Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles Book 5)

The next day, Dad joined Diego and me on our way to the gym. Apparently, Remo wanted to check the fitness level of his men and had invited several of them over to train with him and his brothers. It had happened before. Dad always said that Remo had made the Camorra strong by making his men strong and keeping them that way. The man despised laziness and weakness and expected his men to stay sharp and in shape.

I’d almost backed out. It wasn’t like I was required to be there, even if today was my usual training day. Deep down, I was scared of facing Savio after I’d been promised to Mick. I was worried about the feelings his presence would evoke in me and absolutely terrified of realizing that he couldn’t care less that I was promised to another man. Diego had mentioned that Savio knew about the upcoming engagement, but he hadn’t been forthcoming about anything else. That could only mean that Savio didn’t care that I was as good as engaged. Savio had so many girls at his disposal, all of them beautiful and not bound by restricting traditions, why would he waste a second thought on me?

Dad looked almost worried when we headed for the gym. “It’s been a while for me. I haven’t had much time to work out these last two months.”

“You’ll be fine, Dad,” Diego said, slanting me a concerned look when we walked into the gym. It was already filled with many soldiers Diego’s age but also a few men who were over forty like Dad. Over to the right, there was Mick with his father and older brother.

Mick still looked as if he was on cloud nine. I avoided looking directly at him. I simply couldn’t meet his eyes, because across the room, standing among his brothers was Savio, and he commanded my attention as usual. Tall, muscled, with his arms crossed in that casual way, and an air of absolute confidence. I tore my eyes away from him too. Seeing him hurt in a way I couldn’t explain—a pressure in my chest that increased with every passing moment.

I hurried toward the locker room, already regretting that I had come along. From this day onward, I wouldn’t work out with Savio. I couldn’t take his presence, not anymore. Stumbling into the sweat-soaked air of the locker room, I tried to breathe, but the pressure on my chest made that difficult. As the only girl, the men waited outside while I changed, which allowed me to brave my freak-out without prying eyes.

With shaking fingers, I fumbled with the buttons of my jeans, popping open one after the other. If only it were this easy to release the pressure in my chest. A knock sounded, startling me out of my breakdown.

Before I could shout a warning, the door swung open and Savio slipped in. His eyes slid down the length of my body, lingering on my open jeans and my plain white cotton panties peeking out. Horrified, I whirled around. “Savio! What are you doing here? Get out!” My cheeks throbbed with embarrassment, and worse: excitement, because the second it had taken me before I’d turned around, my eyes had memorized every detail of Savio’s body. I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of admiring the hard planes of his chest. As vain as Savio was, and he was one of the vainest guys I’d ever met, his muscles were the result of fighting, meant to make him invincible in the cage. They weren’t just pretty decoration.

“Calm down, Kitty. I only saw a tiny bit of your panties, nothing to get them in a bunch over.”

“I’m promised to Mick. I can’t be alone with you. That’s inappropriate,” I said, and my voice shook the slightest bit. I straightened my spine, but my muscles didn’t stop trembling. The image of the tips of horns had teased me from beneath Savio’s low sweatpants. That stupid tattoo would definitely haunt my dreams.

Silence fell between us, then warmth ghosted over my back—Savio standing so close that I could feel his presence everywhere. I swallowed. “You need to leave.”

Then why didn’t I sound like I wanted that?

“Won’t you face me?”

Bracing myself, I turned around to him, clutching my jeans.

Savio noticed and smiled in that annoying way.

Anger took hold of me at his audacity. Did he think he could pretend I wasn’t promised to another man? “Maybe you didn’t understand what I said. I’m promised to your friend Mick now. We’re going to marry. You can’t be alone with me.”

Savio tilted his head. “Tell me one thing, Kitty, and be honest, do you want to marry Mick?”

“We’re not having that discussion.” I shook my head, glaring. What did it matter? Was this some kind of game to him? “I’m promised to him, Savio. It doesn’t matter if I want to marry him or not. Once I turn eighteen, I’ll become his wife.”

“It matters to me.” He leaned down, bringing us impossibly close, his eyes piercing me with their intent. “Now answer my question, do you want to marry him?”

“I don’t know why you think you have any right to ask me this question, much less demand an answer from me. You are my brother’s friend, nothing else.”

Savio took another step closer, forcing me to back away or we would have touched. My calves hit the wooden bench, stopping me from retreating farther. I tensed and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Answer my question, Kitty, or I’ll make you, and I know you don’t want that.”

A shiver passed down my spine. That wasn’t the promise of pain or torture, that was the promise of something else that scared me even more in our current situation.

