Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles 4)

Adamo glanced over his shoulder and rubbed his neck, considering my suggestion. He shook his head and gave a sheepish smile. “Nah, it’s fine.”

That didn’t look fine to me, but it wasn’t my business.

“I ordered sushi for lunch. If you come down, we can all eat together.”

“I’ll get dressed then come down.”

Tearing my eyes from the mess, I turned and headed to Savio’s wing. For some reason I was more nervous to enter his territory because I had a feeling he was more private than Adamo, and I was worried about the state his room would be in. If it was worse than Adamo’s place then I’d ask Nino to send pest control.

It wasn’t difficult to find Savio. The door to his room was open and he hung head-down from a bar he’d attached in the doorframe, doing crunches. He stopped mid-air when he noticed me, then finished two more reps before he gripped the bar and swung himself down. Like Adamo he was only wearing sweatpants. I really didn’t understand what it was with the Falcone brothers and their aversion to wearing shirts.

“Booty call?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he reached for a weight sack and squeezed it between his knees before he began doing pull-ups at the bar.

“You wish,” I said with a laugh, trying not to stare at all the display of nakedness and muscle.

“No, trust me, you wish.”

I shook my head at his arrogance. Relief filled me when I saw the room behind him was impeccably clean, and everything was white and beige—stylish.

“Are you looking for something?” Savio grunted out between pull-ups.

“I’m just relieved your room is cleaner than Adamo’s.”

Savio scoffed. “That’s not difficult. He lives in a fucking dump.”

I really couldn’t defend Adamo in this case.

“I got sushi for all of us.”

Savio dropped the weight and lowered himself to his feet, reaching for a towel on the ground. “What kind?”

“The kind you’ll like,” I said with a teasing smile.

Savio rolled his eyes. “That means only greens, right?”

I gave a small shrug, turned and headed back down. If they didn’t order their own food, they’d have to live with my vegetarian choices or starve.

When I entered the gaming room, Nino and Remo sat on the couch and I sank down beside Nino. Scanning the sushi boxes, I picked up one and set it off to the side.

“Are you trying to bribe Serafina with sushi so she’ll spill the beans?” Remo said. He was in a strange mood.

“Feeding her is not bribing.”

Adamo and Savio joined us in that moment, both still without shirts. I shook my head. They plopped down on the sofa across from us and reached for the chopsticks and boxes without a word.

“How about you leave the boxes in the middle so we can all share?” Remo snarled.

I chanced a glance at him.

“Considering that you got into the bitch’s pants, you’re in a shitty mood,” Savio said.

Remo’s face flashed with anger. “That’s the fucking last time you call her bitch, got it?”

Savio raised one eyebrow and even Adamo froze with his chopsticks against his lips. I looked at Nino who was frowning at his brother.

We’d all heard it. That was protectiveness in Remo’s voice.

“Come on, she earned the name,” Savio said.

Remo rose, his body shaking with barely restrained fury. What had gotten into him?

“What?” Savio said. “Now you want to hit me because of a woman? She’s your captive and the enemy—or did she get under your skin?”

Remo gave a twisted grin. “As if that’s ever going to happen. You just piss me off.” He sank back down as if he hadn’t been on the verge of attacking Savio a moment ago.

I snatched up an avocado maki and pushed it into my mouth while the men pounced on the California rolls and summer rolls. I kept sneaking at look at Remo, trying to figure out what had gotten into him, but attempting to glimpse behind his mask was bound to fail.

Nino and I settled at my piano in the afternoon to play together. It had become a ritual I enjoyed tremendously, and something we tried to incorporate into our daily routines.

Nino started playing a soft tune, barely audible, frowning in concentration. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was trying to focus on the music or make sense of his emotions. I leaned my head against his arm, listening to the melody he created. I loved listening to Nino, because his music always reflected the feelings he couldn’t understand or was unable to express. The music flowed louder, an uneven staccato. It filled my body, engulfed my heart, every fiber until my pulse sped up, living what the melody tried to convey. “Are you worried about Remo?” I whispered.

Nino regarded his fingers on the keys with a calculating expression, as if he didn’t trust them to show his true feelings. “Remo is too emotional. He lets whatever he feels consume him. He and Adamo are similar in that regard. Until now Remo mostly thrived on anger and hatred … whatever connects him to Serafina, it can’t persist and I worry that it’ll tip him over.”