Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles Book 2)

by Cora Reilly

  I wasn’t sure. But if I got close to Nino, I needed him to stop seeking out other women, and I wasn’t sure if he’d agree to that as long as I wasn’t giving him what he needed. Why should he do this on my terms?

  I was nervous all day because of my conversation with Leona, and even music hardly managed to set me at ease this time. My fingers kept stumbling over the notes, so I had to keep starting from scratch.

  When Nino came home late in the afternoon, looking as beautifully cold as ever—dressed all in black, tall and muscled—and leaned against the piano to listen to me play, I finally gathered my courage. “I’d like to go out for dinner.”

  His brows drew together. “Of course.”

  “Just the two of us,” I blurted.

  He regarded me calmly, his eyes searching my face. I wondered how much of my feelings he could guess and how much of them would always remain a secret to him. Sometimes it came as a relief that he had trouble reading emotions. “Tonight?”

  My fingers stopped on the keys. “That would be lovely. But can you get a table that quickly?”

  He chuckled, and I let out a small laugh, remembering who I was talking to. “Never mind.”

  “What would you like to eat? Asian? European?”

  “Asian. I haven’t eaten much of it yet except for sushi.”

  “Then I’ll book a table at the best Szechuan restaurant in town.”

  “What do I have to wear? Is there a dress code?”

  Nino’s eyes trailed over me. “Something red.”

  I blinked. That wasn’t the answer I had expected. “Why red?” I couldn’t imagine guests were required to wear a certain color, but this was Las Vegas and anything was possible.

  “Because I think it will go well with your dark hair and honey skin. I want you to stand out, not blend in.”

  I stared down at my arm. Nobody had ever described my skin as honey colored. A pleasing warmth settled in my chest. “I don’t have anything in red. Most of my clothes are meant to make me blend in,” I said.

  Nino nodded. “I got that.” He glanced down at his watch. “If we head out now, we can buy you something and still have enough time to return home and get ready, if I book the table at eight.” He didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he picked up his phone, dialed a number, and two minutes later we had a table. Another customer would hear some kind of excuse why they wouldn’t be dining at Chengdu tonight.

  “Come now,” Nino said, holding out his hand. I had to admit that I enjoyed his small touches. My hand in his didn’t feel as if it was caging me in or anything close to it. It made me feel safe.

  I put my palm in his and followed him to his Bugatti Veyron. “Where are we going?” I asked as we pulled down the driveway.

  “It’s a boutique where Fabiano occasionally buys dresses for Leona. From what he tells me, they have extravagant pieces. I’ve never been there. They don’t sell men’s clothing.”

  I laughed nervously. “How much attention am I supposed to draw to us?”

  “As much attention as you deserve, Kiara. You are too beautiful to lurk in the shadows. And as my wife, you will have to get used to the spotlight.”

  My insides warmed at his compliment. He’d told me that he found me beautiful before, but it still felt wonderful to hear him say it again.

  The store offered an overwhelming selection of dresses in all colors, and from the moment we entered, the saleswoman hovered around us like a mother hen. She kept throwing Nino nervous glances, obviously eager to please him, but, of course, his face gave nothing away.

  “We’re looking for dresses in red,” he said, his palm still pressed lightly against my back.

  “Oh, we have a few beautiful pieces in that color. Let me show you. Your wife will look absolutely stunning in them.”

  Nino looked at me with a glint in his eyes. “That she will.”

  I shivered, and again it wasn’t in fear. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but my body reacted to Nino in a way that was unsettling and exhilarating at once. We followed the woman back toward a secluded part of the boutique where the changing rooms were. “I’ll be back in a moment. Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” I said with a smile.

  Nino nodded his agreement. Then the woman dashed off. He lowered his hand from my back. The saleswoman returned with three dresses thrown over her arm. I slipped into the changing room, and she handed me the first dress. It was like a second skin and went to my knees, accentuating every curve with a high collar and no sleeves. People would be staring if I wore this, especially men.

