Twisted Pride: Chapter 3

I woke in a car, curled into myself, half tangled in my dress. Fabiano was in the backseat beside me but didn’t look at me. Instead, he was checking the rear window. Another man sat in the front behind the wheel and beside him was Remo.

I wasn’t sure if they’d given me another tranquilizer or if my body had trouble fighting the effects of the first injection. I hadn’t eaten all day and hardly had anything to drink. A low moan slipped past my lips.

Fabiano and Remo both looked down at me. Remo’s dark eyes sent a shiver of fear down my spine, but Fabiano’s gaze didn’t offer any consolation either. I closed my eyes again, hating how vulnerable I felt.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been driving, but the next time I woke we were in a helicopter. I struggled into a sitting position. The strip with hotels and casinos spread out below, and my stomach constricted as the helicopter started its descent over Las Vegas. I didn’t say a word to either Fabiano or Remo, and they didn’t talk to me either. The tension was still palpable in the helicopter, but they had escaped from the Outfit and now I was in Las Vegas. In Camorra territory. At their mercy.

The moment we landed, Fabiano helped me out of the helicopter while Remo talked to someone on the phone. I needed to wash my face and clear my head so I could think straight again. I had been in my wedding dress for almost twenty-four hours. I felt sticky and sluggish and exhausted. And underneath it all a terror I had trouble containing throbbed inside of me.

I was pushed into another car, and eventually we pulled up in front of a shabby strip club called the Sugar Trap.

Fabiano gripped my arm again as Remo went ahead without a single glance at me.

“Fabi,” I tried, but he tightened his hold. “I need to go to the bathroom and wash my face. I don’t feel good.”

He led me inside the deserted strip club toward the ladies’ room and followed me inside to wait at the washbasins. Remo had ignored me mostly, but I had a feeling that would change soon.

I went to the toilet, hating that I knew Fabiano could hear me. There was nothing I could have used as a weapon, and even if there were, how would that help me surrounded by Camorrista? I dropped my skirt when I was done, breathing deeply, trying to hide my emotions.

“Serafina,” came Fabiano’s warning voice. “Don’t make me get you out of there. You won’t like it.”

Straightening my shoulders, I came back out, feeling shaky from dehydration.

I bent over the washbasin and washed my face then drank a few gulps of water.

“You can have a coke from the bar,” Fabiano said. Before I could say anything, he gripped me by the arm and dragged me out. My bare feet ached. I must have cut them on the forest ground. My eyes flitted around the room. It wasn’t deserted anymore. As if drawn out by the commotion, several scantily clad women had gathered at the bar.

They avoided looking at me, and I realized I couldn’t hope for their help. Not a single person in Las Vegas would probably risk helping me.

“Coke,” Fabiano barked at a dark-skinned man behind the bar, who grabbed a bottle, opened it, and handed it to Fabiano. The man purposely wasn’t looking at me.

Good Lord. Where had they taken me? What kind of hellhole was Las Vegas?

“Drink,” Fabiano said, holding the bottle out for me. I took it and had a few long sips. The cold, sweet liquid seemed to revive my brain and body.

“Come.” Fabiano led me through a door and along a bare-walled corridor toward another door. When he opened it and stepped inside with me, my stomach revolted.

Inside were two unknown men, both of them Falcones, I assumed. All of them were tall, with hard expressions and this air of unbridled cruelty that they were famous for. One of them had gray eyes and looked older than the other guy. I tried to remember their names, but then my eyes met Remo’s and my mind turned blank.

The Camorra Capo had shed his shirt. There was a fresh wound on his left side that had been stitched up, but there was still blood around it. My pulse stuttered in my veins at the sight of his muscles and scars.

“Your twin almost got me there,” Remo said with a dark laugh. “But not enough to stop me from capturing his beloved sister.” He said beloved like it was something filthy, something worthless.

Fabiano released me and joined the other men, leaving me standing in the middle of the room like a piece of meat that needed inspecting. Dread settled in my bones because maybe that was exactly what I was to them. Meat.

Remo pointed at the gray-eyed man. “That’s my brother Nino.” Then he gestured at the younger man beside him. “And my brother Savio.”

Remo stalked closer, every muscle in his upper body taut, as if he was a predator about to pounce. I stood my ground. I wouldn’t give him an inch. I wouldn’t give him anything. Not my fear and not a single tear. He couldn’t force those from me. I didn’t kid myself thinking that I could stop him from taking anything else.

“Serafina Cavallaro.” My name was a caress on his lips as he slowly walked around me. He stopped close behind me so I couldn’t see him.

I suppressed a shiver. “Not Cavallaro. That’s my uncle’s name, not mine.”

Remo’s breath fanned over my neck. “In every regard that matters, you are a Cavallaro.”

I dug my nails into my palms. Nino’s gray eyes followed the movement without a flicker of emotion on his face. Fabiano perched on the desk, looking at the man behind me but not me. Savio regarded me with a mix of curiosity and calculation.

I didn’t say anything, only stared stubbornly ahead. Remo circled me and stopped in front of me. He was a tall man, and I wished for my heels. I wasn’t exactly small, but barefoot only the top of my head reached his chin. I lifted my head slightly, trying to appear taller.

Remo’s mouth twitched. “I hear you were supposed to marry your fiancé, Danilo Mancini, yesterday,” he said with a twisted grin. “So I robbed you of your wedding night.”

