Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“You won’t find out if you don’t talk to him. If he hasn’t pushed you yet, do you think he would do it after you ask him for more?”

I wasn’t sure. But if I got close to Nino, I needed him to stop seeking out other women, and I wasn’t sure if he’d agree to that as long as I wasn’t giving him what he needed. Why should he do this on my terms?

I was nervous all day because of my conversation with Leona, and even music hardly managed to set me at ease this time. My fingers kept stumbling over the notes, so I had to keep starting from scratch.

When Nino came home late in the afternoon, looking as beautifully cold as ever—dressed all in black, tall and muscled—and leaned against the piano to listen to me play, I finally gathered my courage. “I’d like to go out for dinner.”

His brows drew together. “Of course.”

“Just the two of us,” I blurted.

He regarded me calmly, his eyes searching my face. I wondered how much of my feelings he could guess and how much of them would always remain a secret to him. Sometimes it came as a relief that he had trouble reading emotions. “Tonight?”

My fingers stopped on the keys. “That would be lovely. But can you get a table that quickly?”

He chuckled, and I let out a small laugh, remembering who I was talking to. “Never mind.”

“What would you like to eat? Asian? European?”

“Asian. I haven’t eaten much of it yet except for sushi.”

“Then I’ll book a table at the best Szechuan restaurant in town.”

“What do I have to wear? Is there a dress code?”

Nino’s eyes trailed over me. “Something red.”

I blinked. That wasn’t the answer I had expected. “Why red?” I couldn’t imagine guests were required to wear a certain color, but this was Las Vegas and anything was possible.

“Because I think it will go well with your dark hair and honey skin. I want you to stand out, not blend in.”

I stared down at my arm. Nobody had ever described my skin as honey colored. A pleasing warmth settled in my chest. “I don’t have anything in red. Most of my clothes are meant to make me blend in,” I said.

Nino nodded. “I got that.” He glanced down at his watch. “If we head out now, we can buy you something and still have enough time to return home and get ready, if I book the table at eight.” He didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he picked up his phone, dialed a number, and two minutes later we had a table. Another customer would hear some kind of excuse why they wouldn’t be dining at Chengdu tonight.

“Come now,” Nino said, holding out his hand. I had to admit that I enjoyed his small touches. My hand in his didn’t feel as if it was caging me in or anything close to it. It made me feel safe.

I put my palm in his and followed him to his Bugatti Veyron. “Where are we going?” I asked as we pulled down the driveway.

“It’s a boutique where Fabiano occasionally buys dresses for Leona. From what he tells me, they have extravagant pieces. I’ve never been there. They don’t sell men’s clothing.”

I laughed nervously. “How much attention am I supposed to draw to us?”

“As much attention as you deserve, Kiara. You are too beautiful to lurk in the shadows. And as my wife, you will have to get used to the spotlight.”

My insides warmed at his compliment. He’d told me that he found me beautiful before, but it still felt wonderful to hear him say it again.

The store offered an overwhelming selection of dresses in all colors, and from the moment we entered, the saleswoman hovered around us like a mother hen. She kept throwing Nino nervous glances, obviously eager to please him, but, of course, his face gave nothing away.

“We’re looking for dresses in red,” he said, his palm still pressed lightly against my back.

“Oh, we have a few beautiful pieces in that color. Let me show you. Your wife will look absolutely stunning in them.”

Nino looked at me with a glint in his eyes. “That she will.”

I shivered, and again it wasn’t in fear. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but my body reacted to Nino in a way that was unsettling and exhilarating at once. We followed the woman back toward a secluded part of the boutique where the changing rooms were. “I’ll be back in a moment. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” I said with a smile.

Nino nodded his agreement. Then the woman dashed off. He lowered his hand from my back. The saleswoman returned with three dresses thrown over her arm. I slipped into the changing room, and she handed me the first dress. It was like a second skin and went to my knees, accentuating every curve with a high collar and no sleeves. People would be staring if I wore this, especially men.