Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles #5)(73)

Nino gave me a sign that indicated he needed space to search the entire restaurant for proof. His face remained emotionless as usual.

I stood, taking Gemma with me, who still clung to me.

“What about Mom and Carlotta?” She sniffled as she peered up at me so fucking scared, I wanted to kill every Bratva fucker in the country.

“They are at home. Diego called them on our way here.”

Relief followed by dread filled Gemma’s face. “Does… does Mom know?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh God.” Gemma pressed a hand over her mouth, horrified. “What are we going to do now? Without Dad? How’s Mom going to pay the bills for Carlotta? How are we going to get by without Dad? Without the restaurants?”

“I will take care of all of you,” Diego said.

He stood near the swinging door as if he couldn’t bring himself to come closer to his father.

Remo stepped into the restaurant from the kitchen, dragging the Russian behind him. The man was twitching but still unconscious. “I’m going to take him to the Sugar Trap.”

“I’ll take Gemma home with me. That way, you can check on her, Nino, and she’ll be safe,” I said.

Diego didn’t even protest, which showed how distraught he was. “I’ll head home to check on Mom and Carlotta.”

“I already sent a few men over just in case, as well as the pastor,” Nino said.

Diego nodded, then glanced at the Russian before his eyes locked with mine. “You and I, Savio?”

I nodded. Remo handed Diego his car keys. “Here, take my car and check on your mother and sister.” Finally, he walked over to his dad before he rushed outside.

Wrapping an arm around Gemma’s waist, I led her toward my car. She seemed in a state of shock, judging from the way her teeth were shattering and the zoned-out look in her eyes. She slumped in the backseat and closed her eyes. She didn’t say anything on our drive to the mansion. Nino had said she needed to lie down for a while. He’d later check on her again. She followed me inside, leaning heavily on me. Kiara and Serafina sent us worried glances as I led Gemma past the common room.

Once upstairs, I helped her toward my bathroom. I handed her a pair of my sweatpants and the smallest shirt I owned. “Can you shower?”

She nodded but still didn’t say anything.

I left the door ajar when I returned to the bedroom to hear if she passed out, then I sank down on the bed. For a moment, I stared blankly in the direction of the bathroom, then I fell back, closing my eyes. My pulse was still too fast and the tight sensation in my chest was only slowly lifting.

Gemma emerged fifteen minutes later. My sweatpants hung low on her hips and my white-tee showed off the fact that Gemma wasn’t wearing a bra. I tore my eyes away from her chest and returned my gaze to the ceiling.

She surprised me by crawling into bed with me. She looked small and scared. Slowly, I rolled over until I was facing her.

“What’s going to happen now?”

First, I was going to dismember the Russian, then I’d burn the remaining Bratva fuckers out of their hole-ups in our territory.

That wasn’t something I could share with Gemma, though, and it wasn’t really what she’d been asking.

“Diego’s working hard, but he can’t rebuild the restaurant, manage the Capri and earn enough money as an Enforcer to pay for Carlotta’s bills.”

“Gem,” I said quietly. “My brothers and I own the West. We have more money than we can ever spend. Your family sure as hell won’t run out of money. No matter how much money you need, I’ll give it to you.”

The look in her eyes was like a punch in the stomach. “What do you want in return?”

“Fuck,” I breathed. “You think I’d want you to sleep with me, so I’ll help your family and baby sister?”

She only looked at me with those forlorn olive eyes. I moved a bit closer. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Gem. I’d never do that,” I said fiercely.

She let out a teary laugh. The sound inexplicably tore at me. “You aren’t?”

“Fuck. I deserve that, don’t I? I was an asshole, I’ll admit it.”

“Yes, you were.” She leaned in, bringing us closer, drawing in a deep breath. “Does that mean you won’t be an asshole anymore?”

I nuzzled her neck without thinking about it. I just wanted, needed to be close to her. Less than an hour ago, I’d thought she was dead, and that had gutted me like nothing ever had before. “A tricky question. Assholery is in my DNA and has a penchant of coming out in unfortunate moments. It’s the infamous foot in mouth disease I suffer from.”

Gemma laughed, almost a happy sound. She slid even closer and lifted her face. I could feel her warmth, smell her sweet breath, and the shea butter she always used to moisturize. A very dangerous, very tempting position. And fuck the look on Gemma’s face was gasoline for the fucking fire of my desire for her.

She was sad and scared, and wanted distraction. And fuck, my specialty was distracting girls, give them a good time, make them forget their boyfriends, responsibilities and even annoyance with me. But this was Gemma.

“You hurt me,” she breathed.

“I won’t hurt you like that ever again.”

It was a promise I’d do my fucking best to keep.