Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles Book 2)

by Cora Reilly

  I bent over her and picked her up. She tensed and made a small sound in the back of her throat but didn’t react otherwise. I hoisted her up on the marble surface of the sink.

  “Kiara, look at me,” I ordered firmly, and she raised her eyes to meet mine. She wasn’t as far gone as on our wedding night, but I wasn’t sure what had caused her episode. The sight of my brothers banging their whores, the blood on her legs, or a combination of the two.

  “I need to take a look at your wound.”

  She blinked at me then gave a small nod, but I wasn’t sure if she’d really registered what I said. Her dark curls stuck to her sweaty forehead. I reached into the drawer and took out a first-aid kit then grabbed a washcloth, soaked it with cold water, and wiped Kiara’s face with it. She shuddered, but her gaze became more focused. I dropped the washcloth and reached for the hem of her nightgown. She seized up and her breathing changed. Fear.

  I searched her face. She was watching me with wide eyes, her chest rising and falling fast. She didn’t stop me, however. I pushed the fabric up until it bunched around her pelvis. I could see the top of a glass shard, but with her legs closed together, I couldn’t get a good look. I put my hands on her knees and pressed. She resisted. I could have parted them, but that seemed an unwise choice given her past.

  “Kiara,” I said firmly, “I need to take a look at this.”

  Her leg muscles softened under my palms, and I could finally push her legs apart, revealing white lace panties and a shard protruding from the sensitive skin on her upper inner thigh. “Lean back a bit.” She did and I propped her injured leg to the side, opening her up.

  She sucked in her breath.

  “Relax. I’ll take care of your wound, that’s all, Kiara.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  I disinfected my hands. The shard wasn’t in very deep from the look of it, but I’d have to feel it to make sure. “This might hurt a bit,” I warned before I felt the area around the shard with my fingertips. She flinched violently, whimpering. I glanced up and saw tears welling in her eyes.

  She was very sensitive to pain. I mostly dealt with my brothers or Fabiano when treating wounds, so I hadn’t taken her reaction into consideration. We didn’t have any numbing spray, and Tylenol wouldn’t help with the immediate pain.

  “Kiara, I need to remove the shard. It will be painful. I’ll do it quickly.” I didn’t tell her yet that I would still have to stitch up the wound. More bad news after the initial injury.

  She swallowed then gave a small nod. I grabbed the edge of the shard with my fingers and curled my free hand around Kiara’s hip to steady her, pressing between her legs so she wouldn’t be able to jerk them closed. Her breathing hitched, but I didn’t give her time to worry. I wrenched the shard out in one sharp movement.

  She cried out, jerking violently in my hold. She dipped forward and rested her forehead against my chest, panting, still trembling. I brushed my thumb over her side. “This was the worst,” I said. She didn’t react. “Kiara, you need to lean back so I can take a look at your wound now.”

  Slowly, she straightened. Her face was pale and tears trailed down her cheeks. I dropped the shard in the sink and crouched down before Kiara to get a better look at the cut. It had started bleeding again because the shard was removed. As expected, it wasn’t very deep. I cleaned it carefully, ignoring Kiara’s flinching. I wasn’t sure if it was from pain or from fear because my fingers had to work close to where she felt most vulnerable. When I reached for the needle to stitch her up, she exhaled sharply.

  I looked up at her. “Have you ever been stitched up?”

  She shook her head.

  It was going to be very uncomfortable for her. There really was no preventing it. The wound needed stitches, and I couldn’t take her to a hospital or call one of the Camorra’s doctors. The former because we didn’t involve outsiders and the latter because I didn’t trust these men to do a better job than I could. I considered her wound again. Five stitches would do and I’d be quick.

  Kiara whimpered but otherwise didn’t make a sound when I worked the needle into her flesh. Her thigh muscles quaked under the needle, and I pressed my palm over them so the motion wouldn’t ruin my stitch work.

