Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles Book 5)

by Cora Reilly

  After a while, I quieted down and just lay on my side, staring blankly at my wall. I didn’t even feel like crying anymore. Hollowness crowded my chest. A knock sounded, but I didn’t react. The door creaked and steps rang out before my bed dipped.

  “Don’t cry,” Diego said quietly. It was funny how difficult it was for him to see tears on my face when he did so many horrible things in the name of the Camorra.

  “I’m not. Not anymore.” I rolled around to face him.

  He watched me for a long time. His lower lip was already swelling, but he’d gotten rid of the blood and changed into a clean T-shirt. That he wasn’t angry at me for punching him showed that he did, indeed, feel guilty. “Mick’s all right. He’s decent, and I’ll make sure he treats you right, trust me. With him I can really keep you safe. If you’d been given to some Captain or an Underboss in another city, you would have been at his mercy. I couldn’t allow that. With Mick, you’ll never have to fear violence. You don’t have to be scared.”

  “I’m not. I know Mick. He’s nice.” Mick wouldn’t hurt me, I was sure of that, even if I didn’t know him that well, but given how tight Diego, Savio and Mick were, my brother probably knew every one of his dirty deeds.

  Diego looked at me with pity in his eyes. I hated that look because it made me feel so stupid and naïve. Of course, that’s exactly what I was, thinking I could change Savio Falcone’s ways. Even if he married one day, it would probably be the daughter of some Underboss. “Savio’s a player, Gemma. He had the chance to ask for your hand. Dad would have given you to him. Every family would have given their daughter to him.”

  I nodded. I’d known this for a long time. I’d chosen to ignore facts and stay in my bubble. I only had myself to blame. It was always easier to blame others, though. “But he didn’t ask. I thought…” I couldn’t say what I thought. That there was something between Savio and me, a connection. “I thought he liked me. I thought I caught him looking at me.”

  “He likes you all right,” Diego muttered. Again, I caught the undercurrent of anger in his voice when he talked about Savio. “And, of course, he checked you out. Every guy does.” Diego’s mouth pulled into a grimace as if me looking halfway decent was his worst nightmare come true.

  I flushed. “I don’t want to marry Mick, or anyone else…”

  Diego got up and threw up his hands. “You can’t have Savio, Gemma. Get it out of your head. Why buy a cow if you can have milk for free? That’s his credo, and the world is full of cows willing to throw their milk for free at Savio.”

  I wanted Savio to have my milk, but not on his terms, not for free. Of course, that meant he’d never get my milk. Diego sighed. “Forget him. The sooner you get to terms with marrying Mick, the easier it’ll be.”

  The problem was my heart belonged to Savio and even just trying to look at Mick like he could be something for me felt like I was cheating on my heart—and somehow Savio. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to marry someone you don’t want.”

  “You really think I’m going to marry for love, Gemma? Grow up. I’ll marry whoever Dad suggests, whoever helps our family improve in rank.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “I’m being realistic. Dreaming about Prince Charming is for little girls, and you aren’t a little girl anymore. Not to mention that Savio is definitely no Prince Charming. He’s the Big Bad Wolf who wants to eat you.” He snapped his mouth shut and actually flushed. It took me a moment to realize why and then I felt my own cheeks heat.

  Diego spared us both the embarrassment and stalked out of the room with a look as if he was going to be sick at any moment.

  Less than ten minutes later, another knock sounded.

  “Go away. I get it, I’m stupid!” I really couldn’t bear another talk with Diego.

  The door opened and Mom peeked inside. Her brows crinkled and worry filled her face when she scanned my eyes. “Oh, Gemma. It’s not as bad as it seems.” She came over to me and stroked my head. “Is Michelangelo really that bad of a choice?”

  “Apart from his name, you mean?” I said with a small smile, not wanting to worry Mom. She’d been feeling faint a lot since she was pregnant.

  She smiled. “I’m sure his parents had a good reason for giving him this name.”

