Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

I stood at one of the barbecues, turning ribs to keep me busy as I scanned the crowd. Thanks to the barbecues and firepit, the air was still hot and many party guests danced half-naked. None of the girls wore more than a bikini top and hotpants, and even most guys had discarded their shirts by now. I was one of them but so close to the barbecue, a fine sheen of sweat covered my chest despite my lack of clothes.

I froze when I finally discovered Dinara. I’d been looking for her since the start of the party but either she’d hidden in the crowd so far or she joined the party only now. The sun was starting to disappear behind the horizon. I shoved the barbecue tongs at Crank and left my spot at the barbecue to get a closer look at Dinara. The sight was too beautiful to miss.

She danced barefoot under the sinking sun, her red hair aflame in the dimming glow. She was beautifully imperfect—imperfectly beautiful. She was laughter and lightness and happiness.

Our eyes met and for a second she seemed to still, a slight hitch in her charade, then she threw her head back and laughed. She started spinning around herself until she lost her balance and stumbled toward me. She collided with my chest hard, still giggling. Her eyes glowed with forced happiness. No one saw the darkness lingering just beneath.

“Fake it till you make it,” she breathed then crashed her lips against mine. Kissing, we tumbled to the ground under the cheers of the crowd. I rolled onto my back, taking her with me. She straddled my hips and let out a battle cry.

I smiled.

Fake it till you make it. I could do that for her, if this was what she needed to get past her demons, past her despair. Her breath smelled of alcohol and marihuana, but she wasn’t drunk or high enough to explain her sudden cheer. She wanted to forget, to be happy and she was determined to force it.

The crowd began to dance in a circle around us and Dinara leaned down again for a lingering kiss. She was usually less open with public displays of affection, but I took her up without hesitation and kissed her back, wanting everyone to see that she was mine—now and for however long she let me.

“Dance with me. Help me forget tonight,” she rasped, her eyes almost feverish with despair. “Let’s just be us tonight. Not anyone’s daughter or brother. Let’s be in the moment. No past, no future.”

I clapped her ass in response, causing the crowd to roar with delight. Dinara’s eyes flashed with indignation, then eagerness. I grabbed her hips and sat up. “Just us.” I kissed her harshly before I nodded at one of the female dancers. She grabbed Dinara and pulled her into the dancing circle. I jumped to my feet and joined them. We danced until our feet hurt, until our surroundings became blurry from alcohol and the joints that were passed along.

Dinara never strayed from my side, our bodies molded together as we danced to the beat. Feeling her body pressed up against mine and seeing the fire in her eyes, desire for her flamed up in me and soon my cock dug against her belly. Her eyes lit up with lust. I leaned down, kissing her ear. “I need to fuck you now, Dinara.”

“Then fuck me,” she said. I lifted her off the ground and her legs wrapped around my hips as I carried her away from the party. Hiding wasn’t an option anymore. Everyone knew about us by now, and I wanted them to know. I wanted the whole fucking world to know about Dinara and me, even the Bratva and her murderous father.

The next afternoon, Crank approached me as I was on my way to take a shower. My head was throbbing with a headache. Dinara and I had kept each other awake until the early morning, and even returned to the party in between our alone times. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been this shitfaced. The last thing I wanted was to talk to anyone, especially because Crank’s expression told me I wouldn’t like what he’d have to say. “Trouble?” I asked, waiting on the first step to the washroom trailer for him.

He grimaced. “I heard that Dinara asked around for drugs, Adamo.”

My eyes darted across the camp toward my car and the tent where Dinara and I had spent the night. I didn’t see her anywhere so she was probably still asleep. “What kind of drugs?”

“She wasn’t picky. But cocaine or heroin were her preferred choices.”

I nodded slowly. There wasn’t a rule against drugs during the races. Several racers were loyal customers of the Camorra’s drug dealers, mostly ecstasy and LSD though. And I knew that many people had been high on more than weed last night. I didn’t get involved in this side of our business. It was too risky for me to be around harder drugs, even if I’d been clean for many years. I’d learned not to trust easily, least of all myself.