  “Done,” I said eventually and straightened out before washing my hands. Then I took a new washcloth and wiped the excess blood off Kiara’s legs.

  Kiara was still very quiet. I nudged her chin up so she had to meet my gaze. “What happened?”

  Her eyes flitted away.

  “You walked in on my brothers having sex.” Especially Remo. Kiara didn’t need to see him in action.

  She exhaled.

  “It brought back memories?”

  “Yeah,” she murmured.

  “I will have a talk with them to keep their activities to their parts of the house from now on,” I told her. Remo wouldn’t like that one fucking bit, nor would Savio, but Remo was the one I needed to convince.

  “Where were you?” she asked in a soft voice.

  I evaluated her expression, but her eyes were downcast and it was obvious she was trying to keep her face impassive. “We agreed that I seek pleasure elsewhere, Kiara. Or did you change your mind?” She didn’t appear like she’d be ready to submit to me in bed yet.

  “No,” she said quietly, but I noticed the hesitation.

  “But?”

  “No but,” she said more firmly.

  “Okay.” It was obvious something was still bothering her, but she wasn’t willing to share. I handed her two Tylenol, which she popped into her mouth. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  I lifted her down from the counter and led her into the bedroom. She was still a bit unsteady on her legs. She climbed under the covers and lay down. “Won’t you join me?”

  I paused. I’d intended to return to the whore I’d fucked before Savio had interrupted me, but something in Kiara’s eyes made me slip under the covers with her. The whore would eventually realize I wasn’t going to return. Maybe Savio or Remo had use for her. I couldn’t grasp Kiara’s reasons for wanting me to stay. She lay on her back but with her head tilted toward me. I shut off the lights.

  “Can you tell me something about yourself I don’t know yet?” came her soft voice out of the dark.

  “What do you know about me?”

  There was silence for a moment. “I know your father was Capo before Remo took over. I know you and your brothers lived in England for a while but returned to the States to get your territory back after your father was killed by his Enforcer, Growl. I know you are a genius.”

  Those were the basics. It was difficult to decide what kind of information to divulge at this point. “I speak five languages fluently. Russian, Italian, English, Spanish, and French.”

  “Let me guess,” she said. “Russian and Spanish so you can better deal with the Bratva and the Cartel.”

  “That’s true. It makes little sense to torture someone for information if you don’t understand what they’re saying. That negates the purpose.”

  Kiara let out a small noise, but I couldn’t tell if it was a stifled laugh or a huff.

  “Why French?”

  “Because of the Corsican Union in Canada. They haven’t been involved in our business so far, but it’s good to be prepared. Their territory is close to Dante’s. He might seek their support.”

  “Is there anything you do that doesn’t serve a purpose or is illogical? Something you do because you enjoy it?”

  “There are plenty of things. Sex, for one.” I didn’t have to see Kiara to know she’d stiffened again. “Though one might argue it serves the purpose of relaxing me. Maybe hiking and climbing.”

  “I’d like to go hiking one day,” she said.

  “There are a few smaller canyons around Vegas that are good for hikes, and the Red Rock canyon offers a few trails that are more advanced. I could take you to one some time. Or you could go rock climbing with me.”

  “I’m not very fit, so take it e
asy on me,” she said then yawned.

  “Sleep now,” I told her.

  “Okay,” she whispered, her voice already heavy with sleep. “And, Nino, thank you for everything so far.”

  I frowned into the dark. I didn’t know what she had to thank me for.

  The next morning Kiara was still in a deep sleep when I got up and headed down to the pool to swim my laps. Afterward, I went into our gaming room where I found Remo stretched out on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hand. He was on the phone, looking annoyed. Nobody had cleaned up the shards and blood yet, and if I didn’t do it, nobody would until the cleaning people arrived tomorrow.

  “Don’t worry. That delivery will go through. We always keep our word. You just make sure you keep yours,” Remo muttered before hanging up.

