Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles Book 5)

My niece Greta tiptoed into the gaming room, dressed in her white frilly nightgown, dragging her favorite stuffed rabbit behind, and I put down my phone, knowing sexting would have to wait until dollface was back up in her bed. The girl, whose name was either Sandra or Sarah, I couldn’t remember, was getting too clingy anyway, so this was just the distraction I needed.

“It’s bedtime.”

Greta headed for me, rubbing those big eyes before she stopped in front of me. “Can’t sleep.”

I leaned down. “Then you came down here? Why didn’t you go to your mom or dad?”

Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that Remo really had kids. Most of his life he’d spent hating women and now his daughter and wife had him wrapped around their fingers. “They sleep,” she whispered, peering up at me before she opened her tiny arms. “Want cuddles.”

Cuddles. I smiled wryly and picked her up. She snuggled against my chest like a cat and I wrapped my arms around her as she huddled on my lap. She was tiny for a two-year-old, and so sensitive and quiet that it brought out my protective side.

“Want to watch your favorite series?”

She gave a small nod and I picked up my laptop and searched for the series. When the video began playing, Greta leaned her head against my chest and curled her hand around my thumb. It was something she did often, holding on to our fingers as if she needed the additional touch to feel protected. She didn’t understand it yet, she couldn’t, but she was the safest girl in Las Vegas, probably in the States. Remo would burn down the world to protect Greta. Of course, Nino, Adamo, Fabiano, and I would be right by his side.

I peered down at her as she was transfixed by the animated rabbit and pig on the screen.

If anyone saw me like this, that would make the rounds. Savio Falcone cuddling with his niece and watching cartoons about nosy rabbits and know-it-all pigs. Greta didn’t release my finger, clutching it tightly in one hand while she held her stuffed rabbit in the other. I always found children annoying, and my nephew Nevio definitely had a talent to drive me up the wall, but fuck, they’d somehow weaseled their way into my fucking heart. And Greta, I doubted anyone who met her didn’t like her.

Sometimes when I looked at her cute face, I considered having kids myself in the distant future, then Nevio usually did something that made me want to get a vasectomy.

My phone beeped with a text from Mick. Party in my garage tomorrow. I got a hot reason to celebrate.

I picked up my phone, typing. Finally, gave a girl the big O?

Mick replied: Better.

If you say so. We both know you wouldn’t find a girl’s clit even if a neon arrow pointed straight at it.

Mick: Shut up. Just wait. Diego, you in?

Diego: Not sure.

Mick: Stop being a sore loser.

Diego: K

What’s up with you two fuckers?

Mick: Tomorrow.

Diego went offline.

I frowned. He never went offline. Greta’s body had become soft in my hold. She was fast asleep, her bunny clutched against her chest. Sighing, I stood and carried her upstairs into Remo’s wing where I ran across him.

Relief flickered on his face. “There she is.”

I handed his daughter over to him and he cradled her protectively in his arms. I already felt sorry for the poor idiot who’d ever want to date Greta. I’d still kill him, but I’d make it quicker than Remo. “She wanted to watch that annoying series and fell asleep.”

“Why are you pulling a face?” Remo asked.

“Do you know if anything’s up with Mick or Diego?”

“Nothing Camorra related,” Remo said. “Why?”

“They’re acting strange.”

Maybe they had the hots for the same girl. Diego had only recently dumped Dakota.

Mick and Diego were already lounging on the shabby sofa in Mick’s garage when I arrived. It still smelled of engine oil and exhaust, even though it hadn’t been used as a garage in years. I grinned at them and threw myself into the shabby old massage chair that had been my seat for a long time now—ever since the spring poking out of the worn-out leather couch had almost fucked my ass. Diego made a face as if he was sucking on a lemon. Mick, however, was grinning ear to ear.

“What’s up?”

Mick held out a can of beer, but I shook my head.

“Fight in three days. I want to stay sharp.” My opponent wasn’t my most difficult challenge yet, but he was a nasty piece of shit, who liked to play dirty.

Mike practically shoved the beer at me. “Come on.”

“Just spill the fucking beans.”

Diego glared, first at Mick, then at me. What the fuck was wrong with him? He looked as if I’d personally insulted him.

Mick beamed like a goddamn kid on Christmas morning. “I’ll get Gemma!”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?” My voice was low and threatening, which surprised me. Not as much as the burning ball of jealous rage that singed my insides. I didn’t do jealous. I didn’t care enough about any girl to give a fuck if she went off into the sunset with another guy.

Diego sneered. “It means my family and Mick’s family agreed that my sister will marry Mick once she turns eighteen. Remember how I told you that we were looking to arrange a marriage for Gemma? How she told you? How Dad told you?”

I finally took the beer from Mick, popped it open and took a large gulp. Daniele had mentioned that it was time to look for a husband for Gemma. She had mentioned it a few times as well. I’d thought it was her way to tease a reaction out of me, a little game to gauge my interest.

