Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

The moment Adamo’s car pulled into camp, I excused myself from Kate, the pit girl with the angel voice, who was a kickass cook as well, and headed toward him. My pulse picked up when Adamo got out. One look from him, and I knew Remo had told him enough. As expected, it had changed the way Adamo regarded me. I wasn’t only Dinara, Bratva princess and race driver. I was the poor girl from before.

I did a U-turn and stalked back to my car, not in the mood for that kind of confrontation.

I was angry, but beneath that, I was scared, scared of losing the connection Adamo and I had developed, our easy-going interactions. It was one of the reasons why I loved being part of the race camp. Nobody knew who I’d been before, what had happened. Back in Chicago, everyone did, and despite the years that had passed, it still often showed in the way they looked at me and treated me. How was I supposed to leave the past behind if even bystanders couldn’t do it?

I was so fucking scared of having people here look at me the same way, of Adamo looking at me that way. It was one of the reasons why Dima and I hadn’t worked out, why our relationship had been doomed from the very start. What had made him appear a safe choice for a relationship in the beginning had ultimately been the nail in our coffin.

Soon steps followed me, and my heart beat only faster.

I hated feeling scared. It reminded me of that girl Adamo now mistook me for. I never wanted to be her again.

“Dinara!” Adamo called and finally caught up with me at my car.

I whirled on him and stared into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, but at the same time so fucking scared of what that would be. Adamo touched my shoulder. Even that simple touch seemed more hesitant than any of our touches in the past.

Adamo watched me not saying a word. He didn’t have to. His eyes spoke a clear language—the tongue of pity. I hated nothing more than that. “So Remo told you everything?”

I’d given Adamo the ok, had given Remo the ok, but maybe a stupid part of me had hoped Adamo would let it rest. It was idiotic. Eventually he’d find out. It was inevitable if I wanted to move on with my plan.

Adamo ran a hand through his hair and glanced away. A myriad of emotions swam in his eyes. “Yeah, not everything but enough.”

He wasn’t telling the truth. There had been a moment of hesitation before he’d answered.

I shoved away from the car. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me to protect me.”

I was so tired of people doing it. I deserved the harsh truth, even if it crushed my heart.

Adamo pushed his hands into his pockets. His expression cranked up the compassion.

And I could not bear it. “What exactly did he say?” I seethed, so fucking angry but at the same time bursting with despair. All because of Adamo, of the way he might handle me in the future. I’d never felt anything similar with Dima, as if my heart might splinter.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course, it does!” I sneered. “Can you imagine how frustrating it is to be in the dark about something that concerns you so integrally? Because of the way you’re looking at me, I know you’re pretty shaken up about what Remo said. He’s maybe the only one who knows everything because he’s the one who handled everything back then. Even I don’t know everything, only the lies and halt-truth that my father, you and your brothers told me.”

I could feel the treacherous heaviness in the back of my throat, the prickling at the back of my eyeballs—harbingers of tears. Not going to happen. Crying was a sign of weakness I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.

The craving for relief swelled like the tide, unstoppable, slowly eating away at my resolve like the waves took over the sand. I fumbled for a cigarette, even though I hated the taste, the smell, the feel of the soggy paper in my mouth. I’d never be a smoker because I enjoyed it. But it was better than nothing, better than the alternative. I needed something to soothe my anxious mind, to silence the call of my dark craving.

Adamo came closer, his keen eyes scanning my shaking fingers. Maybe he knew the telltale signs. After all, he was intimate with dark cravings as well.

I steeled myself for his touch but his hands stayed lodged in his jeans. His dark eyes searched mine. Taking a deep drag, I turned my head away, giving him my profile. “I’m not lying,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Remo showed me a video of you and what happened.”