Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“Probably. Because no matter what, we can always count on you to be the voice of logic, Nino.”

I gave a tense nod. Indifference and logical analyzing had guided me through my life, had saved mine and Remo’s life on many occasions when his temper had gotten the better of him. But when I was around Kiara, logic was difficult to hold on to. Since the night she told me she loved me, something had shifted. It had started as a small crack but had continuously widened, and I had no way of stopping it. “Are you sure you will be able to do what must be done once you’re in Chicago? You won’t get distracted by thoughts of your father?”

Hate flashed across Fabiano’s face. “I’ve waited a long time. I can wait a few more weeks or months. You don’t have to worry. I will stand by Remo no matter how insane his plan is. I doubt it’s only motivated by strategic motivations.”

“Remo’s plans never are. He wants to play with Dante, wants to tear the Outfit apart from the inside. Remo is the best at mind games.”

“Yeah. Remo knows how to fuck with people’s brain,” Fabiano said with a dark laugh.

He did, and Cavallaro and Scuderi would soon realize their mistake of fucking with the Camorra.

CHAPTER 24

KIARA

Nothing brought me as much comfort as playing Nino’s song, which was ironic considering it filled me with a crushing longing and wistfulness at the same time.

When my fingers got to the part where I came to the realization of my feelings, the melody turned low and dark, as if the piano was reluctant to play the notes, like I had been reluctant to admit my feelings to myself.

Nino stepped in and regarded me silently for a while. I didn’t glance up from the piano keys, playing the song to the end, shivering as the low notes faded away.

“What does it mean?” Nino murmured. “Since you started the song, it has evolved more and more.”

I raised my eyes to his. “It’s the story of my feelings for you,” I admitted. “How I came to accept that I love you and that you can never love me back.” As usual, my throat tightened at my admittance.

Nino’s expression softened ever so slightly and warmth filled his gray eyes, and today I could not take it. This simulated emotion, no matter how good he was at it, would never be enough. I knew it, deep down. “Stop it,” I whispered harshly.

His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer, his motions graceful as always. And I resented even that. He could be so beautiful and intelligent and powerful, but he could never be the one thing I longed for: emotional.

I glared up into his beautifully cold face. “You are too good at this. Too good at simulating affection, at pretending that you care for me. So good, sometimes, I almost believe you could really love me, Nino.” Tears welled in my eyes.

Weak. A fucking fool. What else had Remo called me? He had been right in every regard.

Nino braced himself on the piano, staring down at me. “Maybe I don’t have to simulate,” he said in that smooth voice. “Maybe I love you.”

This was the last straw. I could not take anymore. I jumped up from the bench, wishing he could understand how it tore me apart knowing that I loved someone who could never grasp what it meant to look at another and feel like you would shatter if that person was taken from you.

I gripped the front of his shirt, turning toward my anger. “Don’t lie to me. I told you not to say those words to me if you didn’t mean them. So just don’t.”

I released his shirt, stunned by the look in his eyes. It seemed as if they were burning with emotion. How good was he at faking this?

Swallowing thickly, I whirled around, needing to get away before I allowed myself to become trapped in this horrid simulation again. A clear, low note rang out when I was halfway up the stairs, and I froze, listening to the melody unfolding. It was a beautiful melody, every note complimenting the other. It was well composed but lacked emotion. It was a melody a computer might have created because it was just a bunch of notes strung together to please the average ear. You could listen to it over casual dinner with strangers because it never got your pulse rate up, never tore at your heartstrings or filled your body with sweet longing. Never made you want to cry from the sheer force of emotion it carried.

Then something shifted. At first it was subtle, a slight hiccup in the perfect composition. Darker notes begged for attention and were followed by short, high notes until they battled each other and what appeared to be a perfect composition. Slowly, I turned, terrified of what I would see.