I was interested in her. Every guy with eyes in his head was interested in her if for one reason only.

Fuck. I burnt to possess her, but marriage wasn’t part of my life plan.

Mick looked between Diego and me, his grin falling. “Hey, I wanted to celebrate! What’s with you two? You should be happy for me. I got the girl of my dreams.”

“Congrats,” I gritted out even though I suddenly felt the need to stick my knife into his eyeball. I eyed the beer bottle. If I smashed it on the edge of the table and shoved the broken glass into his throat, I wouldn’t even have to pull my fucking knife.

I brought the bottle to my lips and emptied the beer in one gulp. Diego regarded me over his own bottle as if he too considered using the bottle to slice someone open, only in his case that someone was going to be me. He sneered at me again.

Maybe I’d kill him too if he didn’t stop looking at me like that.

Mick was babbling about going engagement ring shopping because the festivities were supposed to happen in a few months. At least, he was clever enough not to ask either Diego or me to join him.

“The hottest girl in Vegas is going to be my wife, can you believe it?”

Over my dead body, Michelangelo. I looked him up and down. He didn’t deserve Gemma, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t get her.

Diego grabbed another beer and emptied it in two large gulps before he leveled his scowl on me.

It wasn’t even midnight when I left. Mick was disappointed, but if you asked me, he could count himself lucky to be alive. I’d killed him in about two dozen different ways while he went on and on about his fucking engagement party.

“Don’t feel like celebrating, do you?” Diego said close behind me when I stopped at my car.

I turned, narrowing my eyes. “Neither did you.”

“I don’t like the idea of anyone getting into my sister’s panties.”

A new wave of insane fury raced through me. “Michel-fucking-angelo won’t get into Gem’s panties or anywhere near them.”

Diego’s expression made it clear that he’d taunted me to get exactly that reaction. I took a step closer to him. “You know Gemma doesn’t want to marry Mick. If he wasn’t so infatuated, he’d realize it too.”

“He was the best option. She needs to be promised at her age. Why do you even care, Savio? It’s not like you seemed to give a fuck when I told you we were looking for someone.”

“I do care now, and I tell you that Gemma won’t marry Mick, got it?”

Diego shook his head. “It’s too late. She needs to be promised, that’s just how it is. Unless you decide to marry after all?”

I scoffed and Diego’s expression darkened. “Then there’s nothing you can do, Savio. Whatever you want from Gemma, you can’t have it. Not unless there’s a ring with your name on her finger.”

I glared. A ring with my name. Marriage. Did I really want that?

He shrugged and turned to head toward his car. “I hope you’ll enjoy seeing the bloody sheets after Mick and Gemma’s wedding night.”

What the fuck? I advanced on him, grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the car. He didn’t even bother fighting me off, only grinned mirthlessly.

“I’m going to kill him before I’ll allow that to happen, Diego. If I have to, I’ll kill you, too.”

“Fuck you, Savio. You have to make a decision, and you better make it quick. Because once we’ve officially celebrated the engagement, there’s no going back. How much are you willing to do to get my sister?”

He shoved me away and got into his car, then drove off, giving me the finger.

How much was I willing to do for Gemma?

I’d cut a few of my goddamn fingers off to get my hands on her, but marriage? Damn. No matter the price, I’d pay it, only to be the first in Gemma’s panties.

I drove back home in record time, sending pebbles flying everywhere as I hit the brakes right in front of the entrance.

Lights came on in Nino’s wing. I stormed toward the front door, pushed it open then went in search of Remo. It was a few minutes past midnight, so I doubted he was in bed unless he fucked Serafina.

I found him in the common area, staring at his laptop. When he spotted me, his eyes narrowed, and he put the laptop aside. “I don’t like your expression.”

I stopped right in front of him, panting as if I’d run a marathon, but my racing pulse and throbbing heartbeat had nothing to do with physical exertion. “We have a problem.”

Remo leaned back, regarding me closely. “A ‘I have to kill someone problem’?”

I didn’t want to kill Mick, or Diego.

That wasn’t true. I wanted to kill Mick, but I shouldn’t, but I would kill him if we didn’t find another solution. “That’s something I’d like to avoid.”

I had Remo’s full attention now. Killing was his favorite pastime and I too enjoyed to spill our enemies’ blood. “Spill.”

“Gemma was promised to Mick. She’s supposed to marry him when she turns eighteen.”

The keen look disappeared at once and was replaced by annoyance. “I don’t see why that’s my concern. My men handle their family matters. I told them when I became Capo that I didn’t want to be involved in their fucking match-making. They don’t need my blessing to barter their children away.”

“It’s your concern because I want Gemma, and I don’t give a fuck what I’ll have to do to get her.”

Remo got up and tilted his head in contemplation. Remo managed to make you feel like an insect under the microscope when he regarded you like that. The worst thing was that he always saw more than you wanted him to see. It was his special skill, that and being a twisted, brutal fucker who loved to torture people. “Why didn’t Daniele arrange a marriage with you then, if you want her?”

