Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

The waiter brought us our wine at that moment. A blood red Shiraz. Nino raised his glass with a strange smile. It was so very difficult to read him. “To a place in the spotlight. No hiding ever again, Kiara.”

I clanged my glass against his and took a deep gulp. “No hiding ever again.”

The waiter arrived with the appetizers a second later. Everything was delicious, spicy, and extravagant. Nino was easy to talk to. I could have listened to him answering my questions about Las Vegas history all night.

He knew everything. Eventually, more personal questions crossed my mind. “Why did your father send you to boarding school in England? Most Made Men keep their sons close because they want to teach them everything they need to know to become Made Men themselves.”

The mentioning of Benedetto Falcone brought an immediate change to Nino’s body language. When before he had been relaxed, his shoulders now tensed considerably and his expression turned colder. “Our father didn’t want Remo and me under his roof, and he knew he didn’t have to prepare us for becoming Camorrista anymore.”

“But you were twelve and fourteen at the time, and your brothers were even younger.”

Nino smiled, and I took another deeper gulp of wine because his expression gave me the chills. “Our father knew Remo and I would have killed him if we stayed. Remo killed his first man three years before at eleven, and shortly before our father sent us away, I had killed my first man together with Remo. Our father knew he had no way of controlling us, so he sent us away. He knew we wouldn’t leave without our brothers, so he sent Adamo and Savio away as well.”

“That’s horrible,” I whispered.

Nino took a swig of his own wine. “It made us stronger, brought us closer. Regret over the past is wasted time.”

I could feel the effects of the wine by now. Red wine was definitely stronger than the occasional glass of champagne or white wine I’d had in the past.

Nino tilted his head. “I think you’ve had enough wine.”

I smiled. “You think?” For some reason, I took another gulp of the red liquid, and Nino shook his head, his mouth twitching.

“You will regret this tomorrow morning.”

“I thought regret is wasted time,” I said.

His mouth twitched again. “It is, but right now you still have the chance to prevent yourself from regretting anything.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” I said. I felt hot and fuzzy. I’d probably have the headache of my lifetime in the morning.

Nino waved over the waiter and paid for our dinner. I got up and immediately realized that I was a bit tipsier than I thought, but I straightened my spine, not wanting to appear drunk in public. Nino wrapped an arm around my waist, and I was too grateful for its steadying effect to tense up at the contact. He led me out of the restaurant.

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” I whispered before I plopped down in the car seat with less grace than intended.

“It was surprisingly pleasant,” Nino agreed, and I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The wine had loosened my control.

Nino raised his eyebrows and closed the door. I leaned against the window, closing my eyes.

I woke with my head against something hot and hard. My body stiffened when I realized I was in someone’s arms, being carried.

“Shh, Kiara. You are safe.”

I peered up at Nino’s calm face and forced my body to relax in his hold. “Where are we?” I asked groggily. My brain felt foggy.

“At home.”

It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what he meant. Then I recognized our bedroom. He set me down in the center of the room. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

I nodded and immediately regretted the motion. Nino gripped my hip to steady me. “Can you do this?”

“Yes,” I said quickly because I didn’t want Nino to undress me.

I wasn’t sure how long it took me to get out of my dress and go through my evening routine, but it felt like forever before I finally lay down in bed.

Nino joined me shortly after. “Tell me if you’re going to be sick.” He touched my forehead with his palm, and I leaned in to the touch, but then he dropped his arm. He stretched out on his back beside me, and I scooted closer, reaching for his arm. My fingertips curiously traced the tattoo of a shadowy figure amidst surging flames. When my eyes managed to focus, I realized a name was written in the flames. It was small and you had to take a closer look to distinguish it from the fire. Remo.

“You have Remo’s name tattooed on your arm.”

Nino regarded me without a flicker of emotion. “I have Savio’s and Adamo’s name tattooed on my other arm.”