Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

by Cora Reilly

  I stepped into the shower and turned it on. The water was hot, on the verge of being painful but it felt good. I leaned back against the wall and slowly sank down. Pulling my legs up against my chest, I cried because Remo was right: what I’d done today, I’d never forget. Even if I returned to the Outfit, how could I face my family again? How could I face Danilo, my fiancé, the man I had promised myself to?

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat like this when Remo stepped into the bathroom. I didn’t look up, only saw his legs in my peripheral vision. He moved closer and then the water stopped. He crouched before me. I still didn’t look up. My throat and nose were clogged from crying and I started to shiver without the warmth of the water.

  “Look at me,” Remo ordered. “Look at me, Serafina.”

  When I refused to do as he asked, he reached for my chin and nudged it up until my gaze met his. His dark eyes searched my face. I couldn’t read the emotions in his eyes. “If it helps, try telling yourself I raped you,” he whispered in a low voice. “Maybe you will start believing it.”

  Nothing had ever cut deeper than Remo’s words. He didn’t need a knife to make me bleed. I glared at him, wanting to hate him with every part of my being, but a tiny, horrible part of me didn’t, and it was that part of me I despised more than I could ever hate Remo.

  REMO

  After claiming Serafina, I left her in the bed. I needed time to gather my fucking thoughts. I went to my bedroom and put on briefs but didn’t bother cleaning my thighs or face. It was late in the evening, so Kiara should still be in her bedroom with Nino.

  I could still taste Serafina, sweet and metallic.

  The sweetest triumph of my life.

  Fuck. This woman ...

  I fixed myself a drink, a bourbon, then leaned against the bar, swirling the liquid in the glass, fucking averse to washing away her taste. The memory still burned bright.

  This was the moment I’d worked toward, had been patient for. For once in my life I’d been patient.

  Your reward will be worth it.

  I will be your first angel.

  Serafina was so much more than I’d hoped for. She was magnificently gorgeous, ruinously breathtaking. Even lesser men would kill to have someone as regal as her in their bed only once. I almost got a fucking boner thinking about how Danilo would feel seeing the sheets with Serafina’s virgin blood on them, how acutely he’d feel the loss of something he had desired from afar for years, something that had almost been in his reach only to be painfully ripped from him. It was enough to drive even the most controlled man into a rampage.

  And her father and brother ... for them it would be a painting of their greatest failure.

  “That smile on your face creeps me the fuck out,” Savio muttered as he came in, smelling of perfume and sex.

  “Thinking of my next message for Dante,” I said, setting the glass down without taking a single sip. I couldn’t bear the idea of getting rid of Serafina’s taste just yet.

  Savio’s eyes flitted down to my upper thighs coated in Serafina’s blood then up to my face.

  He crossed his arms. “Either you mauled a kitten and rubbed your face and groin all over the spoils or you had a disturbing meeting with virgin pussy.”

  Something dark and possessive burned my chest hearing him talk like that about Serafina. I shoved it down. “Not a virgin anymore.”

  Savio regarded me curiously then shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “You really got her to come willingly into your bed. Fuck, Remo, you must have twisted that girl’s mind.”

  I grinned. “And tomorrow I’ll bathe in my triumph and send Dante the sheets.”

  Savio laughed, came toward me, and downed the drink I’d poured for myself. “To your twisted mind and all the twisted shit it comes up with. You wanted to break her and you broke her.”

  I left him standing there, not in the mood to talk about Serafina anymore. My body yearned for her, for more. For everything. When I entered the bedroom, I found the bed empty, except for the stained sheets. I followed the sound of running water into the bathroom.

  Serafina was huddled in the shower and the sight caused an unpleasant twinge in my chest. I turned off the water then knelt before her. “Look at me,” I said. “Look at me, Serafina.”

  Her blue eyes held anguish and guilt when I forced her face up.

  “If it helps, try telling yourself I raped you,” I murmured. “Maybe you will start believing it.”