  I gave her a doubtful look. Any child given the name Michelangelo had huge shoes to fill and could only fail to do so, especially given that Mick wasn’t the firstborn and wouldn’t become Captain.

  “I know you probably don’t feel like it, but Mick and his father are coming over for dinner to celebrate the union.”

  “Oh, no, Mom. He’ll know I’ve cried and he’ll feel horrible knowing it’s because of him. I don’t want to make Mick feel bad. It’s not his fault.” Well, technically, it was. He must have asked for my hand, but I couldn’t really blame him for having the guts to ask for my hand. It was nice knowing he liked me enough to consider marriage.

  “You’re too kind-hearted, sweetheart. But we can do something about your eyes. We still have two hours. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll look for a nice dress that you can wear?”

  I nodded, not even in the mood to argue about Mom choosing my clothes. She’d opt for a modest dress, which was the message I wanted to send Mick anyway.

  Two hours later, I was dressed in my knee-long, high-collared dark blue dress but other than in church, I wore my hair down because that way, it covered the red blotches still marring my throat from crying.

  When the bell rang, nerves tightened my stomach. I’d known Mick even longer than Savio, but meeting someone after you found out he was going to be your husband was something else.

  Dad and Diego went to get the door while Mom, Nonna, and I waited in our small dining room. Nonna touched my cheek, her crow’s feet deepening as she gave me a wistful smile. “I still remember when I met your grandpa for the first time. It was such a special day.”

  I took her hand and squeezed, forcing a smile. Nonna and Grandpa had found love in their arranged marriage. Maybe I could find it, too, if I only stopped thinking about Savio. Voices rang out and then Diego walked in followed by Mick who was dressed in a white shirt and trousers and carrying red roses.

  I flushed. He came toward me with a hesitant smile, but, in his eyes, I could see pride. Knowing that he was so pleased to marry me felt nice, but when I looked at him, there were no butterflies or heat waves. He was nice to look at, very tall and slightly muscled, and yet he wasn’t who I wanted.

  Mick handed me the flowers and leaned forward as if he was going to kiss my cheek, but Diego cleared his throat. Rolling his eyes at my brother, Mick straightened. I gave him a quick smile to make up for Diego’s obnoxiousness. Diego didn’t move from my side. “Hey Mick, this is the first time you meet Gemma as your fiancée.” He jerked his chin toward his friend in a sort of greeting that came off like a warning. “Just remember she won’t officially be yours for the next two years.”

  Two years before I’d marry Mick and be his wife—forever. Before we’d share a bed. I checked out Mick discreetly, trying to imagine being intimate with him, kissing him. But every time I tried, Savio’s face popped up. Heat crept up into my cheeks. Diego gave me a questioning look and I quickly tore my gaze away. I needed to stop thinking about Savio. Fidelity was the foundation of any marriage and even just thinking of another man when I was promised to Mick was wrong.

  Mick’s father came toward me and extended his hand. He wasn’t smiling and the way he was checking his surroundings with barely hidden disdain, I knew why. He’d probably hoped his son would make a better match, someone who came from, or rather with money. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Gemma.”

  He was a good liar, I had to give it to him. Mick could obviously see past his father’s mask because his expression flashed with embarrassment.

  “Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure meeting you too,” I said in my best choir girl voice. He released me and turned back to Dad. They settled at the table. Mom and Nonna dis
appeared, probably toward the kitchen and I was about to follow to help when Dad motioned for me to sit.

  Mick gave me another smile as we headed for the table.

  I ended up sitting between Diego and Mick. They talked about races almost all evening, which meant I had to lean back so I wasn’t in the way, but Mick kept checking me out when he thought no one was paying attention.

  After dinner, Mick approached my father. “Can I have a word with your daughter?”

  Dad regarded him and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking like a bouncer. Making sure no one got access before there was a ring on my finger.

  I had to hide a sarcastic laugh by coughing.

  Diego cocked one eyebrow, and just the gesture reminded me so much of a certain Falcone that I had to swallow hard.

