Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(97)

“I know you aren’t thirty yet, so your second requirement isn’t fulfilled, but I can’t wait another five years. I’d say we’re good to go…” I fumbled inside my jeans pocket and pulled out a discarded silver chewing gum wrapper.

Dinara let out a disbelieving laugh but didn’t comment. I formed the wrapper into a makeshift ring, then took her hand again. “Dinara Mikhailov, will you marry me?” I held up the wrapper ring, which glittered in the headlights, making it look more sturdy than it was.

“You are out of your mind!” Dinara exclaimed, but her eyes were soft and she had trouble fighting her smile.



I lifted the ring a bit higher. “I’m afraid I need an answer.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, she said, “Yes.”

I pushed the wrapper ring on her finger, then staggered to my feet and wrapped my arms around her. I kissed her fiercely as she pressed close to me.

“For a second I worried you’d say no.”

“For a second I considered saying no. I really love our life of sin, without commitment, freespirited and wild.”

I looked into her eyes. “Then why didn’t you?” Dinara and I had never seriously talked about marriage. She wasn’t like some girls who dreamed about a big wedding and a princess dress. If I’d had more time planning this moment, I probably would have gotten cold feet. But she had said yes, to me, to us, to forever.





Adamo grinned as if he’d won the jackpot. I stretched out my hand and admired the silver wrapper ring around my finger, not answering his question yet. “I’m glad you put so much effort into our engagement ring,” I teased him. I didn’t really care. I rarely wore jewelry, even though I owned a shocking amount of it, all gifted by my father or family in Russia. I hadn’t taken any of my jewelry with me, and I didn’t miss it. The only things I really wanted to have with me were my Fabergé eggs, but a motorhome wasn’t a good place for valuable pieces of art.

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. He always cut it at the beginning of the season but allowed it to grow in the months that followed. “I thought you didn’t care about jewelry.”

He actually sounded worried. “I don’t,” I whispered. “This is the perfect ring for us.”

Adamo chuckled. “I’m not sure I agree. You’ll get a better ring soon.” He paused, raising his eyebrows. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Why did I say yes? For a long time, I’d been against marriage, considered it superfluous and restricting. The mere idea of binding myself to a person like that had made me nervous, but when Adamo had popped the question, my body hadn’t reacted with a cold sweat or feeling of nausea. It had felt inexplicably right. “Because I can’t imagine ever living without you again, so we might as well make it official. I realized we were already committed, and marriage to you doesn’t mean we can’t be wild and freespirited anymore.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Adamo joked.

I boxed his shoulder before I kissed him hard. “I love you, and I love being reckless with you, and I know we can keep being reckless even when we’re married and that’s perfect.”

“And I love you.” He took my hand and inspected the ring he’d put together. “We can go ring shopping next time we pass a city.”

I pursed my lips in thought. I couldn’t really see myself with a wedding ring. “Do we have to get an actual ring? Can’t we get something else that shows we’re together? Or maybe we just don’t have anything but the love in our hearts.”

Adamo smirked. “Nice try. I want a sign of you being mine for everyone to see.”

“You’ll be mine too, remember?”

“I don’t want to forget.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “No ring. But if you have a better suggestion, I might be open for it.”

Adamo thought about it for a while before a grin spread on his face. He still managed to look like a boyish daredevil when he gave me that look.

“How about we get a wedding tattoo? Nino could do the design and inking.”

My brows rose in surprise. I actually liked the idea. “Why not? At least that way we can’t lose it.”

“Perfect.”

“You realize we can’t have a big celebration, right?” The Camorra and Bratva still barely tolerated each other, and so far Adamo’s and my unusual

relationship hadn’t caused my father any trouble, but a wedding feast that involved both our families might change that.

Adamo shrugged. “I don’t really care about a big party. This is about us.

For all I care, it can only be you and I, and it would be the perfect wedding.”

“We could marry in one of those chapels in Vegas. You know, the ones where Elvis seals the bond.”

Adamo obviously had to stifle laughter. “Not Elvis, but we can marry in a chapel in Vegas if that’s what you want.”

“It would fit, don’t you think?”

Adamo dropped his forehead against mine, smiling crookedly. “A girl who hates Valentine’s Day, who hates rings and who doesn’t want a nerveracking wedding feast. I’m pretty sure you were heaven sent.”