Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles 5)

“How did you allow yourself to trust her?” How could you?

“It happened. She saved me when she should have killed me. She forgave me for destroying the life she’d grown up in. She betrayed her family for me.”

I laughed darkly. “None of these things is going to happen with Gemma, so…”

He narrowed his eyes. “If Gemma wasn’t trustworthy, she wouldn’t be allowed to live among us, among my children, Nino’s sons, Fabiano’s daughter. I’d never risk either of their lives only so you can get a taste of virgin pussy. So you better tell me now that you think she’s deserving of our trust, of your trust.”

Leave it to Remo to deliver a threat that made me feel better. “She is trustworthy, don’t worry. Gem has a heart of gold.” Repeating the words her mother had said to me, I knew they were true, which made me feel like an even bigger asshole because she deserved better than me.

“Then what’s the problem?”

I gave him an ironic smile. As if he didn’t know. “Me. The problem is me.”

After my talk with Remo, I returned to my wing. Two emotional conversations were the maximum of what I could take. I froze in the dark of the bedroom, hearing whimpers.

Within a second, I was beside Gemma, feeling her shake, imprisoned by a nightmare. I cupped her head. “Gem, wake up.”

She whimpered again, thrashing as if she was fighting to free herself. I knew that sensation, which was why I preferred to fall into bed drunk or exhausted from partying. It seemed to keep the memories at bay.

“Gem,” I said with more force.

She jerked and sucked in her breath. Her hand came up, touching my stubbled cheek. “Savio?” she asked shakily.

“I’m here. You had a nightmare.”

She pressed her face against my throat and began to cry. I wrapped my arms more tightly around her. “I saw them die again. Both of them. Even though I didn’t see how Dad died, my mind replays the images as if I saw… I want it to stop.”

“It’ll get better with time.”

It was my way to allow her to peel away a layer without saying too much. For a moment, Gemma froze, then she nodded.

As usual, I woke before sunrise. I had my arm wrapped around Gemma from behind, my morning rod prodding her firm ass. Groaning, I rolled over, peering down at the tent in the covers. I sat up and got out of bed.

Gemma shifted then turned around. Her hair curled wildly around her head and her eyes were still half-closed. “What are you doing?”

Her voice was an octave deeper after waking up, the fucking sexiest sound in the world. “Getting up. It’s almost six.”

She blinked. “Almost six.” She pushed into a sitting position, looking confused. “Does something happen at six?”

I chuckled. “No, I always get up at six, if possible, to work out.”

She stared. “You do?”

I grabbed gym shorts and pulled down my sweats to change into them.

A pillow landed in my face. “Savio, when will you stop showing me your thing?”

Her cheeks were red and she looked wide-awake.

“Make that a big fat never, Kitty. You are my wife. It’s a hard-earned privilege to see my dick, so you should appreciate it.”

Pulling the shorts over my hard cock proved tricky and required some shoving and shifting. Gemma let out a choked laugh and slid out of bed as well. Suddenly, she looked shy. “Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

I hoped she wouldn’t want to use training to talk. I wasn’t awake enough for that. She smiled and headed into the walk-in closet. When she emerged, she was dressed in a sports bra and tight leggings. I rearranged my cock again, earning rolled eyes from her.

“Come on,” I said. She came toward me then hesitated as if she wasn’t sure how to act. I grabbed her hand, linking our fingers. I didn’t have problems with physical closeness, so I could give her that, at least. We walked down to the first floor in silence then into my home gym. I’d had a wall between rooms removed to have more space for all the equipment. Bench press, barbells, pull-up bar, and everything else I needed for my weightlifting routine.

“Wow,” Gemma breathed, taking in the room. Then her gaze settled on the mirrored wall. “Of course, you’d want to see yourself, Mr. Vanity.”

I grinned. “It’s not about vanity, it’s about form. I need to check on my posture.”

She slipped away from me and checked out the weights and kettlebells. Then her eyes darted to the pull-up bar. “How many can you do in a row?”

I shrugged, joining her. “Fifty in a minute.”

Gemma shook her head, her eyes gliding down my upper body. I took her hand and pressed it to my abs. Biting her lip, she slid her fingertips over the bumps of my eight-pack. “A six-pack just wasn’t enough, was it?” she said, her voice adorably nervous.