with him, a shiver passed through my body. He looked like he wanted to devour me. I thought of something sophisticated to say, anything that could stop him from giving me that hungry look.

  “Hi,” was all I got out, and even that one word sounded hushed.

  His mouth twitched and he slid his hand behind my back, his palm finding the same spot of naked skin where it had rested the last time. My body came alive with a tingling but I didn’t let it show. I needed to stay in control of this evening, and most of all: myself.

  He led me toward his car and then we were off.

  It was hard not to fidget as we drove in silence. He looked perfectly at ease as usual, long fingers curled loosely around the wheel. His hand was a darker shade of blond than usual – still wet from a shower? Don’t go there, Leona.

  My nerves grew as the city lights thinned out and we left them behind completely eventually. “Where are we going?”