  “Famiglia?”

  “Matteo fucking Vitiello. That motherfucker sets my nerves on edge.”

  “Because you have a similar temperament,” I said.

  Remo narrowed his eyes. “So, how’s your wife doing? Has she gotten over her shock of seeing how fucking is done right.”

  “I had to stitch her up because she got cut by some glass. I think it would be wise to keep your sexual activities in your own wing. Now that Kiara lives under the same roof, the risk is too high that she walks in on you again.”

  “This is my home. We don’t have any maids because we didn’t want to feel like we were being watched in our home, and now you want me to hide in my own wing when I want to fuck a whore?”

  I sank down across from him. “Don’t turn this into a bigger deal than it is. You have more than enough places to go about your fucking, Remo. When Adamo was younger, we were more careful as well, and you could deal with it.”

  “Your wife is a grown woman. Shouldn’t she be able to handle it?”

  “You know why she doesn’t. She’s too scarred from her past, and even if she weren’t, I don’t want her to see you or Savio fucking around. She doesn’t need to see your dick.”

  Remo chuckled. “She doesn’t see yours either. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you can fuck the messed-up past out of her.”

  Remo was trying to piss me off, and despite my lack of emotions, I was growing tired of this discussion. “I never ask you for favors, Remo, but this I ask of you.”

  Remo’s expression turned serious. “Why do you give a fuck about her?”

  “As I told you before, she is now part of the family. Just like we protected Adamo and Savio, we should protect Kiara now. She is innocent and at our mercy, and we should treat her as she deserves, as my wife and as a Falcone.”

  Remo shook his head and set down his coffee cup with an audible clang, spilling some of the liquid on the table. “Fuck. Did you come up with that speech just now? But if you ask me to do it, I will. Savio will be a pain in the ass because of it, I’m sure.”

  The sound of movement made us both fall silent. I knew from the soft footfall that it could only be Kiara. Adamo trampled through the house to annoy us, and Savio’s steps were more confident. Her steps were slow and hesitant, as if she worried about what she would find in the living area this morning.

  “The coast is clear,” Remo shouted. “No fucking about happening here ever again.”

  I shot him a look, but he gave me a twisted smile.

  Kiara emerged from the connecting corridor. Her eyes landed on the shards and her spilled blood on the ground. A pink color filled her cheeks. She glanced toward Remo then quickly to me. “Where do you have a mop so I can clean this up?”

  I got up. “Let me do it.” I moved into the small cleaning closet that none of my brothers had ever set foot in. They didn’t mind if the house was dirty until the cleaning personnel showed up again, but I preferred things neat and clean. Living under the same roof with those pigs, it was a losing battle to keep everything clean.

  Kiara followed close behind. “I should do it. After all, I caused the mess.”

  “Following that logic, Remo and Savio should clean up,” I said.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Remo shouted.

  “Is he angry?” Kiara asked quietly.

  “Remo is always angry. You have to be more specific than that.”

  “Because I disturbed him and his … woman.”

  “You didn’t disturb him. Trust me. Remo is used to a lot of shit. You freaking out on him won’t stop him from fucking a whore.”

  Kiara tensed. “Do you call all women whores?”

  “No, but that’s what they were. They work in the Sugar Trap for us.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “So you always use whores?”

  “No. But if things are busy, it’s the easiest way to get sex. Finding a regular woman requires we go out and charm them. That’s considerably more work.”

  Kiara sighed. “You and your brothers are messed up.”

  Remo got up from the sofa. “Is there any food in the fridge? I’m starving.”

  “I bought eggs and bacon yesterday.” I took the mop, a dustpan, and a small broom out of the closet as Remo disappeared from view. Kiara took the broom and dustpan from me and walked somewhat stiffly back to the remains of the broken glass on the floor. I filled a bucket with water before I followed her.

  “How’s your wound?” I asked.

