Twisted Pride: Chapter 6

Nino’s expression was strained, but he wasn’t about to lose his shit again. He was staring into my eyes, no longer at Serafina. He swallowed then the cold mask took hold of his face and he straightened. My eyes fell to the scars on his wrist covered by our tattoo, then to similar scars on my skin, not as straight, not as focused. I almost touched the fucking scar over my eyebrow like I’d done in the weeks after…

“You will have to stitch her up yourself. You played this game and lost. You underestimated your opponent,” he drawled then left, leaving me standing there, fucking furious and fucking ecstatic.

I turned around slowly. Serafina was swaying but trying to stand tall. Her chin was covered in blood from the wound in her lip, from biting down on it to stop a scream. She didn’t give me a single one. My gaze dipped lower. Her nightgown was stained with the blood still trickling from the cut in her arm, which she cradled against her chest.

She was supposed to choose differently like all the other women always did. Instead, she’d caught me off guard, had taken the painful road, had forced my fucking hand. She hadn’t given me the triumph of offering her body to me on a silver platter in front of Dante fucking Cavallaro and her fiancé. Nino was right. I’d underestimated my opponent because I compared her to the women I’d dealt with so far, but Serafina was nothing like them. Proud and noble. I wouldn’t underestimate her again.

And I would get that fucking scream. I would get more than that.

My eyes were drawn to her arm. Why had she chosen that spot? When I looked back up, Serafina met my gaze with one of triumph. She knew she had won.

I stalked toward her, anger simmering under my skin. She tensed, swayed again but didn’t fall. I took her arm and inspected the wound. It wasn’t deep. I hadn’t put enough pressure behind the blade to cut deep. I hadn’t wanted to cut her at all, which was a new experience. Seeing the blood on her perfect skin didn’t give me the deep satisfaction it usually did.

“How did it feel to hurt me? Does it excite you?” she asked fiercely.

I leaned close, cupping her chin. She held her breath as I trailed my tongue over her lower lip, tasting her blood. I smiled darkly. “Not nearly as much as this.”

She jerked back and stumbled, but I caught her, because this wasn’t the fall she would take.

“We need to treat your wound.”

She didn’t protest and followed me silently back upstairs to the first floor, and my grip on her arm held her steady. I led her into my bedroom then my bathroom, where I kept the only medical kit in my wing. Nino was the one who usually handled this kind of shit. She leaned against the sink. “You should sit down,” I told her.

“I prefer to stand.”

I let go of her and she clutched the edge of the sink to steady herself. I bent down to retrieve the medical kit, but my eyes were drawn to the high slit in her nightgown revealing a long, slender leg. She shifted so her front faced me. I smirked up at her, but her skin was pale and a fine sheen covered her face. I grabbed the medical kit and straightened, regarding her more closely to judge whether she was going to pass out or not. She narrowed her eyes at me and straightened her shoulders with obvious effort.

The corner of my mouth twitched. I took out tissue adhesive. The wound wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. I couldn’t remember the last time a cut from me didn’t lead to stitches—or a funeral.

I took out disinfectant spray, and she stiffened but didn’t make a sound when the stinging spray hit her wound, but she did bite down on her lower lip again.

“If you keep doing that, the result will be twice as painful.”

She sent me a scathing look but released her bottom lip.

I began to put the adhesive on her wound, feeling a strange aversion to seeing the cut I had inflicted. I couldn’t quite define the feeling; it was foreign to me.

“So is this how it’s going to be? You cutting me open and stitching me back together?” she seethed.

“I’m not stitching you up. I’m gluing you together.”

She didn’t say anything, but I could feel her eyes on me. She tapped my forearm with my Camorra tattoo, brushing the crisscrossing scars there. “I wonder who inflicted those cuts,” she mused.

I froze and my head shot up. She held my gaze with the same look of triumph I had seen in the basement.

“I wonder who stitched you up afterward? Did you and Nino cut each other in some twisted brotherly ceremony and stitch each other up when you were done? You have the same cuts. Maybe I should ask him.”

I pushed her against the sink with my body, my hands clamping down on the marble counter as I shook with rage … and other emotions I would never allow.

Serafina looked at me, despite the fear taking over her perfect features.

“Never mention those scars again. And you won’t talk to Nino about this, not a single word, understood?” I growled.

She pressed her lips together, not saying a word. A droplet of blood squeezed past her lips and trickled down on her chin.

Exhaling, I stepped back, grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. I grabbed her chin but she reached for my wrist.

“Hold still,” I ordered, and she dropped her hand and let me clean her chin. Then I took a closer look at her lip. Her teeth had only nicked the upper layer of skin. “You are lucky. This will heal on its own.” I was so close to her, her scent hit me again.

Her voice snapped me out of it. “How long will you keep me here?”

“Who says I’m ever letting you go?” I asked in a low voice before I drew back and led her out of my room.

