by Reilly, Cora
I wondered how he remembered that day, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask him. Remo stalked toward me, and I looked up into his face when he stopped right in front of me. “Why are you giving me that fucked-up look?” he growled, but for once there wasn’t only anger in his eyes ... there was apprehension.
I shook my head. “I wanted to thank you for saving Nino.”
Remo stiffened and something hard and dangerous curled in the depth of his eyes.
“Two nights ago,” I added, because self-preservation kicked in, but Remo knew that wasn’t what I’d been referring to.
Yet he stepped back and gave a tense shrug. “Someone had to snap him out of it.”
I took a step back as well.
“Oh, and Kiara, not a word about any of this to Savio and Adamo. They don’t need to know.”
About Nino’s breakdown. About the past. They didn’t remember, didn’t know, and keeping that truth from them was probably another way Remo protected them.
My eyes were closed as I listened to the music, my fingers gliding over the keys. Nothing brought me more serenity than creating melodies. It was an outlet for the chaos of emotions inside of me.
“You’re really good at it,” Remo said.
I jumped, my eyes flying open and settling on Remo. He stood in the doorway for a moment then walked toward me. As usual, my body tensed in his presence.
“Still?” he asked with a wry smile. He leaned against the piano, looking down on me with these impossibly dark, dangerous eyes. “Still terrified of me.”
I laughed. “Remo, is there a woman in Las Vegas or anywhere else who isn’t scared of you?”
His smile pulled wider. “There’s no man either.”
I sighed. My gaze flickered to the scar on his face, remembering the story Nino had told me, wondering how a man capable of unspeakable acts could have risked his life to save his brothers. Remo Falcone was a complete mystery to me.
Remo’s eyes narrowed, and he moved closer, leaning over me, one hand braced on the keys, causing the piano to release a high-pitched whine. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he growled. “What did Nino tell you?”
I swallowed. “Don’t come so close,” I said firmly.
Remo’s lips tightened dangerously, but he straightened his body, giving me more space. “I told you before and I will tell you again: You are Nino’s. You are safe.”
“I know,” I said. “But I can’t help my body’s reaction to you. Maybe it’ll fade.”
He shrugged. “He told you about our mother, didn’t he?”
There was a tone to his voice that made the little hairs on my neck rise. “He did.”
Remo gave a sharp nod. Then he warned in a low voice, “Some things need to stay buried. She is one of them. And Nino’s emotions probably too. I don’t know what you want from him, but for his sake and yours, don’t push him.”
Early the next day, Nino and I set out for our first hike together. I wasn’t overly fit, but having Nino to myself, surrounded by beautiful red stone formations, was too enticing. He took us back to the Red Canyon National park. He was quiet during the ride, focused on the street, but his eyes seemed to see beyond the road ahead.
He surprised me when he took my hand, resting both on my bare thigh. His warmth seeped into me, but that wasn’t why my chest felt warmer.
We parked our car and set off for the circular trail. Nino was dressed in a tight, white T-shirt and gym shorts, his hair falling into his eyes. He also carried a massive backpack with provisions. I had opted for shorts and a top. It was only seven o’clock, but the day would be hot.
Nino lightly touched my back. “Ready for your first hike?”
I smiled. “With you at my side, I can do anything.”
His expression softened. He nudged me closer and kissed me before he straightened and pointed at the trail. I was still taken aback by his show of affection. Not trying to analyze it, I fell into a stride beside Nino. He pointed out particularly beautiful stone formations. They glowed in different shades of red and orange.
Despite nature’s beauty, my gaze kept returning to Nino. He had been different since I’d told him I loved him. Did he feel pressured to simulate emotions more often? Was that why he had been acting off? But I couldn’t imagine that Nino yielded under pressure. Nino was strong, hardened. He was a Falcone.
Nino slowed his pace when he noticed I was having trouble keeping up. Eventually he chose a spot overlooking a valley of smaller stone formations, so we could take a break. We sat down on the ground, hip to hip, and Nino handed me a sandwich.
“And? Do you enjoy it?” he asked.
I tilted my head at him. “The hike or the sandwich?”
“Both would be optimum.”
I shook my head. “Optimum...” I put my chin down on his shoulder “...I bet in school the other kids hated how clever and proper you were.”
Nino’s eyebrows shot up. “I was not proper. And the kids hated me for many reasons.”
“But I doubt they ever teased you.”
“When Remo and I first started boarding school in England, the kids didn’t know who we were. We were supposed the blend in. I was two years ahead, same year as Remo. Many of the boys in my classes were taller. They tried taunting me at first.”
“That didn’t go over well.”
“A few of them had unfortunate incidents leading to hospital stays,” Nino said. “Most of them were Remo’s doing, but I got a few of them as well.”
“And you weren’t thrown out of school?”
“The teachers knew who we were,” Nino said with a dark smile.