I brought my palms up against his chest and shoved hard, but Savio anticipated my move and didn’t as much as twitch. He grabbed my arms and pulled me against him, so my breasts, thankfully still covered by a bra and shirt, smacked against his very naked chest. I gasped. I’d never been this close to a man, unless you counted the few times during fight training, but then the moment had never lasted long.

“Stop,” I croaked. “Stop it now.”

“Just answer my question,” he said in a low voice that reminded me who he was. The Falcones had claimed power like an unstoppable force for a reason. You couldn’t resist their brutal charisma. Least of all, I. Savio’s charm was like a drug to my system.

“I don’t want to marry Mick, and you know that very well!” I pressed out and ripped away from his hold. “Now leave.”

Savio’s expression almost brought me to my knees. “You won’t marry Mick then. We both know who it is you really want to wed.”

I couldn’t believe him. “The guy I might have wanted didn’t care enough to ask for my hand, so now I’ll marry the guy who had the guts to marry me.”

“You won’t marry Mick. You will be mine.”

I blinked, stunned by the possessiveness in his voice, and momentarily worried that my mind was making this up. He’d never as much as hinted to being interested in me—at least not more than his usual interest in anything with breasts.

“It’s too late,” I said, sounding strong even as my heart broke. Why couldn’t he have shown this kind of desire for me before, when my father was looking for a husband? Now I was stuck with Mick.

He smirked. The smirk that made me want to hit him—and worse: kiss him. He leaned down. “Oh Kitty, I will own you, even if I have to shove my knife into his fucking heart.”

Own me? Even as indignation rose up in me, those words had another effect: they sent a surprising thrill through my body.

He turned and left the room. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Backing out of an engagement was bad taste, even if there hadn’t been an official engagement and I wasn’t wearing Mick’s ring yet. Even Savio was bound to our rules, wasn’t he?

I quickly changed into workout clothes, long sweatpants, and a T-shirt because Dad would throw a fit if I wore anything that showed too much skin, and headed out. My stomach was in knots as I found myself once more on the precipice of hope.

The moment I entered the gym, my eyes sought Savio. He gave me a smirk across the room, ignoring the way Diego was killing him with his gaze. I walked toward my brother and Dad.

Savio looked sure of himself, but I couldn’t see how he could possibly make this work. He glanced toward Remo who gave a small nod.

Savio cleared his throat, drawing the attention toward himself.

Dread crowded my stomach. Oh no, what was he going to do? Maybe he didn’t care about his reputation, but I did—and so did my family. What if he insinuated that I’d slept with him or stated it outright? That would force Mick to break off our bond at once, his family wouldn’t tolerate me. Everyone would believe it, no matter how traditional my upbringing. I wanted to marry Savio but not at this price, especially because this was all his fault. He should be the one to pay the price for the mess. His reputation definitely wouldn’t suffer if it made the rounds that he’d gotten me into bed. The list of his conquests was already embarrassingly long anyway.

“Daniele, it’s come to my attention that you intend to promise your daughter Gemma to Michelangelo.”

Technically, I was already promised, it wasn’t just planned, but I definitely wouldn’t voice my thoughts. Dad frowned, his worried gaze sliding from Savio to me. His eyes held questions. I knew what he was dreading: that I had ruined myself, that I’d let Savio have what my husband was supposed to be gifted. How could he even entertain the thought? He knew me.

“I hope you’ll reconsider your choice and give me the chance to fight for the right to your daughter’s hand.”

Fight for me?

Stunned silence descended on the room like a heavy drape. Heat shot into my head at the wave of attention heading my way. Mick looked as if someone had hit him over the head with a baseball bat. His face turned red, if from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t say. His father didn’t look as angry as I would have thought, but given his expression when he’d seen our modest house, he was probably glad for the chance to get rid of me.

“Fight for my daughter’s hand?” Dad voiced my confusion.

Savio nodded. “The Camorra is strong because we value true strength over descent. We reward ambition and strength because our Capo, my brother, abides by a rule that’s held true from beginning of time: the law of the strongest and survival of the fittest.”

His voice was firm and confident, his expression fierce. No hint of doubt or insecurity reflected in any part of Savio’s appearance. A Falcone through and through, and damn him, it had an effect on me—and on the rest of the people in attendance. Savio could capture an audience like his brother Remo.

Savio only looked at my father, not once at Mick, me or anyone else. He knew who he had to convince first. “I’d like to fight Michelangelo for Gemma. The winner of the cage fight will get her as his wife.”

This was barbaric and old-fashioned, but it sent my stomach into a riot.

“This is ridiculous!” Mick said.

Dad met my gaze and leaned down. “Is there something I should know, angelo mio? I’ve put a lot of trust in you when I allowed you to learn to fight. I hope you didn’t break it.”

My eyes widened. “Of course not, Dad.”

