Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles 4)

If Adamo needed the additional time, he could get it. In his current mental state, I was glad for anything that managed to distract him. The few conversations I’d had with him since he’d been freed stirred my worries. His anguish and rage were reminiscent of Remo’s early days. I didn’t think Adamo could deal with it the way my older brother had.

It might destroy Adamo.

Kiara was even more excited about Christmas than in the previous year, practically bouncing with joy as she decorated the entire house and baked for us. Greta and Nevio’s presence, while making her realize how badly she wanted children of her own, also kept her distracted. Those two were a lot of work, and Kiara gladly stepped in helping Serafina while Remo had to heal.

As Christmas rolled around, both Remo and Adamo were doing better, and most of their outward injuries had healed. We were sitting in the gaming room, discussing how to organize future races, having to get back to business despite events. Stefano insisted we keep his territory out of it in the next months while he tried to establish his rule. His men had suffered enough losses and another attack from the Outfit could demoralize them. He needed to appear strong if he wanted to convince his doubters and haters.

“I don’t like it,” Remo growled. “I don’t want Cavallaro to think he’s made an impact on us.”

Savio shrugged. “What do we care what the asshole thinks? He’ll pay soon enough for the shit he pulled.”

“He should pay now,” Adamo said, tracing the burn scars on his forearm.

“Revenge takes time. We need to figure out our next moves carefully and not go into this blindsided by fury.”

Remo glared at me, but knew I was right. He was pissed, more on Adamo’s behalf than his own—not to mention that he wouldn’t forgive the Outfit for treating his children as less because they were his.

“I agree with Nino,” Savio said firmly. “I’d rather hit him hard so he can’t get up ever again than aim for a quick hit.”

Remo leaned back with a sigh. It was ultimately his decision. Despite him being Capo, he often listened to what we had to say.

Serafina walked in with the twins on her arms. “Can you watch them?”

Remo sat up, looking at Serafina as he always did—with a hint of confusion and longing. I wasn’t sure if he was unsure about his own feelings or hers.

Serafina met my gaze. “Will you take Nevio?”

I stood at once and took him from her. Nevio grabbed for my tattoos again, eyes widening and mouth parting as if he was seeing them for the very first time. Serafina walked over to Remo and after my brother spoke softly to his daughter, he took Greta. Nothing about Remo was soft, not ever and I’d never heard him speak in that tone before. Savio and Adamo gave me questioning looks as I sat back down. Remo waved a rattle in front of Greta’s face as he joined us and sank down beside me. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at his daughter gave me a better understanding why Kiara wanted children so badly. It spoke of an altruistic, untainted love that was rare in our world.

“I suppose that’s the end of my whoring days in the house,” Savio grumbled.

Remo looked up from Greta, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want a fucking whore anywhere near my children.”

Greta cried at the harshness in his voice, and Remo’s lips tightened. He quickly managed to calm her again.

Nevio began to chew on my forefinger. Hr didn’t have any teeth yet so he couldn’t do any real damage. Greta eventually settled peacefully in the crook of Remo’s arm and watched everything with those big eyes.

Adamo gave her a small wave and she watched quietly while Nevio was trying to crawl off my lap. I let him discover the sofa, holding him by his waistband whenever he got too close to falling off.

“He’s going to be a little PIA, I can tell,” Savio said.

Remo’s mouth twitched as he watched his son try to take another nose-dive from the sofa. “I’ve had practice with PIAs raising you and Adamo.”

Savio grinned, leaning back against the sofa and stretching out his arms. “I’m sure I’ve been a delight.” He nodded toward Adamo who hunched forward beside him. “He’s got PIA written all over his forehead and MIA all over his crotch.”

“Fuck you,” Adamo said but he didn’t look as pissed as he’d done in the past. He hardly seemed to care about the jab. Remo sent me a meaningful look—of course he’d noticed it too. Adamo was growing up faster than expected.

“No reprimand for using fuck you in front of your precious offspring?”

Remo stroked Greta’s arm. “Growing up in this house, my kids will probably say fuck before anything else.”