  “It stings, but your stitches seemed to hold,” she said, her expression softening. “You’re really good at playing doctor.”

  “I have years of practice stitching up my brothers and myself, though Remo has provided me the most practice.”

  “You all have a lot of scars,” she said, her eyes tracing my upper body. I had trouble reading her expression. She didn’t seem unsettled by my half-dressed state.

  “Everyone has scars. Some are skin deep, others reach beyond that.”

  “Soul deep,” she whispered.

  “Are you referring to yourself?”

  She watched me mop up the blood and brushed the shards into the dustpan then smiled strangely up at me. “I don’t think my scars will ever fade.”

  “They don’t need to fade.” I grabbed her hand and touched it to the scar above my bellybutton. Her fingertips fluttered over my skin, her eyes wide with shock. “A knife went in there. Dirty blade. The wound wouldn’t heal for a long time. For a moment, I was sure it wouldn’t heal at all. How does it feel?”

  She frowned. “The skin is a bit harder, but your tattoos cover up everything.”

  “The skin is harder there because of the thick scar tissue. It’s less sensitive to pain and cold and heat. It’s stronger.”

  Her brown eyes held my gaze. “I don’t understand.”

  I moved my face closer. “The scars he left, your body can heal them if you let it, and the result will be stronger than what was there before.”

  CHAPTER 13

  KIARA

  I got up when Nino disappeared in the bathroom to change into his swim trunks. Every morning since I’d moved in three weeks ago, he followed the same ritual. I had occasionally watched him from the window in the beginning until I’d found the courage to follow him outside one day a week ago. Now he always waited for me.

  He raised his eyebrows when he saw me putting on my bathrobe and grabbing a book. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  I followed him downstairs, my eyes darting to his body. He looked good in his swim trunks. In the last few days, I’d often caught myself staring at him. His body fascinated me, I could admit that, and touching his scar hadn’t summoned past demons as I’d feared. His scars and tattoos made me want to find out the story behind each of them. Nino’s story.

  Stretching out on one of the sun chairs, I watched as Nino made his way toward the edge of the pool and jumped in elegantly. He always followed the same routine. Two rounds of the butterfly stroke, two rounds of the backstroke, and two rounds of the crawl. Then he repeated everything from the start. He never faltered in his movements throughout the thirty minutes that he swam, and I didn’t read a single word. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, off the m
uscles in his arms and back as they flexed. It was mesmerizing and beautiful, graceful.

  May mornings in Las Vegas were surprisingly warm, and I relished the feel of the sun on my skin as my eyes rested on my husband.

  My husband. It didn’t feel real yet. He had kept his word, had never made a move to touch me, and sometimes I caught myself wondering how it would be if he did touch me … if were closer. I knew it wasn’t a possibility I should bother entertaining.

  When he swam toward the ladder, I quickly lifted my book and returned my gaze to the page, but above the edge of the book, I watched Nino getting out and a small shiver trailed up my spine.

  After a moment of Nino soaking in the sun—a sight that always halted my breath in my throat and sent spears of heat through my body—he headed my way, dripping water. I handed him the towel he’d put down on the sun chair beside mine and tried not to act like I had been secretly watching him the entire time.

  “Thanks,” he said and began drying himself. “You can use the pool as well, you know.”

  “I haven’t swam in many years, and I was never very good,” I admitted, having a hard time focusing on his face. For some reason, Nino’s presence was even more overwhelming when he stood right in front of me, soaking wet.

  “I can teach you if you want,” Nino drawled.

  “Maybe in a few weeks or so,” I said quickly because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be in only swimwear around Nino, even if he had already seen me naked on our wedding night. That day seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I have to take out your stitches today. If I hadn’t been busy these last few days gathering information on Outfit buildings, I would have done it before. Why don’t we do it right away and have breakfast afterward?”

  I smiled. “That sounds good.” Then added quickly, “Not the part about the stitches but the breakfast part.”