  “Diego will stay in the room, but he’ll keep his distance so you’ll have some privacy,” Dad said sternly.

  Mick’s face fell, but he nodded. Mom sent me an encouraging smile, her palm pressed to her still hidden bump, before everyone filed out except for Mick, Diego, and I.

  Diego stood right beside us, practically breathing down my neck. He was taking his guard duties a bit too seriously. I could hold my own. Even if Mick tried to cop a grope, I’d just smash my fist into his face. Diego’s lip was nicely swollen after all. I wondered what he’d told Mick.

  Mick stepped up to my brother, annoyed. “You heard your father. You are supposed to give us privacy, man.”

  “You can have privacy in two years, not before then,” Diego muttered.

  I touched his arm. “Come on. Give us some room. You don’t have to hover like this.”

  He tried to stare me down, but from the two of us, my stubborn streak was stronger. With a frown, he walked into a corner. His death stare directed at Mick was the most ridiculous thing.

  “Thank you. He’s been intolerable since he found out I was going to ask for your hand,” Mick said in a low voice. I wondered just how long Diego had known. He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.

  “That’s how he is,” I said then fell silent, not sure what else to say.

  Mick regarded me with adoration as if he couldn’t believe he really got me. Guilt filled me, knowing I’d never be able to look at him the same way. Or could I? Was there a way I could make myself fall for him like I had fallen for Savio? But falling for Savio had happened without intention or reason, just by literally falling. I almost smiled at the memory. Could something like that even be forced?

  I liked Mick, but love or attraction seemed impossible. Lust out of the question. I flushed.

  Mick noticed and something shifted in his stance. “I know your family are Traditionalists. We, too, abide by very similar rules, so I won’t do anything that’ll make you feel uncomfortable, Gemma. But maybe we can go on occasional dates until then? In public places, and if your father insists on it, with Diego as a chaperone.”

  “Sure,” I got out. I’d definitely insist on Diego being there, not because I couldn’t defend myself against Mick but because I could blame my brother on my awkwardness.

  Mick nodded with a satisfied smile. “Now that everything’s settled, I’ll go looking for an engagement ring for you.”

  My face muscles quivered from the effort to hold the smile. Engagement. Rings. Everything’s settled.

  A sense of finality overcame me and with it a strange mix of sadness and anger.

  My niece Greta tiptoed into the gaming room, dressed in her white frilly nightgown, dragging her favorite stuffed rabbit behind, and I put down my phone, knowing sexting would have to wait until dollface was back up in her bed. The girl, whose name was either Sandra or Sarah, I couldn’t remember, was getting too clingy anyway, so this was just the distraction I needed.

  “It’s bedtime.”

  Greta headed for me, rubbing those big eyes before she stopped in front of me. “Can’t sleep.”

  I leaned down. “Then you came down here? Why didn’t you go to your mom or dad?”

  Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that Remo really had kids. Most of his life he’d spent hating women and now his daughter and wife had him wrapped around their fingers. “They sleep,” she whispered, peering up at me before she opened her tiny arms. “Want cuddles.”

  Cuddles. I smiled wryly and picked her up. She snuggled against my chest like a cat and I wrapped my arms around her as she huddled on my lap. She was tiny for a two-year-old, and so sensitive and quiet that it brought out my protective side.

  “Want to watch your favorite series?”

  She gave a small nod and I picked up my laptop and searched for the series. When the video began playing, Greta leaned her head against my chest and curled her hand around my thumb. It was something she did often, holding on to our fingers as if she needed the additional touch to feel protected. She didn’t understand it yet, she couldn’t, but she was the safest girl in Las Vegas, probably in the States. Remo would burn down the world to protect Greta. Of course, Nino, Adamo, Fabiano, and I would be right by his side.

  I peered down at her as she was transfixed by the animated rabbit and pig on the screen.

