Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

I didn’t deny it.

“Why do you even want to protect me?”

To be honest, I didn’t know. Perhaps Aria had somehow managed to get through to me, and it made me fucking furious to think about it. That fucking bracelet. I shouldn’t have accepted it.

“There’s nothing I could give you in return.” Her expression became more determined. “I don’t have any money to spare, and I don’t think you’d want it. You certainly don’t need it. And if it’s something else you want, I’m not that kind of girl.”

Not that kind of girl. Remo’s words about her mother flashed through my mind. Was this an act after all?

There was an easy way to find out of course. I gripped her hips. Her lips parted in surprise but I didn’t give her the chance to voice a protest.

I kissed her and after a moment of hesitation she kissed me back.

I knew at once that she didn’t have much experience kissing. Fuck. That knowledge was the last straw. I had to have her. Every little inch of her. Every hair. Every freckle. Every fucking shy smile. For myself.

And I had to protect her from all the wolves she reckoned were sheep. My fingers tangled in her curls, angling her head to the side to give me better access to that sweet mouth of hers.

I slid my hands from her waist to her bare back again, then lower. Her hands came up against my chest. I savored the taste of her a few seconds longer before I allowed her to push me away.

Her dark lashes fluttered as her gaze found mine. In the light of the spotlights, I couldn’t see if her cheeks were as flushed as I expected them to be. I brought my hand up and brushed my knuckles along her high cheekbones. Her skin was practically burning up with embarrassment and want. My cock twitched in my pants.

She tore herself away from me, walked to the edge of the hill we were on and looked out toward the bright city lights.

I let my eyes take in her silhouette for a couple of moments, allowing her to gather herself, before I approached and came to a stop right behind her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence except for the slight tensing of her shoulders. Her sweet flowery perfume drifted into my nose. I traced the line of her spine with my knuckles, needing to feel her silky skin.

That touch ignited desires I’d suppressed for a long time. Fabiano always touched me as if he didn’t want me to find reprieve from him. Did he know the effect he had on me?

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

“Because I thought you’d appreciate the sight. You haven’t been in Las Vegas for very long.”

“Wouldn’t the Strip be the better place to show someone the city?”

Fabiano stepped up to my side, and I was glad to be able to see him again. Having him so close behind me, having him ran his fingers down my spine, was too distracting.

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his blue eyes straying over the city below us. And for the first time I caught the briefest glimpse behind his mask. This was a place he was coming to often. I could tell. This city, it was important to him. It was his home.

I’d never had a place to call home. How would it be to look at something or someone, and feel home?

“There are too many people around who don’t get the city. Up here I have the city to myself.”

“So you don’t like to share?” I said teasingly.

He turned his gaze to me. “Never. Not even my city.”

I shivered. Nodding, I quickly looked back to the skyline. “Were you born here?”

I wasn’t very perceptive but I could tell that he didn’t like where our conversation was heading.

“No. Not in the sense that you mean,” he said quietly. “But I was reborn here.”

I searched his face, but he wasn’t giving anything away. His face was all hard lines. Silence stretched between us.

“I thought this could be a new start for me as well,” I said eventually.

“Why would you need a new start?”

“All my life I’ve been judged for the faults of my mother. I want to be judged for my own doing.”

“Being in the shadow of your family isn’t easy,” he said, meeting my gaze. Another small crack in his mask. “But being judged for your own wrongdoings can be hard as well.”

“Do you think I will do many wrong things?”

He smirked. “You are here with me. I’d say you have a strong penchant for the wrong things.”

I feared he was right. “Because you are in the mafia.”

“Because I am part of the Camorra.” I loved the way he rolled the ‘r’s when he said the word. I could almost feel the vibrations all the way in the pit of my stomach. But I wondered why he insisted there was a difference between the Camorra and the mafia.