Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

I gave him a tense smile. He thought I’d returned for good, that I wouldn’t return to camp, to Adamo.

“Dad,” I began, pulling back.

Dad’s eyes tightened. “Your place is here, with your people, with your family.”

“I’m a grown-up, and grown-ups eventually move out and live their own life. You know that I never really felt like I belonged in our circles. I don’t want to schmooze the wives of oligarchs and politicians, or pretend I give a damn about the newest limited-edition bag from Louis Vuitton. I want to be free and do as I please. I don’t want to fulfill my role as a Pakhan’s daughter. I never did. You have Galina and the boys for that. You don’t need me.”

Dad took a step back, his shoulders stiffening. I could tell that he was hurt by my words. “I gave you all the freedom you need, more than any other girl in your position would ever be allowed. All I ask is for you to be loyal.”

My brows snapped together. “Of course, I’m loyal. That I want to spend the year as a race driver in Camorra territory doesn’t mean I’m not loyal to you. I love you Dad. I’d never betray you.”

“You want to be with the Falcone boy.”

“He’s not a boy,” I said. “And yes, I want to be with him. It’s not like we’re going to marry. We just enjoy spending time together.”

Dad stroked my cheek as if I were a delusional child. “This can’t work Dinara. You will be torn between two worlds, worlds that’ll never merge. I don’t want open war with Dante Cavallaro, but if I make peace with the Camorra, his arch-enemy, that’ll be the result. He’s acquired some very important political alleys these last few years and it’ll hurt my business if they start to turn their attention on me.”

“I’m not asking you to risk war with the Outfit, or to make peace with the Camorra. I’m not part of the Bratva, and if I stop doing our websites, then I won’t have any involvement with our business at all. There won’t be a risk of me revealing anything to Adamo, not even by accident. He and I don’t even discuss business details anyway.”

“Dinara, you are a Mikhailov and people will judge you as one. You lived a fantasy for a few months but now you have to face reality. A Mikhailov and a Falcone can’t be together. I can’t allow it.”

I took a step back. “You can’t or you won’t?”

Dad smiled joylessly. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is that you can’t see Adamo Falcone again.”

Anger rushed through my veins. “You’re asking me to stop seeing Adamo?”

“I’m not asking you. You won’t see him again and you won’t set foot on Camorra territory.”

“You can’t order me around like that. It’s my life. I always respect you but you need to respect me as well.”

Dad’s face became hard. “You can stop seeing him, or I’ll find a way to move him out of the picture in some other way. It’s up to you, but the end result will be the same. Adamo Falcone won’t be a part of your life.”

My mouth fell open. “Are you threatening to kill him?”

Dad perched on the edge of his desk, his business expression replacing the look he usually gave me. “I’ll do what’s necessary to protect all of us.” His voice didn’t leave room for an argument. For him the matter was settled and my opinion was irrelevant. This side of him wasn’t new to me, but usually I wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

I glared. “You aren’t protecting me by keeping me away from Adamo! I thought you wanted to see me happy but you’re obviously only concerned about business.”

“If open war breaks out in Chicago, everyone’s going to be at risk. You, Galina, the boys, my men. I have responsibility that goes beyond your infatuation with a boy you hardly know.”

I couldn’t believe his nerve. He didn’t know the first thing about Adamo and me. He’d never wanted to know and I’d been careful not to tell him too much. Why poke a beehive?“Adamo saved me. He gave me what I needed to forget the past. He brings me happiness in the present and he makes me excited for the future. Isn’t that more than a silly infatuation?” For the longest time, I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t in love with Adamo, had feared any kind of commitment, but now that I was past the point of denial, it made me all the more furious to have others question feelings I’d battled for months. “I’m not someone who allows emotions easily. You know me, Dad. If I tell you that I want to be with Adamo, then that means something.”

“Do you really think his family will allow him to be with you? Their traditions aren’t ours. They’ll never fully accept you, never trust you.”