  Hatred flared in her eyes, and for once it didn’t give me a thrill.

  I got up, frustrated by my body’s reaction. I stalked back into the bedroom and stripped the bed of its sheets, not wanting them ruined. Serafina would probably try to burn them to destroy any proof of what we’d done, but she couldn’t burn the memory. I threw them into the hallway before I returned to Serafina. She stood now, her fingers clutching the edge of the shower stall, her other hand pressed against her stomach. She took a step, wincing.

  I moved closer and her eyes darted down to my bloody thighs. She grimaced. “Why don’t you clean up?”

  “Because I want to remember.”

  “And I want to forget,” she bit out.

  “You need to own up to your actions, Angel. You can’t run from them,” I said, stopping in front of her.

  Hatred swirled in her blue eyes, but not all of it was directed at me. “Leave.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Leave!” she rasped.

  “The Tylenol will help with your soreness.” I turned and walked toward the door.

  “I don’t want the pain gone. I deserve it,” she muttered. I paused in the doorway and tossed a glance over my shoulder, but Serafina wasn’t looking at me. She was glaring at the floor.

  I left the bathroom, took new sheets from the wardrobe and threw them on the bed before I headed out and locked the bedroom door. Stuffing the discarded sheets under my arm, I hesitated. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, but something didn’t sit well with me. Ignoring the sensation, I went downstairs.

  Nino crossed my path as I headed into the game room. He, too, was only in his briefs. His eyes flitted down to the stained sheets then lower to my thighs before he raised his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose it’s menstrual blood.”

  “It isn’t. It’s Dante’s downfall.”

  Nino trailed after me in that annoying, brooding way he had when he disapproved of something I did. “Not only his downfall.”

  I moved on into the office. Our father’s office. It was one of the few rooms we’d left mostly as it was, but neither of us worked out of it. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you referring to Serafina?”

  “She will be ruined in her family’s eyes, in her circles. Some might even consider her actions betrayal. She is a woman and Dante won’t kill her for it, but she will be shunned ... if she’s allowed to return to her home at all. I assume you intend to send her back now that you got what you wanted.”

  Something in his voice set me off. “I haven’t gotten everything I wanted from her yet. Not even close. And she will stay until she gives me every little thing I desire.”

  Nino stepped in front of me. “Is this even still about revenge?”

  “It has never been only about revenge. It’s about obliterating the Outfit from within, not mere revenge.” I sidestepped him and went in search for something I could wrap the sheets in. Finally, I found a box and stuffed them inside.

  “Don’t lose yourself in a game you don’t have full control over, Remo.”

  The worry in his voice made me look up. I touched his shoulder. “When have I ever been in control? Losing control is my favorite pastime.”

  Nino’s mouth twitched. “As if I don’t know it.” His expression turned serious again. “In these last few weeks you’ve spent a lot of time with Serafina. We need you, Remo. The Camorra can’t risk an endless conflict with the Outfit. Go in for the kill.”

  “These sheets are the point of my knife. Are you going to help me with that note to Dante and her f
amily?”

  Nino sighed. “If it puts an end to this, then yes.”

  I rummaged around for a fancy piece of stationery in the old wood desk then took out a pen.

  “Now let’s figure out the best words to crush them. I thought we could start with a reference to the bloody sheets tradition of the Famiglia for an additional kick.”

  Nino shook his head. “I’m glad you are my brother and not my enemy.”

  CHAPTER 17

  SERAFINA

  I hovered beside the bed, unable to move. The white sheets were gone, sheets covered in my blood. Remo had taken them, and I knew why.

  I closed my eyes for a moment. He would send them to my family. They would find out what had happened. What would they think?

  Would they hate me? Banish me?

  This wasn’t rape. I could not defend my actions. There was no force, no torture, no violence. Samuel had risked his life for me. Men had died because of me, and I had betrayed them all.

