Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(87)

“Dad,” I tried again, and finally he met my gaze. His expression showed regret, as if he’d already made up his mind and knew what it would do to me.

I staggered forward but one of his men held me back. “Dad,” I whispered desperately. “If you do this, I can’t forgive you.”

“You should leave, Katinka. This is between me and Adamo.”

“No,” I growled. “It’s not. This is about my life, about my heart. You can’t dismiss me as if I’m a little child.”

Dad motioned at one of his soldiers who made a move as if to grab my arm and lead me away. I slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare!”

I reached inside my pocket, my fingers closing around my phone. Maybe I should leave and call Remo. But what purpose would that serve? He wouldn’t be quick enough to send help.

Adamo took a step closer to my father. I didn’t detect a hint of fear in his expression, there was only determination. “I waded through blood for your daughter, and I’ll do it again, even if it’s my own, because Dinara is worth shedding every last drop of my blood for. I won’t give her up, no matter what you do or what you say. And if it takes torture and death to prove my feelings for your daughter, then that’s what I’m willing to do. I love her and no force on this earth can shake that, so if you don’t want me to be with your daughter, if you want me to give her up, then you’ll have to end my life today.”

I sucked in a shaky breath, unable to process the words Adamo had said.

Dima had lived to protect me. He, too, would have died for me, but his loyalty had been for my father, and one reason, maybe even the main reason for his willingness to die for me, had stemmed from his duty toward his Pakhan, but Adamo risked everything only because of me. He opposed my father in his own territory for me. He accepted death to prove his love. I’d tried to marginalize my feelings for the man before me, had tried to tell myself they’d wane with time, but now that Adamo showed the courage to proclaim his feelings in such a risky manner, it would have been absolutely cowardly of me to pretend I didn’t love him. I didn’t want to be without him, not another day. The last few days had been hell, filled with a new kind of nightmare of losing Adamo every single night. I’d woken bathed in sweat, with my heart beating in my throat.

I felt shaky under the force of my emotions, under the display of emotion on Adamo’s face. He loved me fiercely. Recklessly. Definitely foolishly.

I slanted a look at my father, terrified of his reaction to such a forceful appearance. Dad expected respect as Pakhan and was used to people showing it to him. Of course, Adamo wasn’t one of his subjects but I wasn’t sure how much that mattered to him.

Instead of the dreaded fury, respect flickered in his eyes. Respect for Adamo’s words. Even Dima looked less hostile toward Adamo. Surprise and relief washed through me. Maybe we could get out of this in one piece. If Dad hurt or killed Adamo, I doubted I’d heal again.

“You speak Russian,” Dad said matter-of-factly. I could have laughed at his conversational tone as if this wasn’t a hearing determining Adamo’s fate.

“I suppose your brother Nino taught you to handle Bratva soldiers that crossed your path during your races.”

“I learned it for Dinara. To show my respect for her heritage, and yours.”

Dad kept his expression cold and hard, but I knew him better than almost anyone else. He liked Adamo, as much as a Pakhan could like a Falcone, and a protective father could like his daughter’s lover.

“Dad,” I said firmly as I headed toward Adamo. One of Dad’s men tried to stop me, but I sent him a glare and walked past him. I took Adamo’s hand and faced my father with him as a unit. “I love Adamo, and I, too, am willing to wade through blood for him. I won’t let you kill him. If you want to protect me, if you want me to find happiness and be in the light, then you’ll allow Adamo and me to be together. I can’t live without him. I won’t.” The last was a threat Dad understood too well. The day I’d almost died of an overdose haunted him to this day and even if I hadn’t tried to kill myself, Dad never really believed that. I hated blackmailing him with something like that. I wanted to live and wouldn’t try anything like that, but he didn’t know. He always worried about me.

Dad scowled at his soldiers. “Out. Now.”

Dima raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? One of us could stay…”

“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself against one enemy, Dima.

Now follow my order.”

Dima sent me a searching look, as if he considered me another enemy for my father, but then he left.

I wasn’t Dad’s enemy, would never be, but I’d stop him from killing Adamo. Once it was only the three of us, Dad walked around his desk and sat down in his chair. That he had turned his back toward Adamo could be a sign that he didn’t consider him a threat, a game of power and testosterone, but it could also be a signal of peace. I begged for the latter. I didn’t want either of the most important men in my life to get hurt, especially not by each other’s hand.

“You’re an idiot,” I whispered, looking into Adamo’s eyes.

Adamo smiled wryly. “I know.”

Dad tapped his fingers on the desk, his eyes lingering on my hand in Adamo’s. “There won’t be peace with the Camorra. That ship has sailed after the last few attacks.” Dad spoke in English, and my pulse slowed a bit more.