“I was always with her anyway,” Diego added, which wasn’t exactly true. There had been moments when Savio and I had been alone, never long periods of time, but probably enough to do the deed if my research was accurate.

“My first kiss is going to happen in church on my wedding day,” I said firmly.

Diego lowered his voice another notch. “You should agree to Savio’s suggestion, Dad.”

I could have hugged him, but I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible with everyone watching.

“Haven’t we moved on from street brawls and duels?” Mick’s brother butted in, even though their father remained silent. He was the ruling Captain, so his reaction was the one we had to worry about. And he was definitely in favor of letting this play out.

“What do you say, Daniele? Gemma is your daughter, and it’s your right to decide over her future.”

Dad looked at Remo. “What do you say, Capo?”

Remo shook his head. “This is for you to decide. I don’t get involved in family matters. But it is true what my brother said, I honor strength over anything else.” His harsh gaze settled on Mick who squirmed visibly under the force of it. “This is your chance to prove yourself to your fellow Camorrista and show my brother his place.”

“I would be open to the suggestion,” Dad said.

Giddiness spread in me. There was no way Mick could ever beat Savio. I’d seen Savio in the cage. I had fought with him. He couldn’t be beaten by anyone but his brothers.

Mick’s fists were curled at his side as Savio stalked toward him. “What do you say, Michelangelo?” The challenge in Savio’s voice caused Mick’s face to turn even redder.

“I think we should ask Gemma if she’s okay with being fought over like a trophy,” Mick said, seeking my gaze.

I froze. This wasn’t about him giving me a real choice. He hadn’t really cared about my opinion when he’d asked my father for my hand without consulting with me first. This was his attempt to save his pride.

Still, guilt filled me, knowing I had to crush his heart. No matter how much Savio’s self-assured smile made me want to make him pay, I wouldn’t give up the chance to become his wife. I could still make him suffer thoroughly once we were engaged and suffer he would for this ordeal. Everyone was watching, waiting, and I tore my eyes away from Mick and Savio to look at Dad, like a good daughter would do. “If my father is open for the suggestion, then I’ll follow his judgment.”

Gemma

I had to stifle a smile at Gemma’s played demureness. As if this wasn’t what she’d been praying for. I got it, though. She didn’t want to hurt Mick’s feelings. He looked butt hurt and pissed. Maybe I really should have had qualms doing this, but it was the only option, and he should be glad he got off this easy. Because I would have definitely killed him before watching him take Gemma into a room for their wedding night. If anyone popped that cherry, it was going to be me.

“Then it’s settled?” Remo asked with his usual impatience, one dark eyebrow raised at Mick. He still looked like he wanted to refuse this fight. However, with everyone watching and in front of his Capo, he would have lost his face.

He nodded, then sought his father’s gaze as if he was hoping the man would come to his aid, but he seemed content to let go of Gemma. That didn’t really come as a surprise. The Carlucci women threw more money out of the window for clothes than some European monarchs. Mick needed to marry someone who came with a wad of cash to fund his sisters’ and mother’s expensive taste.

A few of the men began sparring, but Mick cornered me before I could go talk to Daniele and Diego, and most importantly, to Gemma.

His skin was still flushed, and he looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. He was usually a chilled guy. Not much for conflict or violence unless absolutely required. “You are an asshole, Savio. Did you begrudge me getting a girl before you for once?”

“You would have never gotten her if I’d been in the play.”

“You could have asked for her hand, why didn’t you?”

“Are you telling me you aren’t man enough to face me in the cage, Michelangelo?” I asked quietly.

Mick and I had been friends for years, never as close as Diego and I, but losing his friendship wasn’t something I risked lightly. But fuck, Gemma was worth it.

“That’s not the point. I agreed, didn’t I? But you are playing dirty. As a Falcone, you know you have to win.”

“I’m not playing, Michelangelo. I’m going to beat you in a fair fight. The only reason why my name matters is because fighting runs in our blood, it’s ingrained in our nature. I don’t fear pain, or a brutal fight, never have, never will. Can you say the same?”

He scoffed.

“We both know she wants me, not you, Mick.”

He didn’t say anything ,only glared. It was the truth. He knew it as well as I did. I didn’t get how any man could be excited about marrying a woman who didn’t want him. The idea of spending my life with a wife who thought of something else while I fucked her made my skin crawl. “You could have asked me to back off and give her to you without a fight.”

I raised my eyebrows. “If you’d given her up that easily, you deserve her even less than I thought.” Not to mention that it would have cast a bad light on Gemma if Mick would have broken off the engagement. This way she’d look like a sought-after bachelorette—which she was despite her family’s dismal financial situation. Money wasn’t an issue though. I’d always choose protecting Gemma over saving Mick’s hide. He was a big boy. He could deal. His father would find someone else for him to marry soon enough and then he’d forget about this.

