Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

I moved closer. “And who is it you’re pretending to be?”

She glared. “More than white trash.”

“White trash,” I repeated in as calm a voice as my anger allowed. “Who called you that?”

“I’m the daughter of a junkie and a gambling addict. I am white trash. I’m not this.” She gestured at her reflection.

“Nobody will ever call you white trash again, you listen? And if they do, you will tell me and I will rip their throats out, how about that?”

She tilted her head, again trying to read me, to understand. “You can’t change my past. You can’t change who I am.”

“No,” I said with a shrug, my finger trailing down her throat. She wasn’t breathing, and I, too, held my breath at the feel of her soft skin. “But you can. I can only force people to treat you as you want to be treated.”

She tore her gaze away from mine and took a step back. I dropped my hand, then went back out and selected another dress. She took it without a word and slipped back into the cabin.

I sank down on one of the too soft armchairs. She looked fucking good in every dress she tried. Nobody would take her for white trash dressed like that. Nobody should take her for white trash dressed in her fucking second hand clothes either. “Buy them all,” I told her but she shook her head firmly.

“One,” she said, raising a single finger. “I’ll get one because I promised you. But no more.” She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. Stubborn and brave, despite what she knew of me.

“Then take that one,” I pointed at the dark green dress that she’d put on first.

“Isn’t it too revealing?” she whispered.

“You have the body for it.”

A pleased flush spread across her freckled cheeks, but there was still hesitation. “I don’t want people to get the wrong impression.”

I tilted my head. “What kind of impression?”

She looked away, fumbling with the fabric of the dress. When the vendor was out of sight, she said quietly, “That I’m selling more than drinks. Cheryl mentioned that a few customers pay her to do other things.”

I rose from the armchair and moved closer. She peered up at me. “Nobody will try anything, Leona. They know you are off limits.”

Her brows drew together. “Why?”

“Take the dress,” I ordered.

She stiffened her spine again. Stubborn. I softened my next words. “You promised.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I turned to the vendor, who was hovering outside the changing rooms. “She’s going to put it on right away. We still need shoes.”

She hurried off and came back with the matching flats in dark green leather. I’d hoped for stilettos but I doubted Leona could walk in them anyway. I nodded my approval and she handed them to Leona. Her eyes met mine, and again the question, then she disappeared behind the curtain once more.

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.