  I turned away from the bed, unable to bear its presence, and headed toward the window. I climbed on the windowsill, wincing at the sharp twinge between my legs. A painful reminder I didn’t need. Every moment of what I’d done was burned into my memory, blazing fiercely when I closed my eyes.

  I slept with Remo Falcone.

  Capo of the Camorra.

  My enemy.

  Not Danilo. Not my fiancé. My eyes found my engagement ring discarded on the nightstand. I hadn’t worn it today, and now I could never wear it again without feeling like a fraud. I swallowed. He would see the sheets as well. I had given away what had been promised to him for five years. What was worse was I had wanted to give it away.

  I could still feel Remo’s body on mine, the way he moved in me.

  It was ... wondrous. Freeing. Intoxicating.

  Sin.

  Betrayal.

  My ruin.

  What I did couldn’t be undone. A kiss could be denied. A touch could be concealed. This? This had left scars. There was tangible proof, and Remo would flaunt it in my family’s faces.

  You have to own up to your actions, Angel.

  I knew I needed to, but I wasn’t sure if I could.

  REMO

  The next morning I found Serafina perched in her usual spot on the windowsill. The sheets weren’t rumpled. She must have slept leaning against the window or not at all.

  “You sent out the sheets,” Serafina said quietly, not looking my way. Of course, she knew. She was not only beautiful, she was stunningly intelligent. A lethal combination.

  “I did. Express delivery. They should arrive at your family’s home tomorrow morning or maybe even tonight.”

  She didn’t turn, didn’t react. Only looked out of the window. Her hair was brushed over her other shoulder, her slender neck bared to my view. My teeth marks marred her unblemished skin. Her shoulders gave a small twitch. Then she stiffened her spine. “What did you tell them? I assume you sent them a note with your gift.” There was the slightest waver in her tone, a chink in her cool voice.

  I stalked closer. “What would you have wanted the note to say?”

  She peered over her shoulder at me, a beautifully hateful expression perfectly frozen on her face.

  “Who knew hatred could be this beautiful?” I said as my fingertips slid over the soft bumps of her spine through her thin satin robe.

  She jumped up, whirled around, and slapped my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  I pressed her into the wall, one hand curled around her wrists as I shoved them into the wall above her head. “Yesterday you let me touch you, let me eat your pussy, let me fuck you. You gave me yourself, willingly, desperately, wantonly.”

  The last word broke through her mask. “You would have forced me eventually.”

  My eyes locked on hers, my grip on her wrists tightening. “I thought you were brave, Angel. I thought you wouldn’t choose the easy way, but now I see you can’t even stand down the truth of what you did.”

  She didn’t look away.

  “Now tell me again, why did you give yourself to me yesterday? And be brave. Was it because you feared I’d take your gift without asking or because you wanted to be the one who decided to whom you wanted to gift it to?”

  She swallowed hard. “I wanted to gift it to Danilo. It was his privilege.”

  “Did you really? Or did you feel obligated to gift it to him because someone promised that gift to him without your consent.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about consent.”

  I moved closer. “Why did you give it to me?”

  Her eyes flashed and tears sprang into her eyes. “Because I wanted to!” She snapped her lips shut and finally looked away. A tear slid down her perfect cheek, and she took a shuddering breath. “They won’t forgive me for it. They will hate me fiercely, but never as much as I hate myself, never enough.”

  I leaned down and grazed my nose over her pulse point, my hand cupping her face.

  “Do it,” she whispered, begged, and I drew back, looking into the blue pools of despair.

  “Do what?” I nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear.

  “Hurt me.”

  My mouth brushed her chin and higher over her lips.

  “Hurt me.” She said it harsher this time. I gripped her waist and turned her around, pressing her into the wall, her wrists still above her head, my body caging her. I was already painfully hard. The hand that wasn’t holding her wrists moved under her satin robe, and I found her bare beneath. I exhaled against her neck then bit down lightly, causing her to shudder. My fingers moved to her flat belly then lower to the trimmed curls until I dipped between her folds. “Hurt me, Remo!”

