Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles 5)

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.”

“Just 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.

I brought the bottle to my lips and emptied the beer in one gulp. Diego regarded me over his own bottle as if he too considered using the bottle to slice someone open, only in his case that someone was going to be me. He sneered at me again.