  Nerves fluttered in my stomach as I stepped out. Nino leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit like a runway model. He straightened the moment he saw me, his gray eyes sliding over my body.

  “It’s too sexy, don’t you think?” I whispered.

  Nino moved closer. “It’s perfect.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you want people to see how beautiful you are?”

  I shifted. “I’m not used to it.”

  “You will grow used to it. Don’t worry.”

  I tried on a long dress with a high slit and another one with a low neckline and even lower back, and they, too, would definitely not help me go unnoticed, but the way Nino regarded me in them gave me a strange shiver of delight. In the end, we bought all three dresses and even a red jumpsuit. When we were back in the car, I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are really into red.”

  Nino didn’t look away from the street, but the corners of his mouth tipped up in the ghost of a smile. “I don’t favor one color over the other, in general, but red is your color, and I like its symbolic value as well.”

  “Red like blood,” I said.

  “Yes. It’s always good to unsettle people.”

  I didn’t say that he didn’t need me at his side wearing a blood red dress to unsettle people. Nino was unsettling on his own, and he knew it.

  Two hours later, I was dressed in the knee-length skin tight dress and matching blood red heels. I wore my hair down because it made me feel less exposed, and I preferred to have my neck covered.

  Nino was waiting for me downstairs, leaning against my piano, dressed in all black, as usual. The fitted dress shirt and tight pants fit him like a glove. He wore his hair down for once, but it was slicked back. His eyes followed me as I descended the stairs. I took his outstretched hand, and his thumb found my wrist as he leaned close.

  For a heartbeat, I was sure he’d kiss me, and my lips parted in a mix of anticipation and nerves, but he leaned toward my ear and whispered, “Tonight people will start talking about another Falcone. The lady in red.”

  I shivered, my eyelashes fluttering at the feel of his warm breath on my ear and his scent filling my nose. Then he pulled back but didn’t release my wrist.

  “Ready?” he asked in a low voice, and for some reason he made it sound as if he wasn’t referring to going to dinner.

  I gave a mute nod, trying to gather my wits about me. Nino led me into the main part of the mansion. Remo was sitting on the sofa, his laptop in front of him. His eyes moved up when we entered, and they locked on me. I didn’t move.

  Nino’s grip on my wrist tightened, and his thumb brushed my skin lightly. “We’ll be going for dinner now.”

  Remo nodded, his lips pulling wide. “Blood red. Good choice.” They exchanged a look. “You look good enough to devour,” he said to me, and my heart rate quadrupled.

  “Thanks,” I barely got out.

  Nino pulled me outside toward his car. “Remo is no danger for you, Kiara. Trust me on that. His words are meant to unsettle. It’s how he is. But you are mine and that makes you off-limits. Remo would never lay a hand on you. Never.”

  “You trust him?” I asked as I settled into the passenger seat.

  “I trust him absolutely. With my life. With yours.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to share his confidence that Remo would protect me. He had protected me from Durant on my wedding day, but with Remo
there really was no telling what he’d do.

  Every table in the restaurant was occupied when we arrived, but the manager greeted us personally. He shook Nino’s hand and bowed his head slightly before turning to me. I held my hand out with a smile. He hesitated briefly, but after Nino inclined his head, he took it and kissed the back of my hand. “Your wife is stunning, Mr. Falcone.”

  “She is,” Nino drawled.

  People at the surrounding tables were throwing veiled glances at us, and as the manager led us to our table with a stunning view over the Strip, they began whispering.

  My cheeks felt hot when I sank down into the chair the manager held out for me. Nino seemed completely unfazed by the force of attention. He regarded me over the menu. “You look flustered.”

  I laughed. “I am. Everyone’s talking about us.”

  Nino shrugged. “Let them talk. I’d be more worried if they didn’t.”

  “Do you never wish to blend in, to walk the streets unnoticed?”