  “I will, Angel. Patience is a virtue. Don’t you remember?” My fingers slid deeper.

  She wasn’t wet like she’d been yesterday, just barely aroused, mostly broken and desperate to exchange one form of pain for another. I unbuckled my belt and took out my cock before easing it between her beautiful firm ass cheeks. Her breath caught but I dipped lower to her pussy. She was tense as a fist against my tip, sore, braced for the pain.

  I didn’t push in. Instead my fingers started playing with her pussy, light, teasing, coaxing touches. Nothing like what she wanted.

  “Why can’t you just hurt me?” she whispered, tilting her face sideways and upward.

  Yes, why? My hands always gave pain readily.

  I held her in place, arms raised above her head, her front pressed to the wall, my cock wedged between her thighs, and watched her cry. I claimed her mouth for a kiss, tasting her tears as my fingers stroked between her pussy lips. Soon I could feel her surrender. My fingers slipped through her wetness, and her pussy loosened against my tip. Using my foot I shifted her legs further apart then looked into her teary blue eyes as I eased into her. She winced and I kissed her mouth again, slow and languid, until I was sheathed in her up to my balls, my cock buried deep inside her.

  “Now your patience will be rewarded, Angel.”

  She smiled joylessly against my mouth, and I pulled all the way out of her then slammed back in. She gasped, her body coiling tight, trapped between my chest and the wall. Her pussy clenched mercilessly around me. I stroked her clit as I drove into her again. My body longed to go even harder, and so did she, but I held back not wanting to do any lasting damage.

  Fuck.

  What the fuck was Serafina doing to me?

  Her eyes held mine as if she could find salvation there, but we were both damned, and I was dragging her closer to damnation every day.

  My balls slapped against her with every thrust, and I was losing control, not just of my fucking dick but also of everything else. Serafina was still tight and her moans hesitant, pain stronger than pleasure. Claiming her mouth for a kiss, I abandoned control and came with a violent shudder.

  She shivered in my hold as my cock twitched inside her. I pressed my forehead to hers, staying inside for a few moments. Her warm breath fanned over my lips, and finally I pulled out of her. Her wh
imper made me kiss her shoulder blade. Then I lifted her into my arms.

  I carried her over to her bed and laid her down then pressed up to her back, and she let me. She was quiet. I ran my fingertips over her smooth arm. Her sweet scent mingled with mine and the muskiness of sex. The perfect mixture.

  “And do you feel better? Did the pain help?” I murmured against her shoulder blade as I kissed it again. I wasn’t sure why I felt the urge to kiss her like that, but I simply could not stop.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “I could have told you that.”

  “You know all about pain and its effects, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think one person can ever know everything about pain. Everyone feels pain differently, reacts differently. It’s a curious thing.”

  Serafina’s body loosened further in my embrace. “I think I prefer pain. It doesn’t make me feel as guilty as pleasure does.”

  I buried my nose in her hair. “You have no reason to feel guilty.”

  She didn’t say anything and eventually her breathing evened out. I lifted my head carefully and found her asleep. Her pale lashes fluttered, her face peaceful. I’d never understood the appeal of watching someone sleep, had always found it dull, lacking. I had been so fucking wrong.

  I kept stroking her arm then kissed her skin again. Fuck. How was I going to give her back?

  I rested my head back on the pillow. I wasn’t tired despite the long night I’d had, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up with Serafina in my arms.

  Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to relax. I had fallen into a light slumber when Serafina stirred, jerking me awake. She stiffened in my hold.

  “It’s strange when your nightmares are less horrendous than reality,” she whispered.

  “I’ve lived it, Angel. It makes you stronger.”

  “I wished you had taken me on the first day, back in that basement on that dirty mattress like the whore that I am.”

  The words ripped from her throat as if every syllable was pure agony.