Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

“I did, and so did Remo. He tore his position as Capo from the bleeding hands of the man who deemed himself capable of the job.”

“And his brothers? What about them? Is that why they all have to fight? To prove their worth.”

“That’s one reason, yes.”

It was strange that humankind thought it had come so far, that humans considered themselves superior to animals, when we, too, still followed our base instincts. We looked up to the strong, eager for a true leader, an alpha to guide our way, to take away the difficult decisions. The thrill of power struggles still captivated us – why else were sports like cage fighting or boxing so popular?

I realized we weren’t heading for my father’s apartment nor to Fabiano’s place.

“Hungry?” he asked, nodding toward the KFC drive-thru, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I nodded, wondering what he was up to.

“How about chicken for dinner and Las Vegas to ourselves?” he asked.

I smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

The car smelled of the fried chicken and fries as Fabiano drove us up to the hill he had taken me for our first date. We were probably the only people who celebrated Christmas Eve with a KFC meal but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I’d had many better Christmas dinners in the previous years. I was glad that Fabiano wasn’t trying to imitate a traditional celebration. We parked at the very edge of the hill and stared out toward the bright city lights as we ate. “I think this is the best Christmas of my life,” I said between bites of chicken.

“I wished it weren’t,” Fabiano murmured.

I shrugged. “So you had good Christmases with your family?”

The walls came up but he gave me a reply. “When I was young, five or six, before my oldest sister left. After that, things quickly went downhill.”

He fell silent, and put down his half eaten drum.

I licked sauce off my fingers, then dropped them self-consciously when I noticed Fabiano watching me. He reached for my throat and brushed over my pulse point where he’d left a mark two days ago, his blue eyes possessive and…something gentler.

“Let’s go out for a bit. I have a blanket in the trunk.”

Fabiano got out of the car and picked up the blanket. I walked up to the hood of the car and let my eyes take in the skyline. Las Vegas looked like it always did. It was flashy and colorful and bright. It could have been any other evening than Christmas, and I was glad for it. Fabiano came up beside me and handed me the wool blanket against the cold. I wrapped it around myself. It was soft and smelled of lavender. Fabiano’s body was taut with tension, and he was looking – no, glaring down at a small parcel in his hands.

A dark blue parcel with a silver ribbon. Oh, no. Was this for me? My stomach plummeted. I didn’t have anything for him. I hadn’t even thought about it. It had been so long since I’d celebrated Christmas in any way that I hadn’t even considered buying him a present. And what could I have gotten him anyway? He had every luxury possible.

I looked up from the parcel to find Fabiano now regarding me as if he was trying to make up his mind. Eventually he held out his hand with the present.

I didn’t take it. “You don’t have to give me anything.”

His grip on the parcel tightened. “I want it gone.”

Okay. I blinked.

I took the parcel hesitantly. “I don’t have anything for you.”

He didn’t look surprised. “You didn’t have to, Leona. It’s nothing.”

“No it’s not. Nobody has given me a Christmas present in years,” I admitted, and felt raw because of it.

Fabiano’s expression softened for the briefest moment. I opened the parcel with shaking fingers. Inside was a bracelet that looked suspiciously like gold. Small blue stones decorated it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Put it on,” he said as he sank down on the hood of his car. He had a very strange look in his eyes as he regarded the bracelet as if it had come to haunt him.

I held my arm out for him and he fastened the bracelet around my wrist. The stones flashed in the light of the car. I’d have to keep it hidden from my father, and in the bar as well. It was pathetic to think that I would rarely have an opportunity to wear it openly.

I searched Fabiano’s eyes. They gave nothing away. Part of me was scared of what I wanted. Part of me was scared he’d grow tired of me the moment I gave him what he wanted. I knew how things could turn out.

His hand found mine, linking our fingers and I stared down at our hands, then slowly back up because I wasn’t sure if he was doing this because he knew how it affected me or if he was being real. If this – whatever it was – was real.