I remembered Mom’s consoling words. That Danilo would be good to me. That I didn’t have to be scared of him claiming his rights after our wedding. And Samuel’s words that he’d hunt down Danilo if he didn’t treat me like a lady.

As I stared up into the face of Remo Falcone, my worry of having sex with Danilo seemed ridiculous. The Camorra wouldn’t be good to me. The name of their Capo was spoken in hushed, terrified whispers even among women in the Outfit. And a terror unlike anything I’d ever encountered gripped me, but I forced it down. Pride was the only weapon I had, and I would hold on to it until the very end.

“I wonder if you let your fiancé have a taste before your wedding,” Remo murmured, his voice a low vibrato full of threat, his dark eyes raking over me.

Indignation filled me. How dare he suggest something like that? “Of course not,” I said coldly. “The first kiss of a honorable Outfit woman happens on her wedding day.”

His grin widened, wolf-like, and I realized my mistake. He’d led me into a trap. My own pride a weapon he used against me.

REMO

She held her head high in spite her mistake. Her long blond hair trailed down her back. Cool blue eyes assessed me like I wasn’t worth her attention. Perfect.

Highborn and about to take a deep fall.

“So proud and cold,” I said, trailing a finger down her cheek and throat. “Just like good ol’ Uncle Dante.” She turned her face away with a disgusted expression.

I laughed. “Oh yes, that stupid Outfit pride. I can’t wait to rid you of it.”

“I’ll take that pride to the grave with me,” she said haughtily.

I leaned even closer, my body lightly pressing up against hers. “Killing you is the last thing on my mind, believe me.” I let my eyes travel the length of her body. “There are far more entertaining things I can think of.”

Terror flashed over her face, only briefly, then it was gone. But I saw it. So death didn’t bother the girl, or so she thought, but the idea of being touched by me put a chink into that prideful exterior.

“So you have never kissed a man before,” I mused, leaning in so close that our lips were almost touching.

She stood her ground, but a slight tremor went through her body. She pressed her lips together, refusing an answer.

“This will be fun.”

“My family and fiancé will tear down Las Vegas if you hurt me.”

“Oh, I hope they do, so I can bathe in their blood,” I said. “But I doubt you’ll be worth their trouble once I’m done with you. Or will your fiancé settle for the leftovers of another man?”

She finally took a step back.

My smile pulled wider. Her eyes darted to something behind me. To someone. I followed her gaze to Fabiano. His eyes met mine, his expression hard and unrelenting, but I knew him inside out. He’d known Serafina as a child, had played with her. There was a hint of strain in his eyes, but he wouldn’t come to her aid, neither would Nino or Savio.

I turned back around to her. “Nobody will save you, so you better stop hoping for it.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I decide what to hope for. You might rule over Las Vegas and over these men, but you don’t rule over me, Remo Falcone.”

Never before had someone spat out my name like that, and it sent a fucking thrill through me.

“Oh, Serafina,” I said darkly. “That’s where you’re wrong, and I will prove it to you.”

“And I will prove you wrong.” Her blue eyes held mine, back in control, back to being her prideful self. But she had given me an opening earlier, had shown me a crack in her mask, and she couldn’t undo it. I knew how to get under her skin.

“As much as I enjoy chitchatting with you, I need to remember the purpose of why you are here. And that’s to pay back your uncle Dante.”

A flash of fear in those proud eyes. I let my gaze travel the length of her, over her torn and bloody wedding dress.

“We need to send your uncle a message, a nice video of you,” I murmured. I nodded toward Fabiano. “Take her into the basement. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” I wanted to see how he’d react.

Fabiano’s jaw tensed but he gave a terse nod. He grabbed Serafina’s wrist, and she tensed but didn’t fight him, not like she would have undoubtedly fought me. He began to tug her along. She didn’t beg him like I thought she would. Instead, she gave me another disgusted look. She thought she could defy me, thought she could hold on to her pride and anger. I would show her why I had become Capo of the Camorra.

“What are you going to do to her?” Savio asked, trying to sound unfazed, but he wasn’t like Nino and me. He had some humanity left in him.

“What I said. Let her speak a message to her Uncle Dante … and record some additional material.”

“So you’re going to fuck her for the camera?” Savio asked.

I glanced at Nino, who watched me with narrowed eyes as if he, too, wasn’t sure about my motives. I smiled. “Don’t spoil my surprise. We’ll all watch the video together once it’s done.”

I gave them a nod and headed downstairs. The moment I entered the corridor in the basement, Fabiano stepped out of the last door and closed it. His eyes settled on me. He met me halfway and gripped my arm. I raised my eyebrows.

“Serafina’s virginity can be used as leverage against Dante and Danilo.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thank you for your input, Fabiano. I am Capo. I’ve thought my plan through. Don’t worry.”

“Have you?” Fabiano muttered, and I brought us nose to nose.

“Careful. You’ve betrayed me for a woman once before. Do not make it a habit.”

Fabiano shook his head. “Fuck. I won’t betray you. I went to Indianapolis with you and kidnapped Serafina. I didn’t hunt down my father like I wanted to. I put her in your fucking cell for you. I am loyal, Remo.”

“Good,” I said, stepping back. “Serafina is my captive, and I decide what happens to her, understood?”

“Understood,” Fabiano said, gritting his teeth. “Can I go to Leona now?”

“Go. I’ll have Simeone watch her cell tonight.”

“He’s a fucking pervert, Remo.”

“He also knows I’ll cut his dick off if he goes against my orders. Now go have fun with your girl while I take care of mine.”