Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

“Maybe,” she agreed.

“Fabiano was a good boy once. Goldilocks with remorse and a squeaky clean white shirt, but now he’s my Enforcer.”

Fabiano snorted. “I was never good and definitely not goldilocks.”

“I should get dinner ready. Can you help me with the mustard jar in the kitchen? I can’t open it,” Kiara said.

I nodded toward Fabiano. “He can help you.”

Kiara shifted nervously, her eyes sliding to Fabiano then back to me. My eyebrows shot up. I got to my feet.

Fabiano gave a small shrug. “Leona will be here in five minutes.”

I followed Kiara into the kitchen and took the mustard jar she held out to me. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day that someone was less scared of me than of Fabiano or anyone else for that matter.”

Kiara flushed. “I know I’m safe with you,” she said quietly.

Fuck, she was. I held out the open jar. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re safe around Fabiano as well,” I told her.

“I know,” she said. “But it takes a bit longer for the message to get through to my brain.”

“You should be wary of a brain that makes you love my brother and trust me, Kiara,” I muttered.

She laughed. “It’s not my brain, it’s my heart.”

I narrowed my eyes then turned on my heel and walked out, not in the mood for emotional nonsense.

CHAPTER 9

SERAFINA

I wasn’t sure if it was Remo’s plan to break me by letting me stew with my own thoughts all day. I had nothing to do except relive this afternoon’s kiss, torn between guilt and a flicker of terrifying excitement, because that kiss had been unlike anything I’d ever felt before. And every time that realization hit me, my guilt doubled. I knew I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it—not only because Danilo was the man I was supposed to be kissing, but also because Remo was the last man I was allowed to kiss.

Whenever Samuel had returned from a night out with friends while I was stuck at home, I’d be overwhelmed by a wave of longing and jealousy. I wanted to be free to party with him, but that would have been my ruin—even if Samuel had been at my side to protect my honor. I couldn’t be seen in a club, dancing the night away. We’d had a few secret house parties, which had been exhilarating even if Samuel had been glued to my side every second so none of his friends got near me. Not that any of them would have dared. They were all Made Men or on their way to becoming one. My father was Underboss. My uncle was the boss of the Outfit. My fiancé as good as the underboss of Indianapolis and my brother a Made Man. No guy ever looked at me twice, at least not the guys allowed near me. I could have been naked and thrown myself at these guys and they wouldn’t have batted an eye … from fear of losing it—and their life.

And I had been okay with it, had accepted it because we were bound by the rules of our world. It wasn’t as if I wanted to sleep around like Samuel, even if the few stories he’d shared with me in the beginning when he was overexcited about losing his virginity had made me curious.

The lock clicked and I quickly sat up, bracing myself. I wouldn’t allow Remo to catch me by surprise again.

My eyes widened when Fabiano stepped inside, carrying a plate. I stood. Why was he here? Would he help me after all?

Fabiano regarded my face then shook his head as if he could read my mind. “I’m bringing you dinner.”

He came in but left the door ajar, and I wondered why he did it. I doubted it was so I could run. Was he worried of being alone in a room with me?

“Here,” he held out the plate with steaming mac and cheese to me.

I glared. “Do you remember how you, Samuel and I played together? Do you remember how you and him pretended to be my protectors? Do you remember that?” For a moment we did nothing but stare at each other, but he didn’t allow me to glimpse behind his emotionless mask.

With a sigh, he walked past me and put the plate down on my nightstand.

“You should eat,” he said firmly.

I whirled around to face him. “Why? So I stay healthy just so Remo can break me?”

Fabiano glanced down at my arm and grabbed it, inspecting the wound closely. “That’s Remo’s doing?”

“Who else enjoys slicing up people?”

Fabiano’s mouth switched into a wry smile. “Pretty much every man in the mob, Fina.”

He touched the wound lightly. “It’s not deep.”

“I’m sorry that my wound doesn’t fulfill your high standards. Next time maybe you should cut me.”

Fabiano shook his head. “Remo cuts deep. Hits hard. Kills brutally. He doesn’t do half-assed cuts like this.”