I searched his face, trying to imagine how he had been as a child. Nino met my gaze, and something softer, warmer filled his eyes. He leaned forward, touched my hip, and claimed my mouth for a kiss. I kissed him back, and eventually we stretched out on the warm stone, Nino leaning over me, kissing me, stroking my waist and ribcage. He rolled us over until I was lying on top of him. His hands roamed over my back, but the sound of a twig breaking tore us apart and Nino sat up with me still on top of him. His eyes scanned our surroundings. Then he relaxed again. His lips left a soft trail along my cheek down to my throat. His gentleness, his loving gestures, they made my heart throb with love and despair.
He simulated love for me. Sometimes, I managed to forget. But whenever I remembered, the pain was acute and heartbreaking. I shoved that thought aside. Nino cupped my cheek again, angled my head until our mouths connected. The kiss was all consuming, and I let it pull me down, let Nino’s hands banish any logical thought. When he settled between my legs and claimed me, nothing else mattered but having Nino above me, inside of me, his mouth on mine, his gray eyes alight with desire and more ... I didn’t care if it was simulated or not.
Afterward, we got dressed and continued our hike. His expression was calm and serene as it scanned the landscape around us, as long as he wasn’t trying to simulate emotions. Was that how we would all be, calm and serene if we hadn’t been burdened with the ability to feel at birth?
Calm and serene. I wished I could be like that, but my thoughts and emotions were a whirlwind in my body, confusing and terrifying and completely foolish.
A few days later, Nino had gone to train for a fight with Fabiano, and I was left alone with Remo. It was the first time he was the one to guard me. Nino had mentioned that Remo would be leaving soon for a mission in Outfit territory, which was why he was busy with last minute preparations at home.
I found him in his favorite spot on the sofa, checking something on his tablet. He didn’t look up when I entered, and I watched him silently.
He raised his head, his expression hardening. “What now?” His voice was low, on the verge of angry.
“Why do you enjoy hurting women?” I whispered.
Remo narrowed his eyes. “I enjoy hurting people. I don’t differentiate if it’s a man or a woman.”
“And yet you punish women differently than men,” I said.
“Do I?
” he murmured, dark eyes burning into me. He put down his tablet and stood. “They get a choice. They can submit to torture or ...”
“Submit to another form of torture,” I said, growing angry. “You give them a choice between two forms of torture.”
He stalked toward me, but for once I didn’t back away. Almost three months in his presence gave me the necessary courage, that combined with the knowledge that Nino trusted Remo. “But one of them is far less painful than the other. It’s a choice. More than men get.”
I shuddered. “I can assure you that it was very painful for me.”
Remo regarded me a moment. He was close enough I could see the myriad of scars marring his upper body. He seldom wore shirts in the house. In the beginning, I thought it was to unsettle me even more—like Remo wasn’t unsettling enough on his own. “You were a child. Nobody touches children in my territory nor underage girls.”
“Don’t they bring more money?” I muttered.
“Of course. Most fuckers would pay a fortune to pop a girl’s cherry, but we don’t allow that kind of thing in our territory.”
“Why not? You allow sex slavery, don’t you? You have Romancers who seduce women, make them believe they are being loved and then turn them into whores.”
Remo sneered. Sometimes I wondered how a single person could harbor so much violence and hatred. “These women start working as whores because they want to please a man they should kill instead. If a woman allows a man to treat her like that, it’s as much her fault as it is his. They agree to sell their bodies because they think they are in love. That’s stupid, and they pay for their stupidity.”
“They want to help someone they love,” I said indignantly. “Your Romancers make them believe they are indebted to the Camorra, and then the women take over the debt and have to work it off as whores. That’s horrible.”
Remo took another step closer to me, but I still didn’t back off. “If women act as the weaker sex, they will be treated that way. Why don’t these idiotic women tell my Romancers to go fuck themselves?”
“You will never understand because you’ve never loved someone.”
Remo smiled wryly. “Loving someone who doesn’t love you back is the biggest kind of stupidity I can imagine.”
I flinched, because this hit too close to home, and because I knew he was right. Realization filled Remo’s face and my insides twisted. Now he knew I loved Nino. I turned to leave, but he grasped my wrist.
“Let me go.”
For once, he didn’t. Instead, he drew me back so I had to face him. I glared up at his cruel, dark eyes. He shook his head, and I waited for him to taunt me. “He can’t feel.”
“I know,” I muttered, tugging at his hold, but his fingers tightened around my wrist. Finally, my anger and despair bubbled over. “Do you think I don’t know that? But I can’t change how I feel! Don’t you think I would change it if I could? But love doesn’t work that way. You will never understand.”
“You are right,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t and I won’t. Why would I want to be a fucking fool?”
“I hope one day you will find someone you want so much it burns you up inside, and then we’ll talk when she doesn’t return your feelings.”
Remo backed me against the wall, his expression hard and cruel. “That will never happen. And I’ve burned before, Kiara. I can brave flames and torture. I’m not weak like you.”
“I’m not weak.” I wrenched my wrist out of his grip and shoved him hard. He took a deliberate step back, staring down at my hands still pressed against his chest. I dropped them quickly, shock filling me.
Remo raised his gaze, and I tensed, worried about his anger, but he was smirking. “Finally, you didn’t let your fucking fear win.”
I blinked at him, but he stepped back and turned around, heading toward the door, but before he reached it, he stopped and looked at me over his shoulder, his eyes hard. “Oh and, Kiara, you will never speak to me like that again. I am your Capo. Understood?”
