Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

“No,” “Mom,” and “Dad” were the only words that Nevio had mastered so far.

“No!” Nevio bellowed.

I laughed.

Remo shook his head. “Nevio, that’s enough.”

Nevio frowned, his lips turning into a pout. “No?”

Remo’s mouth twitched.

“If you’re being quiet, I’ll set you back down,” I said. Nevio regarded me, then Remo, obviously unsure if our offer was worth it.

Greta crawled closer to Remo, and he looked back down to her. She pressed her hands to his legs and slowly pushed up, her butt raised, then she stumbled to her feet. Remo reached out, and she curled her tiny hand around his index finger and Remo’s other fingers covered hers, steadying her, and my eyes began to water.

“Good,” Remo encouraged.

She looked at him, surprised, and still a bit unsure.

She took a hesitant step, and he smiled. “Very good, mia cara.” Her smile widened and she took a few uncoordinated, shaky steps and stumbled into him. He became still as she clung to his shirt and finger, peering up at him with absolute trust.

I set Nevio down because I could tell he wanted to join them. The second his tiny feet hit the ground, he wobbled toward Greta and his dad. Remo wrapped an arm around him as well.

Greta released Remo’s shirt and made the grabby motion when she wanted to be picked up. She still preferred to be carried. Remo put one hand under her backside while the other steadied her back and pressed her to his chest. He held out his hand to Nevio. “Arm?”

Nevio nodded for once, and Remo bent down to lift him up as well. He straightened with a kid on each hip and pressed a kiss to the top of their heads. His eyes found mine, and I didn’t care that he saw my tears. Today I gladly gave them to him.

Remo was beyond redemption in the eyes of so many.

He was the cruelest man I knew.

But with every atom in my body, I knew that he would never hurt our children. He would protect them. They were Falcones. They were his. Ours.

We would both die for them, for each other.

Tomorrow I’d officially become a Falcone, and so would my kids. I knew we’d all carry the name with pride.

CHAPTER 33

SERAFINA

The wedding was scheduled for late afternoon. I chose a Boho-style dress without pearls or a bodice. The top was knitted with a V-neckline, and the skirt flowed freely around my body, touching the ground in soft waves. My hair was down and fell in untamed curls around my shoulders.

I allowed myself another moment to regard my reflection. This day felt so very different to my last wedding day. Back then I’d been scared of the unknown but determined to do what was expected of me, content to marry a man I hardly knew and definitely wasn’t in love with. Today I was absolutely certain of my love for my future husband. Remo held my heart in an iron grip, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Love can bloom in the darkest place, and ours did wildly, freely, untamable.

I hadn’t thought it possible to feel that way for someone; occasionally I’d dreamed of it or foolishly hoped for it, but I knew it to be a rare gift in our circles.

I left our bedroom and walked through the silent hallways of the mansion, a place that had become my home and a safe haven for Greta and Nevio. Falcone. A name we all would carry with pride. A name that our kids would always be able to speak with their heads held high.

Adamo waited for me in the game room and smiled when he spotted me. The French windows were open and a gentle breeze carried in, warm and soothing. Adamo was dressed in slacks and a white shirt and had gotten a haircut to tame his wild curls for the occasion. Tears sprang into my eyes, and my chest constricted painfully. This was supposed to be Samuel. I wanted him at my side in one of the most important moments of my life. He was meant to walk me down the aisle. It had always been meant to be him, but he wasn’t here.

Adamo extended his hand and I put mine in it. He squeezed. “One day your family will understand. One day there will be peace.”

I peered up at him, at his kind smile and warm eyes, then lowered my gaze to the burn mark on his forearm, on the healed cuts. Occasionally, I still saw the haunted look in his eyes and I wondered if he hid the worst of his struggle from us. He was barely home anymore. So much pain and suffering in the name of revenge and honor. “You want peace after what my family did to you?”

“You’re going to marry the man who kidnapped you.”