Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(101)

“I think it’s really cool that you celebrate Christmas twice,” Aurora said.

“What do you say, Roman?”

“Yes!” he agreed enthusiastically.

Dinara and I exchanged an amused look. She took my hand under the table, pressing our tattoos together.





Roman clapped enthusiastically as he watched the awards ceremony.

Aurora had to hold his hand tightly to stop him from running around.

It was only the second time that I’d managed to win the seven-daycircuit.

In the past my constant pee breaks had destroyed any chance at winning, not to mention that Adamo and I often waited for each other in the first few days to spend the night together.

When I stepped on the winner’s rostrum, Roman clapped even harder, beaming all over his face.

Adamo climbed up on the rostrum beside me. He’d finished in third position. I gave him a coy look. So far he was still in the lead when it came to total wins, but I had every intention to catch up with him eventually.

After the ceremony, Roman rushed over to us and threw himself into my arms. I swung him up and he thrust his arms up over his head, as if he too had won. Adamo smiled broadly at me. Despite our competitiveness losing against each other never stung, even if we teased each other mercilessly in the days that followed. The winner always got the bragging rights and the loser promised retribution.

“You beat Dad, Mom,” Roman reminded me, before he turned to Adamo to say in a gravelly voice. “Sorry, Dad.”

Adamo tousled Roman’s unruly hair. “Don’t worry, buddy. Next time Dad will win again.”

I sent him a look that made it blatantly clear that wouldn’t happen.

“I want to race too!” Roman declared.

“Maybe next year,” Adamo said with a wink.

Over my dead body. This was one of the times where I wished Adamo and I hadn’t passed on our recklessness. Adamo always joked I was being overprotective, and he was right, but I just couldn’t help it.

Together we climbed down the rostrum, and I accepted the congratulations of fellow racers and many pit girls. Funnily enough, these girls had become much nicer to me since I’d given birth, probably because they didn’t see me as competition anymore now that I was a mom. Not that I’d ever competed with them for their prey—the bachelor racers. I’d only had eyes for Adamo from the beginning.

I still rocked jean shorts and crop tops, even if I had to have my belly piercing removed due to an infection during pregnancy. I now wore the tiny Fabergé egg as a pendant around my neck. Adamo had actually had the idea and gifted the necklace to me shortly after I’d given birth to Roman.

“I’m starving,” I said as I followed Adamo who cleared a path through the buzzing crowd, which was already prepping everything for the huge party that always followed the sevenday-circuit.

An hour later Adamo, Aurora, Roman, and I were square in the middle of the celebrations. A fire roared up into the sky and blasted us with heat. I held Roman’s hand tightly as he tugged to get closer to the raging flames.

“Someone was too fond of fire accelerant,” Aurora mused as she sipped at her Coke. While Adamo and I weren’t a stickler for rules, we’d given our word to Fabiano that we’d watch his daughter closely, so we didn’t allow her to have any alcohol.

A couple racers had checked Aurora out when she first appeared in camp, but one look from Adamo and a gentle reminder from me that her father was the Camorra’s Enforcer stopped any interest the male camp population might have had in her.

Roman yanked even harder at my arm and pointed at the flames with his free hand. “I want to watch the fire!”

“You can watch it from here,” I said, then turned to Adamo. “I wish he was less reckless.”

Adamo chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Did you really think a kid of ours would be the cautious type?”

Aurora hid a smile behind her can of Coke. A moment later she joined the dancing crowd. She’d borrowed one of my crop tops and combined it with baggy jeans and white sneakers covered with drawings in permanent marker, looking as if she belonged here and not in an elite high school. Adamo’s vigilant gaze followed her briefly, but when he saw that she was surrounded by pit girls, and that the guys kept a respectful distance, he locked eyes with me again.

Roman’s frustration rose as I kept him in place. His dark eyes sent me a reproachful look, as if he couldn’t believe I dared to restrict his desire for freedom so shamelessly. Adamo hoisted him up over his head and positioned him on his shoulders. I used my now free hand to grab a beer from the drinks table and took a sip while Adamo began to rock to the music, moving closer to the fire, much to Roman’s delight. His excited laughter made me smile and I followed along, my body losing itself to the fast beat of the music.

Adamo and I celebrated like this for two hours before we took our leave shortly before midnight with a sleeping Roman. He hung limply over Adamo’s shoulder, his mouth slack in sleep.

Our days of partying until the early morning hours until we stumbled toward our tent in a drunk haze were over since I’d become pregnant with Roman. Now two beers already created a buzz in my body that only half a bottle of vodka had done in the past. Aurora followed us since she wasn’t allowed to party by herself. “Can you get him ready for bed?” I asked. “We’d like to watch the stars for a bit.” Aurora smiled affirmatively before she took Roman from us and went into the motorhome.