Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles #5)(30)

“Sure,” I got out. I’d definitely insist on Diego being there, not because I couldn’t defend myself against Mick but because I could blame my brother on my awkwardness.

Mick nodded with a satisfied smile. “Now that everything’s settled, I’ll go looking for an engagement ring for you.”

My face muscles quivered from the effort to hold the smile. Engagement. Rings. Everything’s settled.

A sense of finality overcame me and with it a strange mix of sadness and anger.





My niece Greta tiptoed into the gaming room, dressed in her white frilly nightgown, dragging her favorite stuffed rabbit behind, and I put down my phone, knowing sexting would have to wait until dollface was back up in her bed. The girl, whose name was either Sandra or Sarah, I couldn’t remember, was getting too clingy anyway, so this was just the distraction I needed.

“It’s bedtime.”

Greta headed for me, rubbing those big eyes before she stopped in front of me. “Can’t sleep.”

I leaned down. “Then you came down here? Why didn’t you go to your mom or dad?”

Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that Remo really had kids. Most of his life he’d spent hating women and now his daughter and wife had him wrapped around their fingers. “They sleep,” she whispered, peering up at me before she opened her tiny arms. “Want cuddles.”

Cuddles. I smiled wryly and picked her up. She snuggled against my chest like a cat and I wrapped my arms around her as she huddled on my lap. She was tiny for a two-year-old, and so sensitive and quiet that it brought out my protective side.

“Want to watch your favorite series?”

She gave a small nod and I picked up my laptop and searched for the series. When the video began playing, Greta leaned her head against my chest and curled her hand around my thumb. It was something she did often, holding on to our fingers as if she needed the additional touch to feel protected. She didn’t understand it yet, she couldn’t, but she was the safest girl in Las Vegas, probably in the States. Remo would burn down the world to protect Greta. Of course, Nino, Adamo, Fabiano, and I would be right by his side.

I peered down at her as she was transfixed by the animated rabbit and pig on the screen.

If anyone saw me like this, that would make the rounds. Savio Falcone cuddling with his niece and watching cartoons about nosy rabbits and know-it-all pigs. Greta didn’t release my finger, clutching it tightly in one hand while she held her stuffed rabbit in the other. I always found children annoying, and my nephew Nevio definitely had a talent to drive me up the wall, but fuck, they’d somehow weaseled their way into my fucking heart. And Greta, I doubted anyone who met her didn’t like her.

Sometimes when I looked at her cute face, I considered having kids myself in the distant future, then Nevio usually did something that made me want to get a vasectomy.

My phone beeped with a text from Mick. Party in my garage tomorrow. I got a hot reason to celebrate.

I picked up my phone, typing. Finally, gave a girl the big O?

Mick replied: Better.

If you say so. We both know you wouldn’t find a girl’s clit even if a neon arrow pointed straight at it.

Mick: Shut up. Just wait. Diego, you in?

Diego: Not sure.

Mick: Stop being a sore loser.

Diego: K

What’s up with you two fuckers?

Mick: Tomorrow.

Diego went offline.

I frowned. He never went offline. Greta’s body had become soft in my hold. She was fast asleep, her bunny clutched against her chest. Sighing, I stood and carried her upstairs into Remo’s wing where I ran across him.

Relief flickered on his face. “There she is.”

I handed his daughter over to him and he cradled her protectively in his arms. I already felt sorry for the poor idiot who’d ever want to date Greta. I’d still kill him, but I’d make it quicker than Remo. “She wanted to watch that annoying series and fell asleep.”

“Why are you pulling a face?” Remo asked.

“Do you know if anything’s up with Mick or Diego?”

“Nothing Camorra related,” Remo said. “Why?”

“They’re acting strange.”

Maybe they had the hots for the same girl. Diego had only recently dumped Dakota.




Mick and Diego were already lounging on the shabby sofa in Mick’s garage when I arrived. It still smelled of engine oil and exhaust, even though it hadn’t been used as a garage in years. I grinned at them and threw myself into the shabby old massage chair that had been my seat for a long time now—ever since the spring poking out of the worn-out leather couch had almost fucked my ass. Diego made a face as if he was sucking on a lemon. Mick, however, was grinning ear to ear.

“What’s up?”

Mick held out a can of beer, but I shook my head.

“Fight in three days. I want to stay sharp.” My opponent wasn’t my most difficult challenge yet, but he was a nasty piece of shit, who liked to play dirty.

Mike practically shoved the beer at me. “Come on.”

“Just spill the fucking beans.”

Diego glared, first at Mick, then at me. What the fuck was wrong with him? He looked as if I’d personally insulted him.

Mick beamed like a goddamn kid on Christmas morning. “I’ll get Gemma!”