  Nino lowered the menu, a hard look on his face. “My brothers and I were in hiding for a while when our family was hunting us down. We fought to get back what was ours. We killed and we bled for our birthright. We tore Las Vegas from the bleeding hands of unworthy men. We fought for the spotlight. We are done hiding.”

  The waiter brought us our wine at that moment. A blood red Shiraz. Nino raised his glass with a strange smile. It was so very difficult to read him. “To a place in the spotlight. No hiding ever again, Kiara.”

  I clanged my glass against his and took a deep gulp. “No hiding ever again.”

  The waiter arrived with the appetizers a second later. Everything was delicious, spicy, and extravagant. Nino was easy to talk to. I could have listened to him answering my questions about Las Vegas history all night.

  He knew everything. Eventually, more personal questions crossed my mind. “Why did your father send you to boarding school in England? Most Made Men keep their sons close because they want to teach them everything they need to know to become Made Men themselves.”

  The mentioning of Benedetto Falcone brought an immediate change to Nino’s body language. When before he had been relaxed, his shoulders now tensed considerably and his expression turned colder. “Our father didn’t want Remo and me under his roof, and he knew he didn’t have to prepare us for becoming Camorrista anymore.”

  “But you were twelve and fourteen at the time, and your brothers were even younger.”

  Nino smiled, and I took another deeper gulp of wine because his expression gave me the chills. “Our father knew Remo and I would have killed him if we stayed. Remo killed his first man three years before at eleven, and shortly before our father sent us away, I had killed my first man together with Remo. Our father knew he had no way of controlling us, so he sent us away. He knew we wouldn’t leave without our brothers, so he sent Adamo and Savio away as well.”

  “That’s horrible,” I whispered.

  Nino took a swig of his own wine. “It made us stronger, brought us closer. Regret over the past is wasted time.”

  I could feel the effects of the wine by now. Red wine was definitely stronger than the occasional glass of champagne or white wine I’d had in the past.

  Nino tilted his head. “I think you’ve had enough wine.”

  I smiled. “You think?” For some reason, I took another gulp of the red liquid, and Nino shook his head, his mouth twitching.

  “You will regret this tomorrow morning.”

  “I thought regret is wasted time,” I said.

  His mouth twitched again. “It is, but right now you still have the chance to prevent yourself from regretting anything.”

  “I think it’s too late for that,” I said. I felt hot and fuzzy. I’d probably have the headache of my lifetime in the morning.

  Nino waved over the waiter and paid for our dinner. I got up and immediately realized that I was a bit tipsier than I thought, but I straightened my spine, not wanting to appear drunk in public. Nino wrapped an arm around my waist, and I was too grateful for its steadying effect to tense up at the contact. He led me out of the restaurant.

  “Thank you for the lovely evening,” I whispered before I plopped down in the car seat with less grace than intended.

  “It was surprisingly pleasant,” Nino agreed, and I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The wine had loosened my control.

  Nino raised his eyebrows and closed the door. I leaned against the window, closing my eyes.

  I woke with my head against something hot and hard. My body stiffened when I realized I was in someone’s arms, being carried.

  “Shh, Kiara. You are safe.”

  I peered up at Nino’s calm face and forced my body to relax in his hold. “Where are we?” I asked groggily. My brain felt foggy.

  “At home.”

  It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what he meant. Then I recognized our bedroom. He set me down in the center of the room. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

  I nodded and immediately regretted the motion. Nino gripped my hip to steady me. “Can you do this?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly because I didn’t want Nino to undress me.

  I wasn’t sure how long it took me to get out of my dress and go through my evening routine, but it felt like forever before I finally lay down in bed.

  Nino joined me shortly after. “Tell me if you’re going to be sick.” He touched my forehead with his palm, and I leaned in to the touch, but then he dropped his arm. He stretched out on his back beside me, and I scooted closer, reaching for his arm. My fingertips curiously traced the tattoo of a shadowy figure amidst surging flames. When my eyes managed to focus, I realized a name was written in the flames. It was small and you had to take a closer look to distinguish it from the fire. Remo.

