Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

Fabiano released me and joined the other men, leaving me standing in the middle of the room like a piece of meat that needed inspecting. Dread settled in my bones because maybe that was exactly what I was to them. Meat.

Remo pointed at the gray-eyed man. “That’s my brother Nino.” Then he gestured at the younger man beside him. “And my brother Savio.”

Remo stalked closer, every muscle in his upper body taut, as if he was a predator about to pounce. I stood my ground. I wouldn’t give him an inch. I wouldn’t give him anything. Not my fear and not a single tear. He couldn’t force those from me. I didn’t kid myself thinking that I could stop him from taking anything else.

“Serafina Cavallaro.” My name was a caress on his lips as he slowly walked around me. He stopped close behind me so I couldn’t see him.

I suppressed a shiver. “Not Cavallaro. That’s my uncle’s name, not mine.”

Remo’s breath fanned over my neck. “In every regard that matters, you are a Cavallaro.”

I dug my nails into my palms. Nino’s gray eyes followed the movement without a flicker of emotion on his face. Fabiano perched on the desk, looking at the man behind me but not me. Savio regarded me with a mix of curiosity and calculation.

I didn’t say anything, only stared stubbornly ahead. Remo circled me and stopped in front of me. He was a tall man, and I wished for my heels. I wasn’t exactly small, but barefoot only the top of my head reached his chin. I lifted my head slightly, trying to appear taller.

Remo’s mouth twitched. “I hear you were supposed to marry your fiancé, Danilo Mancini, yesterday,” he said with a twisted grin. “So I robbed you of your wedding night.”

I remembered Mom’s consoling words. That Danilo would be good to me. That I didn’t have to be scared of him claiming his rights after our wedding. And Samuel’s words that he’d hunt down Danilo if he didn’t treat me like a lady.

As I stared up into the face of Remo Falcone, my worry of having sex with Danilo seemed ridiculous. The Camorra wouldn’t be good to me. The name of their Capo was spoken in hushed, terrified whispers even among women in the Outfit. And a terror unlike anything I’d ever encountered gripped me, but I forced it down. Pride was the only weapon I had, and I would hold on to it until the very end.

“I wonder if you let your fiancé have a taste before your wedding,” Remo murmured, his voice a low vibrato full of threat, his dark eyes raking over me.

Indignation filled me. How dare he suggest something like that? “Of course not,” I said coldly. “The first kiss of a honorable Outfit woman happens on her wedding day.”

His grin widened, wolf-like, and I realized my mistake. He’d led me into a trap. My own pride a weapon he used against me.

REMO

She held her head high in spite her mistake. Her long blond hair trailed down her back. Cool blue eyes assessed me like I wasn’t worth her attention. Perfect.

Highborn and about to take a deep fall.

“So proud and cold,” I said, trailing a finger down her cheek and throat. “Just like good ol’ Uncle Dante.” She turned her face away with a disgusted expression.

I laughed. “Oh yes, that stupid Outfit pride. I can’t wait to rid you of it.”

“I’ll take that pride to the grave with me,” she said haughtily.

I leaned even closer, my body lightly pressing up against hers. “Killing you is the last thing on my mind, believe me.” I let my eyes travel the length of her body. “There are far more entertaining things I can think of.”

Terror flashed over her face, only briefly, then it was gone. But I saw it. So death didn’t bother the girl, or so she thought, but the idea of being touched by me put a chink into that prideful exterior.

“So you have never kissed a man before,” I mused, leaning in so close that our lips were almost touching.

She stood her ground, but a slight tremor went through her body. She pressed her lips together, refusing an answer.

“This will be fun.”

“My family and fiancé will tear down Las Vegas if you hurt me.”

“Oh, I hope they do, so I can bathe in their blood,” I said. “But I doubt you’ll be worth their trouble once I’m done with you. Or will your fiancé settle for the leftovers of another man?”

She finally took a step back.

My smile pulled wider. Her eyes darted to something behind me. To someone. I followed her gaze to Fabiano. His eyes met mine, his expression hard and unrelenting, but I knew him inside out. He’d known Serafina as a child, had played with her. There was a hint of strain in his eyes, but he wouldn’t come to her aid, neither would Nino or Savio.