“I didn’t say I wanted her. He mentioned he was looking for a husband for her, but…”

“But you didn’t want to cage your fucking bull in,” Remo said with a nod toward my groin. His twisted smile stirred the rage in my insides once more, but a fight with my brother was the last thing I needed.

“I thought I had time.”

“She’s sixteen, Savio. Don’t play dumb. You know that girls are often promised way before then, especially in traditional families like Gemma’s. That they waited this long is already unusual.”

I made a non-committal noise. I knew why they’d waited this long because they’d thought I might throw my hat in the ring. “I need to have her.”

“You need to have her so you can fuck her, boost your ego and then discard her. Or you need to have her—”

I interrupted him. “I want her as my wife. It’s the only way I can have her at all.”

Remo looked close to laughter, a far more unsettling sight than him covered in the bowels of his enemies. “You want to marry?”

Could he have sounded any more shocked?

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Remo walked past me and toward the liquor cabinet. “I think that requires alcohol.”

“Come on, stop being dramatic. If you can be a husband, it should be a piece of cake for me. A few years ago, you loathed the idea of marriage, now you’re making a marriage work as if it was nothing. You’re a father for fuck’s sake.”

Remo poured a generous amount of whiskey into two glasses then held one out to me. Rolling my eyes, I went over to him and accepted the drink. I could use some alcohol. Today’s news had been a shock to my system.

Nino appeared in the room, only dressed in underpants, regarding us with a suspicious expression. When it had been only my brothers and me in the mansion, most of us hadn’t even bothered with clothing. “What’s going on? You woke the boys and Kiara with your rude entry.”

Remo grabbed another glass, and filled that too. “You should have a drink.”

Nino accepted the glass. “What are we toasting?”

“That Savio wants to put his bull on a leash.”

I sent Remo a scathing look, which he answered with his twisted grin.

“What exactly does that mean?” Nino asked in mild curiosity.

“He wants to marry.”

“Gemma Bazzoli, I assume.”

I downed the rest of the whiskey, annoyed that my brothers could look through me as if I was a glass figurine. “You are a fucking know-it-all, aren’t you?”

“Did you ask for her hand?”

I grimaced. “No. Until recently, I didn’t really consider marriage a valid option.”

Nino regarded me as if I was a curious specimen worth studying. “And what changed?”

“She was promised to another man, Michelangelo.”

“Carlucci’s second son,” Nino stated. “And one of your best friends.”

That was true. Diego and Mick were pretty much my only friends, except for my brothers. Finding people that you could trust if your name was Falcone was close to impossible. “He won’t marry Gemma. I don’t care what I’ll have to do to make her mine.”

“The Carluccis and the Bazzolis are loyal families,” Nino drawled. “Offending them would come with a price. Our soldiers respect us because we’re just. If we force the Bazzoli girl into a marriage with you despite her engagement to Michelangelo, that could lead to dispute among our men.”

Remo nodded. Usually, he didn’t give a fuck about other people, but as cruel and twisted as he was, he took care of his men. “Nino’s got a point. We have to handle this carefully, or this could snowball into something very ugly, all because you were too horny to make up your mind in time.”

“Gemma wants to marry me, not Mick, that’s something you should keep in mind, and let’s be honest, her family will throw a fucking party if Gemma becomes a Falcone.”

“Are you sure the girl really still wants you? Maybe she’ll hold your man-whoring ways against you, not to mention that you didn’t bother asking for her hand when she wasn’t promised to another.”

I glared at my brothers. They always knew how to make me feel like a stupid boy again. “Gemma still wants me, believe me.”

“Be that as it may, we need to figure out a way to break her engagement to Michelangelo without causing discord.”

“Mick wants her. He won’t go quietly.”

“Challenge him,” Remo said. “During one of the public training sessions. Challenge him in a cage fight for Gemma’s hand. In front of fellow soldiers, he’d lose face if he didn’t agree to the fight. Make the girl be there as well. If he’s got the hots for her, he’ll try to impress her.”

I considered that. There was only one problem. “Mick knows he doesn’t stand a chance against me in a cage. I’ll wipe the floor with his sorry ass. Why would he agree to a fight he can only lose? He already has Gemma in the bag after all.”

“Tell him you’ll fight him a day after your big fight. You’ll be sore and tired fighting this close together. Have Diego and Daniele be there as well. Mick would be considered a coward if he didn’t accept your challenge.”

“All right. This sounds like it could actually work,” I said, smirking.

“Nothing to be smug about,” Remo growled. “Because of your fucking dickheadedness, we’ll have to offend a loyal family. That’s nothing that should happen again, so you better go through with this wedding once you’ve won the girl’s hand, or I’ll personally castrate you.”

“Don’t worry. Gemma will be mine.”