Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

After they had fallen back asleep, I was on my way toward my room when Remo gripped my wrist, stopping me. “Stay with me.”

I nodded and allowed Remo to pull me back to his bedroom, where I put one of his shirts on before slipping under the covers. Remo pulled me against him, wincing as I touched his bruises. “You’re in pain,” I protested, trying to put distance between us, but Remo tightened his hold on me.

“Fuck the pain. I want you in my arms.”

I stilled and finally relaxed against him, my cheek pressed up to his strong chest. This felt too good to be true.

CHAPTER 30

SERAFINA

Christmas rolled around. The first Christmas for Nevio and Greta. The first Christmas as a part of the Falcone clan. After wishing Samuel a merry Christmas and not hearing anything in return, I went downstairs with Nevio and Greta. Remo was already in the living room with his brothers, discussing their plans for future races. After the Outfit attack, safety measures would have to be doubled. I was supposed to help Kiara in the kitchen but still needed to figure out what to do with the kids.

Remo looked up when I entered. As usual, his expression stilled when he saw me with our twins, almost as if he still had a hard time trusting his eyes. “Can you watch them?” I asked as I headed toward them.

Nino sat beside Remo. Adamo and Savio were on the couch across from them. “Will you take Nevio?” I asked Nino who rose at once and took my son from me. Nevio didn’t mind, too fascinated by the tattoos on Nino’s arms. I moved closer to Remo. Greta was clinging to me, still shy around others. Remo gave me a questioning look. He hadn’t held his daughter yet. The only person except for me who didn’t make Greta wail was Kiara.

He gently stroked her black tuft of hair then ran his hand down her back. His voice was low and soft as he spoke to her. “Greta, mia cara.”

My heart seemed to skip a beat. It was the first time I heard Remo speak Italian. My family and I had only ever spoken Italian when we were surrounded by outsiders, and I knew many families handled it the same way. I carefully untangled her from my neck and gave her to Remo. Her big dark eyes blinked up at him, and her face began to twist. Remo rocked her gently in the crook of his arm then lowered his face and kissed the top of her head. She let out a hesitant cry, as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to wail or not. I handed him her favorite rattle, and he showed it to her.

She reached for it, eyes already brightening, and he helped her shake it. I took a step back then another as Remo rocked her. Remo sank down, still rattling and whispering words of consolation. Greta’s expression made it clear that she wasn’t convinced yet but that she wasn’t wailing was a good sign.

Savio and Adamo looked as if they were having a stroke. I got it. Remo was one of the most feared men of the country, and here he cradled his baby girl in his arms, patient and careful. Nino was rocking Nevio on his thigh, and my son let out delighted screeches.

“I suppose that’s the end of my whoring days in the house,” Savio muttered.

Remo looked up from Greta, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want a fucking whore anywhere near my children.”

Greta cried at the harshness in his voice, and Remo’s lips tightened. He shook her gently then murmured something I didn’t catch. The moment she stopped crying, I turned and left. My babies were cared for.

I finally went to help Kiara in the kitchen. Kiara was taking care of the vegetarian appetizers and the vegetarian main course, while I tried my hand at a roast beef and a chocolate cake. I didn’t have much experience preparing any kind of food except for the occasional baby puree, so this proved to be a challenge.

Later we all settled around the table with a well-done roast beef, not medium rare as intended, and a slightly burnt chocolate cake, but nobody minded. During my captivity I’d only caught glimpses of the brotherly bond Remo and his brothers shared, but now as I became a part of their family, I realized just how strongly they cared for each other. Remo had traded himself for Adamo, had signed his death sentence so Adamo could live. There was no greater sign of love than that. It gave me hope that Remo was capable of that kind of emotion.

When Remo and I returned to our bedroom that night, I risked another glance at my phone, and my shoulders slumped. No messages.