I gave stunned nod and watched as he left.
NINO
Fabiano aimed a kick at my head. I dodged it a bit too late, and he lightly grazed my chin.
Surprise crossed over his face, which I used to land two hard punches against his lower back. He gasped but quickly recovered and got in a hit of his own.
He tilted his head. “What’s up with you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, grabbing the towel I’d thrown over the rope. I wiped my face and chest.
“You have been ... less focused today. And it was the same during your fight.”
I leaned against the post in the corner. My current state wasn’t something I wanted to discuss until I had a better handle on things and had a chance to thoroughly analyze my predicament. “You don’t like the idea with Cavallaro’s niece.”
Fabiano narrowed his eyes, obviously dissatisfied with the topic change. “Do you really think Remo’s plan is good?”
Remo’s plan was emotional, fueled by revenge and hate. It was dangerous but it could prove to be effective. I regarded Fabiano. “You know the girl. You feel pity for her?”
He grimaced. “You know me, Nino. I will follow Remo through hellfire, but unlike you, I still have a couple of emotions.”
“Before Leona, you convinced everyone that wasn’t the case.”
“Before Leona, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t capable of emotions,” he said, then narrowed his eyes as if catching himself.
“Remo’s plan will create upheaval in the Outfit. Cavallaro’s sister will be devastated that her daughter got caught by us, and Dante will feel responsible for his niece. His wife will be worried as well because of their own daughter. This might be one of the times Dante forgoes logic and acts. If that happens, we can beat him.”
“Probably. Because no matter what, we can always count on you to be the voice of logic, Nino.”
I gave a tense nod. Indifference and logical analyzing had guided me through my life, had saved mine and Remo’s life on many occasions when his temper had gotten the better of him. But when I was around Kiara, logic was difficult to hold on to. Since the night she told me she loved me, something had shifted. It had started as a small crack but had continuously widened, and I had no way of stopping it. “Are you sure you will be able to do what must be done once you’re in Chicago? You won’t get distracted by thoughts of your father?”
Hate flashed across Fabiano’s face. “I’ve waited a long time. I can wait a few more weeks or months. You don’t have to worry. I will stand by Remo no matter how insane his plan is. I doubt it’s only motivated by strategic motivations.”
“Remo’s plans never are. He wants to play with Dante, wants to tear the Outfit apart from the inside. Remo is the best at mind games.”
“Yeah. Remo knows how to fuck with people’s brain,” Fabiano said with a dark laugh.
He did, and Cavallaro and Scuderi would soon realize their mistake of fucking with the Camorra.
CHAPTER 24
KIARA
Nothing brought me as much comfort as playing Nino’s song, which was ironic considering it filled me with a crushing longing and wistfulness at the same time.
When my fingers got to the part where I came to the realization of my feelings, the melody turned low and dark, as if the piano was reluctant to play the notes, like I had been reluctant to admit my feelings to myself.
Nino stepped in and regarded me silently for a while. I didn’t glance up from the piano keys, playing the song to the end, shivering as the low notes faded away.
“What does it mean?” Nino murmured. “Since you started the song, it has evolved more and more.”
I raised my eyes to his. “It’s the story of my feelings for you,” I admitted. “How I came to accept that I love you and that you can never love me back.” As usual, my throat tightened at my admittance.
Nino’s expression softened ever so slightly and warmth filled his gray eyes, and today I could not t
ake it. This simulated emotion, no matter how good he was at it, would never be enough. I knew it, deep down. “Stop it,” I whispered harshly.
His eyes narrowed, and he moved closer, his motions graceful as always. And I resented even that. He could be so beautiful and intelligent and powerful, but he could never be the one thing I longed for: emotional.
I glared up into his beautifully cold face. “You are too good at this. Too good at simulating affection, at pretending that you care for me. So good, sometimes, I almost believe you could really love me, Nino.” Tears welled in my eyes.
Weak. A fucking fool. What else had Remo called me? He had been right in every regard.
Nino braced himself on the piano, staring down at me. “Maybe I don’t have to simulate,” he said in that smooth voice. “Maybe I love you.”
This was the last straw. I could not take anymore. I jumped up from the bench, wishing he could understand how it tore me apart knowing that I loved someone who could never grasp what it meant to look at another and feel like you would shatter if that person was taken from you.
I gripped the front of his shirt, turning toward my anger. “Don’t lie to me. I told you not to say those words to me if you didn’t mean them. So just don’t.”
I released his shirt, stunned by the look in his eyes. It seemed as if they were burning with emotion. How good was he at faking this?
Swallowing thickly, I whirled around, needing to get away before I allowed myself to become trapped in this horrid simulation again. A clear, low note rang out when I was halfway up the stairs, and I froze, listening to the melody unfolding. It was a beautiful melody, every note complimenting the other. It was well composed but lacked emotion. It was a melody a computer might have created because it was just a bunch of notes strung together to please the average ear. You could listen to it over casual dinner with strangers because it never got your pulse rate up, never tore at your heartstrings or filled your body with sweet longing. Never made you want to cry from the sheer force of emotion it carried.