Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

He cupped my face and pulled me toward him. My knees hit the bumper between his legs as our bodies molded together. He kissed me, slow and languid. I pressed my palms against his firm chest, feeling his calm heartbeat. His lips trailed over my cheek, then brushed my ear. “I can think of something you could give me as a present.”

I stilled against him, my gaze seeking his. In the near dark it was difficult to read him. Sometimes it felt like he was doing it on purpose, saying something to break the moment, to destroy what could amount to something beautiful.

Why? I cleared my throat. “I told you—”

“You won’t sleep with me, I know.”

I raised the wrist with the bracelet. “Is that why you bought this?”

His eyes narrowed. “So you would sleep with me?” He let out a dark laugh. “To be honest, I’d hoped you would want to do it without the help of fancy jewelry.”

I flushed. “I do.”

His eyes became eager, his body alert. “You do?” he asked in a low voice.

“But not today, and not tomorrow. I need to get to know you better.”

His face was very close and he shook his head. “You know everything there is to know. And everything you don’t know yet, is for your own good.”

“I want to know everything, not just the good things.”

“There are no good things, Leona. You know the bad things, and there are only worse things lurking behind them.”

“I don’t believe that,” I whispered, leaning close and kissing him lightly.

“You should. I’m everything people warn you about. I’m every despicable thing they tell you and worse.”

“Then why do I feel safe when I’m with you?”

He shook his head, face almost angry. “Because you don’t know what’s good for you, and because you only see what you want to see.”

“You are kind to me.”

That seemed to be the last straw. He stood, his hands clutching my upper arms. “I’m not kind, Leona. Have never been. To no one.”

“To me you are,” I said stubbornly. Why couldn’t he see it?

He glared down at me, then raised his eyes to the city behind my back. His grip on my arms loosened. What was he thinking?

He sank back down on the hood, before he turned me around and pulled me against him, so my back was pressed up against his chest. “Tell me something about your family,” I whispered. “Anything.”

For a long time he didn’t react. “My sisters raised me more than my mother or father did.”

I held my breath, hoping he’d say more. Eventually, I risked another question. “How were they?”

Fabiano rested his head lightly on the top of my head. “Aria was protective and caring. Gianna loyal and fierce. Lily hopeful and lighthearted.” I tried to picture them together, trying to bring together Fabiano’s description with the press photo I’d found and their fake smiles in it.

“And you? How were you as a boy?”

His grip on my hips became painful, and I knew he was slipping away. “I was weak.”

“You were a child.” I felt him shake his head, then he pulled back. I didn’t want him to and put my hands over his to keep them in place. “What happened?”

“They left. Because they did, my father wanted me dead. And the boy he wanted dead, he died.”

What? His father had wanted him dead?

His breath was hot against my throat when he murmured. “I want to see you naked.”

I tensed, then tried to turn around to him to look at him but he wouldn’t let me see his face. His hands on my waist kept me in place. His sudden change of topic and mood disturbed me. “You said you felt safe with me. Then prove it. I want to see every inch of you.”

“It’s not fair that you’re using it against me,” I said quietly. My mind was whirring with what he’d told me.

“If you feel safe, then you trust me?”

Did I trust him? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time, if ever. I didn’t even trust myself half the time.

“Or perhaps deep down you know that you can’t trust a man like me. Perhaps deep down you know I’m not safe.” He sounded triumphant.

I reached for the zipper on the side of my dress and slowly began moving it down. Fabiano released me so I could stand and lower the zipper completely. I reached for the hem of the dress but Fabiano’s hands were there, stopping me. “Let me.”

I raised my arms despite my nerves and he pulled the garment over my head. I shivered against the cold. He had seen me in my underwear before and yet this felt different, more exposing. I met his gaze. He sat on the edge of the hood, body taut with anticipation, like a jaguar on the verge of jumping. “Come,” he said quietly, and I stepped between his legs. He unhooked my bra and let it drop to the ground between us. Then his fingers hooked in the hem of my panties. Slowly he raked them down my hips until they fell to my feet. His eyes took in my body unabashedly. His gaze lingered on my most private part and I had to fight the urge to cover myself. The way he regarded me as if I was special made my breath catch in my throat. “See,” I said eventually. “I do feel safe with you.”