  If anyone saw me like this, that would make the rounds. Savio Falcone cuddling with his niece and watching cartoons about nosy rabbits and know-it-all pigs. Greta didn’t release my finger, clutching it tightly in one hand while she held her stuffed rabbit in the other. I always found children annoying, and my nephew Nevio definitely had a talent to drive me up the wall, but fuck, they’d somehow weaseled their way into my fucking heart. And Greta, I doubted anyone who met her didn’t like her.

  Sometimes when I looked at her cute face, I considered having kids myself in the distant future, then Nevio usually did something that made me want to get a vasectomy.

  My phone beeped with a text from Mick. Party in my garage tomorrow. I got a hot reason to celebrate.

  I picked up my phone, typing. Finally, gave a girl the big O?

  Mick replied: Better.

  If you say so. We both know you wouldn’t find a girl’s clit even if a neon arrow pointed straight at it.

  Mick: Shut up. Just wait. Diego, you in?

  Diego: Not sure.

  Mick: Stop being a sore loser.

  Diego: K

  What’s up with you two fuckers?

  Mick: Tomorrow.

  Diego went offline.

  I frowned. He never went offline. Greta’s body had become soft in my hold. She was fast asleep, her bunny clutched against her chest. Sighing, I stood and carried her upstairs into Remo’s wing where I ran across him.

  Relief flickered on his face. “There she is.”

  I handed his daughter over to him and he cradled her protectively in his arms. I already felt sorry for the poor idiot who’d ever want to date Greta. I’d still kill him, but I’d make it quicker than Remo. “She wanted to watch that annoying series and fell asleep.”

  “Why are you pulling a face?” Remo asked.

  “Do you know if anything’s up with Mick or Diego?”

  “Nothing Camorra related,” Remo said. “Why?”

  “They’re acting strange.”

  Maybe they had the hots for the same girl. Diego had only recently dumped Dakota.

  Mick and Diego were already lounging on the shabby sofa in Mick’s garage when I arrived. It still smelled of engine oil and exhaust, even though it hadn’t been used as a garage in years. I grinned at them and threw myself into the shabby old massage chair that had been my seat for a long time now—ever since the spring poking out of the worn-out leather couch had almost fucked my ass. Diego made a face as if he was sucking on a lemon. Mick, however, was grinning ear to ear.

  “What’s up?”

  Mick held out a can of beer, but I shook my head.

  “Fight in three days. I want to stay sharp.” My opponent wasn’t my most difficult challenge yet, but he was a nasty piece of shit, who liked to play dirty.

  Mike practically shoved the beer at me. “Come on.”

  “Jus
t spill the fucking beans.”

  Diego glared, first at Mick, then at me. What the fuck was wrong with him? He looked as if I’d personally insulted him.

  Mick beamed like a goddamn kid on Christmas morning. “I’ll get Gemma!”

  I stiffened. “What do you mean?” My voice was low and threatening, which surprised me. Not as much as the burning ball of jealous rage that singed my insides. I didn’t do jealous. I didn’t care enough about any girl to give a fuck if she went off into the sunset with another guy.

  Diego sneered. “It means my family and Mick’s family agreed that my sister will marry Mick once she turns eighteen. Remember how I told you that we were looking to arrange a marriage for Gemma? How she told you? How Dad told you?”

  I finally took the beer from Mick, popped it open and took a large gulp. Daniele had mentioned that it was time to look for a husband for Gemma. She had mentioned it a few times as well. I’d thought it was her way to tease a reaction out of me, a little game to gauge my interest.

  I was interested in her. Every guy with eyes in his head was interested in her if for one reason only.

  Fuck. I burnt to possess her, but marriage wasn’t part of my life plan.

  Mick looked between Diego and me, his grin falling. “Hey, I wanted to celebrate! What’s with you two? You should be happy for me. I got the girl of my dreams.”

  “Congrats,” I gritted out even though I suddenly felt the need to stick my knife into his eyeball. I eyed the beer bottle. If I smashed it on the edge of the table and shoved the broken glass into his throat, I wouldn’t even have to pull my fucking knife.