Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“You recognize the melody?” I asked, surprised.

“I have good hearing and a good memory.”

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I stood and moved over to him. His own eyes lingered on my bare legs, then moved higher, pausing briefly on my chest before they stopped on my face. Warmth flooded my body. It wasn’t the first time I noticed him looking at me like that.

“A couple of things,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. I slipped mine into his grasp without a second thought. “Come on. Remo will be intolerable if the pizza gets cold.”

“Isn’t he always?”

Nino’s mouth twitched. “He’ll be even more intolerable.”

“We don’t want that. One of these days, he’ll make a widower out of you.”

Nino’s hand tightened around mine. “You are the safest woman in the city. Trust me.”

As we headed into the main part of the mansion, I risked the occasional glance at his face. He didn’t exactly look emotionless, more relaxed.

He glanced at me. “Everything okay?”

I nodded quickly, glad that we’d arrived in the gaming room where Savio and Remo were already waiting on us. As usual, dinner wouldn’t take place in the dining room at a proper table but on the sofa with pizza cartons strewn haphazardly around the living room table.

A fight was playing on the big TV screen. Remo sat on one sofa and Savio on the other. Neither wore shirts. It was hot outside, but I really wished they had chosen to wear more than sweatpants. Unlike Nino, they didn’t have any tattoos on their torsos, only the marking of the Camorra on their forearms and Remo’s angel on his back.

They hadn’t begun eating yet.

“Where’s the kid? He’s driving me up the wall,” Remo muttered then shouted, “Adamo, get your fucking ass down here. Pizza’s getting cold.”

I had eaten more pizza in my marriage to Nino than in my entire life before him. Nino led me toward Remo’s sofa, but thankfully he sank down beside his brother. The sofas were huge, so we didn’t even have to sit very close, and yet sitting beside Remo would have been too much. Nino released my hand and grabbed a beer from the selection on the table.

I regarded the five extra-large pizzas. It was pretty clear which one was mine. Spinach, feta, tomatoes—the only one without any kind of meat.

Steps thundered down the stairs, and a moment later Adamo appeared in the living room. Without a greeting, he grabbed a piece of pizza, dropped down beside Savio, and began eating.

Remo shook his head but reached for a piece as well. They all shared pizzas, of course none of them touched mine. I gingerly picked up a slice then looked around for napkins that the delivery service usually packed but found none. “Do you have napkins?” I asked but got empty looks back.

“We have some in the bar, I believe,” Nino said. He was about to get up, but I beat him to it. I turned to head for the bar.

“She’s got a nice ass if she doesn’t hide it under her clothes,” Savio commented.

I stiffened but kept moving.

“Careful,” Nino murmured in a voice that made the little hairs in my neck rise.

“She isn’t one of our whores, Savio. She is Nino’s, and you better remember it the next time you open your fucking mouth,” Remo muttered.

“Fuck. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Savio said.

Relaxing, I found a handful of napkins next to a few dirty whisky glasses, picked them up, and headed back, hoping my cheeks weren’t red. Nino’s intent gaze traced my face as I sank down beside him. I put the napkins on the table then placed one on my lap before I grabbed my piece of pizza.

“Savio is sorry, you know? He’s just a stupid idiot,” Adamo said, catching my gaze across the table with a grin. I smiled back.

“Oh, shut up,” Savio said.

I met his gaze. His dark eyes held wariness but also curiosity. He still regarded me as an intruder. I understood it. And other than Remo, he showed it openly. It was one of the few things that reminded me that he was two years younger than me.

Taking another bite of pizza, I was glad when the attention shifted back to the cage fight on the television screen, which I was trying to ignore. I knew Leona had worked there for a while, and I wondered how she could stand the violence.

“Where’s Fabiano?” Adamo asked with a full mouth.

“With Leona,” Nino said simply.

Savio rolled his eyes. “Pussy-whipped.”

After my third piece, I was stuffed. More than half my pizza was left. The men had wolfed down every last morsel of their food, of course. “You can eat my pizza if you are still hungry,” I suggested.

Four heads turned my way.

“There’s nothing dead on it,” Savio said.

“We can change that in a heartbeat,” Nino said dryly.