  “You have Remo’s name tattooed on your arm.”

  Nino regarded me without a flicker of emotion. “I have Savio’s and Adamo’s name tattooed on my other arm.”

  “Why is he burning?”

  “Because he burned for me,” Nino said quietly.

  I searched his face but could tell he wasn’t going to tell me more. My fingertips followed the flames down to his wrist. I frowned when I felt something rigid under my fingertips. I turned his arm slightly so I could see his forearm. Under his Camorra tattoo, which was surrounded my flames as well, a long thin scar ran along his vein. I looked up at him, and he stared right back. I didn’t dare ask because for once his eyes didn’t appear emotionless at all.

  I stroked the scar lightly. “Does it bother you if I touch you like this?” I asked in the barest of whispers.

  “Your touch doesn’t bother me, Kiara.”

  I wished he could touch me like that without my body wrenching me back into the past, without my fears taking control. “I wish … I wish I could be touched without fear.”

  “Eventually you will. You will kill the part of your uncle I couldn’t kill for you.”

  He sounded absolutely sure as if it wasn’t a matter of if but when. And because this was Nino Falcone, and maybe because I was drunk, I believed him.

  CHAPTER 15

  KIARA

  Nino stirred beside me, and my eyes peeled open. Just like I had the last few mornings since our dinner, I was snuggled up to him at night and wedged myself under his arm, my head in the crook of his neck, my knees pressed up against his side. His warmth and comforting scent wrapped around me and managed to banish the nightmares.

  “Sorry,” I murmured like I did every morning because I was fairly sure that the position couldn’t be comfortable for Nino, but he never pushed me away. I sat up, freeing his arm.

  “Your subconscious seeks protection at night, and I can provide it,” he said with a shrug as he stood. The tight briefs did nothing to hide the outline of him.

  I forced my eyes away from it, my heart thudding faster. He grabbed his swim trunks and went into the bathroom to change, but he didn’t close the door. It was only for my benefit
that he didn’t undress in the bedroom. I had considered telling him that I could deal with his nakedness, but every time I was on the verge of saying those words, my courage left me.

  Getting up as well, I grabbed my satin dressing gown. It wasn’t because it was cold but because I felt uncomfortable walking around the house in only my nightgown.

  Nino returned and opened the door for me. Grabbing my book from the nightstand, I followed him in silence down the stairs and out through the French doors. It was already warm outside. I settled on the lounge chair close to the pool and opened my book, but my eyes weren’t drawn to the letters on the page. Instead, I watched as Nino stepped up to the edge of the pool and dove in, his muscles flexing as he did.

  He swam his laps in the pool, and I observed him over my book from my spot on the chair. Eventually, I had to remove my robe because the sun relentlessly beat down on me despite the early hour.

  Sometimes I felt ridiculous for even bringing a book with me. I hardly ever read a word. My gaze was drawn to the man in the water. The book was like my safety shield because I was too cowardly to admit that I enjoyed seeing Nino—and definitely too terrified of him finding out that I did.

  After thirty minutes, he swam over to the ladder and climbed out. Water dripped off him and down his sculpted body. My eyes trailed from his muscled shoulders, down to his eight-pack and his narrow hips to his muscled thighs. His tight swim trunks hardly hid his body, and I could see the outline of him beneath the wet fabric again. The horrid tattoos, with their flames, agonizing faces, and words of pain and blood that ran from his forearms up over his shoulders down to his pecs and around to his shoulder blades didn’t scare me any more like they had done in the beginning. Nino was a piece of art.

  His movements were unhurried and exact as he rubbed himself dry. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His cool, gray eyes met mine, and I sucked in a sharp breath and quickly looked back down on my book. When his shadow fell over me, I had no choice but to stop pretending I was reading. I hadn’t paid attention to my book in a while.