Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

Remo turned to me fully, narrowing his eyes, and for a moment I wanted to go over and hug him, hug the young boy who saved Nino and Savio and even the unborn Adamo, who fought an insane mother and burned so they could all live, but Remo was a man now and not one you wanted to console. My eyes lingered on the scar crossing his eyebrow, and compassion for him filled me. Maybe Remo was beyond redemption in many people’s eyes, but he had saved his brothers, had saved Nino.

I wondered how he remembered that day, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask him. Remo stalked toward me, and I looked up into his face when he stopped right in front of me. “Why are you giving me that fucked-up look?” he growled, but for once there wasn’t only anger in his eyes … there was apprehension.

I shook my head. “I wanted to thank you for saving Nino.”

Remo stiffened and something hard and dangerous curled in the depth of his eyes.

“Two nights ago,” I added, because self-preservation kicked in, but Remo knew that wasn’t what I’d been referring to.

Yet he stepped back and gave a tense shrug. “Someone had to snap him out of it.”

I took a step back as well.

“Oh, and Kiara, not a word about any of this to Savio and Adamo. They don’t need to know.”

About Nino’s breakdown. About the past. They didn’t remember, didn’t know, and keeping that truth from them was probably another way Remo protected them.

My eyes were closed as I listened to the music, my fingers gliding over the keys. Nothing brought me more serenity than creating melodies. It was an outlet for the chaos of emotions inside of me.

“You’re really good at it,” Remo said.

I jumped, my eyes flying open and settling on Remo. He stood in the doorway for a moment then walked toward me. As usual, my body tensed in his presence.

“Still?” he asked with a wry smile. He leaned against the piano, looking down on me with these impossibly dark, dangerous eyes. “Still terrified of me.”

I laughed. “Remo, is there a woman in Las Vegas or anywhere else who isn’t scared of you?”

His smile pulled wider. “There’s no man either.”

I sighed. My gaze flickered to the scar on his face, remembering the story Nino had told me, wondering how a man capable of unspeakable acts could have risked his life to save his brothers. Remo Falcone was a complete mystery to me.

Remo’s eyes narrowed, and he moved closer, leaning over me, one hand braced on the keys, causing the piano to release a high-pitched whine. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he growled. “What did Nino tell you?”

I swallowed. “Don’t come so close,” I said firmly.

Remo’s lips tightened dangerously, but he straightened his body, giving me more space. “I told you before and I will tell you again: You are Nino’s. You are safe.”

“I know,” I said. “But I can’t help my body’s reaction to you. Maybe it’ll fade.”

He shrugged. “He told you about our mother, didn’t he?”

There was a tone to his voice that made the little hairs on my neck rise. “He did.”

Remo gave a sharp nod. Then he warned in a low voice, “Some things need to stay buried. She is one of them. And Nino’s emotions probably too. I don’t know what you want from him, but for his sake and yours, don’t push him.”

Early the next day, Nino and I set out for our first hike together. I wasn’t overly fit, but having Nino to myself, surrounded by beautiful red stone formations, was too enticing. He took us back to the Red Canyon National park. He was quiet during the ride, focused on the street, but his eyes seemed to see beyond the road ahead.

He surprised me when he took my hand, resting both on my bare thigh. His warmth seeped into me, but that wasn’t why my chest felt warmer.

We parked our car and set off for the circular trail. Nino was dressed in a tight, white T-shirt and gym shorts, his hair falling into his eyes. He also carried a massive backpack with provisions. I had opted for shorts and a top. It was only seven o’clock, but the day would be hot.

Nino lightly touched my back. “Ready for your first hike?”

I smiled. “With you at my side, I can do anything.”

His expression softened. He nudged me closer and kissed me before he straightened and pointed at the trail. I was still taken aback by his show of affection. Not trying to analyze it, I fell into a stride beside Nino. He pointed out particularly beautiful stone formations. They glowed in different shades of red and orange.

Despite nature’s beauty, my gaze kept returning to Nino. He had been different since I’d told him I loved him. Did he feel pressured to simulate emotions more often? Was that why he had been acting off? But I couldn’t imagine that Nino yielded under pressure. Nino was strong, hardened. He was a Falcone.