I walked past him, done with the conversation. This discussion would end once and for all in the cage in three days, and after that, the hottest girl in Vegas would be mine.

I approached Gemma, Diego, and Daniele. None of them appeared happy about the situation. “Your interest in my daughter comes as a surprise,” Daniele said, disapproving. “I hope you’re aware of the weight of your decision. This is about marriage.”

I smiled tightly. “I know what’s at stake, don’t worry.” My eyes found Gemma whose cheeks were still pink, but her expression was perfectly controlled.

“Can I have a word with Gemma?”

“No,” Diego snapped. “Not until you’ve won that fight. You can already start practicing patience. You’re going to need it until the wedding.”

“Of course.”

Gemma had been checking me out and she was curious about my bull tattoo. I doubted she’d make me wait until our wedding night to sink myself into her pussy. Diego and Daniele didn’t need to know that though.

She avoided looking at me. I had to stifle a smile at her embarrassment. I couldn’t wait to drive the demureness out of her. In the fighting ring she showed how she could kick ass, I wanted her to be this tough outside of it as well.

“You’re in a sickeningly good mood,” Remo said with a scowl when we settled at the dining room table that evening with the entire family. Only Adamo was still working for Luca in New York, hadn’t even come back for Kiara giving birth to Massimo, nor would he return to celebrate his own birthday with us in a few days.

“How did it go?” Serafina asked before I could say anything. Of course, Remo had told his wife about my plan.

“Are you really going to fight for Gemma’s hand?” Kiara asked wide-eyed while she rocked three-month-old Massimo against her chest. Nino was trying to feed Alessio. Serafina was cutting the spaghetti for Greta while Remo tried to stop Nevio from getting up to play.

Fuck. Only a few years ago, my brothers and I would have spent the evening with pizza, booze, and a few hookers for entertainment. Now hookers were banned from the mansion, even from my wing. Instead the little monsters started to outnumber us slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet already?” Serafina taunted me with a knowing expression. She might look like an angel with her blonde hair and fair skin, but she was far from angelic.

I smirked. “Even after winning the fight, that doesn’t mean I’ll have to marry Gemma soon. It only means I’m the one who’s getting her.”

“Her parents probably want her to marry once she turns eighteen,” Nino drawled.

That was in less than two years. Eighteen months to be exact and never going to happen. I heaped spaghetti on my plate, shaking my head. “I’m going to tell Daniele that I want to wait for Gemma to finish college before I marry her. That should give me at least three more years.”

Everyone stared at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“I doubt her family will allow her to go to college, considering it’s not common in traditional families,” Nino said.

“My word’s going to be law once we’re engaged. If I want my fiancée to go to college, then she’s going to go.”

Serafina’s brows shot up. “You want to wait five more years to get into a girl’s pants?”

I chuckled. “Nobody said anything about that. I want to wait with marriage, not with sex.”

“Sex!” Nevio shouted, flashing his little devil smile.

Remo narrowed his eyes at me. As if the kid was learning the bad words only from me. He used the words fuck and pussy more often than I did.

“She’s only sixteen,” Kiara said worriedly.

“I realize that,” I said, getting annoyed with their interrogation. “I didn’t say anything about getting into her pants right away. I can wait.”

“Really?” Serafina asked.

“There are enough other girls around who can keep me entertained.”

“Gemma will be ecstatic to hear that, I’m sure.” Serafina’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

It was a miracle that Remo hadn’t throttled his wife by now. She was a piece of work.

“Her upbringing has been traditional. Her family is one of the most traditional in the Camorra. If you coerce the girl to sleep with you before your wedding night, that will cause trouble I’m not in the fucking mood for, get it?” Remo said.

“Nobody has to know. It’s my and Gemma’s business what we do when we’re alone.”

Nino shook his head in disapproval. “You assume she wants to break with her traditions, but that might not be the case.”

“We’ll see.” They hadn’t seen how Gemma looked at me. Maybe her upbringing had been traditional, but her body still functioned like everyone else’s.

“I’m going to say this only once,” Remo said. “Once you win this fight, you’re going to marry that girl, and if you pop her cherry before the wedding night, you better make sure nobody finds out, or I’m going to castrate your bull. Got it?”

I flashed him a grin. His expression remained stone. “Don’t worry.”

“Pop cherry?” Nevio said to Greta, who smiled in return.

Serafina sighed and sent me another scathing look.

“It wasn’t me. You can blame your husband.”

“It’s a waste of time. You two do what you want anyway,” she said.

“That’s right.” And it would stay that way. No engagement or marriage would shackle me down. Gemma was too in love with me to control my life like Serafina and Kiara did with my brothers.