After returning Serafina to the guest room, which I locked this time, I was about to start doing my daily training, kicking the punching bag, when Kiara stormed into the game room. Nino was close behind her and tried stopping her, but she tore away from his grip and stalked toward me, looking furious.

I turned to her, raising my eyebrows. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of me and shoved me hard, her eyes brimming with tears. I caught her wrists because she looked like she would slap me next, and that was something we both didn’t want to happen.

A second later, a steely grip closed around my forearm. “Release her now,” Nino ordered.

I met his gaze, not liking his tone one bit. His grip tightened further. A warning. A threat. We had never really fought against each other, for good reason, and I would lay my fucking life down before I would allow it to happen. But Kiara could be the reason why Nino might risk it.

Savio rose slowly and even Adamo put down his controller.

I let go of her wrists, and Nino unfastened his hold on my arm. He tilted his head in acknowledgment, a silent thank-you.

“What are you doing to that girl?” Kiara asked forcefully.

I narrowed my eyes. “I can’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It is my business if you are forcing yourself on a woman,” she hissed, but her voice shook.

“I’m Capo. I rule over this city. I decide what happens to the people in my territory.”

I turned to face the punching bag, but Kiara squeezed in front of it. Fury burned through me, but I shoved it down my throat despite the fucking bitter taste. She was Nino’s. She was a fucking Falcone. I grabbed her by the waist and set her to the side like a fucking doll before I faced the punching bag once more. She had frozen under my touch as usual. Unfortunately, that lasted only one fucking second.

She stepped in front of me again.

“Kiara,” Nino said in warning, but she glared at him.

“No! Nobody protected me. I won’t stand by when the same happens to someone else.”

“Get out of my way,” I said in a low voice, feeling my own anger rising.

“Or what?” she whispered harshly.

“I said get out of my way, Kiara.”

She took a step toward me, bringing us almost chest to chest. “And I said no. It’s a mountain I’m willing to die on. I don’t care about your vendetta with the Outfit or what happened in your past. An innocent woman won’t suffer for it.”

I couldn’t believe she mentioned our fucking past. Nino should have never told her about it!

Nino moved closer, watching me, not Kiara. Fucking dread flickered in his eyes—something I still had to get used to because my brother had always been emotionless until he met Kiara.

I tried stepping past his wife, but she grabbed my wrist. My gaze darted to her thin fingers then back up to her face. Nino shifted slightly, muscles tensing. I gave him a wry smile. Was he thinking about attacking me? His expression stayed cautious. I met his gaze and twisted my free hand so he saw my tattoo and the crisscrossing scars beneath it. He should know that no matter how infuriating his wife was, I’d never hurt her. His brows drew together, and he relaxed with a small nod.

Kiara tightened her hold. “You protected me from my uncle when he wanted to humiliate me by dancing with me on my wedding. You helped Nino kill him—”

I interrupted her, growing tired of her emotionality. “You can calm down. I want Serafina to come to my bed willingly and not by force. So you can fucking release me now.”

She regarded me closely. “She won’t. Why should she? You kidnapped her.”

“And you were forced into an unwanted marriage to my brother. What’s the difference?”

She removed her fingers from my wrist. Nino wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s not the same,” she whispered.

“The only difference is that in your case your family decided who got you, while Serafina’s family had no say in the matter. Neither of you had a real choice.”

She shook her head and peered up at Nino with so much fucking love I knew I could never hurt a single hair on her body. She returned her gaze to mine. “Let me talk to her,” she said, not asking but ordering.

“Is that a fucking order, Kiara?” I asked in a threatening voice. Maybe she needed reminding that I was her Capo.

Nino squeezed her shoulder, but she held my gaze then stepped forward out of his grip and closer to me. “No,” she said softly, looking at me with those big brown eyes as if that would warm my heart. “I am asking you for permission as your sister-in-law and as a Falcone.”

“Fuck,” I snarled and glared at Nino. “Couldn’t you have chosen an airheaded wife? She’s as good at manipulation as you are.”

Nino’s mouth twitched and he looked proud. Fucking proud.

“I’m not sure why I put up with all of you,” I muttered.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to talk to her?” Kiara asked hopefully.

“Yes. But I should warn you … Serafina isn’t as docile as you are. If I were you, I’d watch my back. She might end up attacking you to save herself.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said then turned on her heel and headed straight for my wing. Nino followed her because he was obviously concerned for her safety.

I released a harsh breath and kicked the punching bag with so much force the hook ripped out of the ceiling and the bag crashed to the ground.

Savio chuckled as he came up to me. “At first, I really loathed the idea of having Kiara under our roof, but I enjoy her presence more every day.”

“Why don’t you call someone to fix this fucking bag instead of grating on my nerves.”

Savio grinned. “Will do, Capo. I know someone you can release your pent-up energy on. I was supposed to train with Adamo. Why don’t you take over? The kid needs a good ass kicking.”

“Why don’t I just hang you from a hook and use you as a punching bag instead?”

Savio laughed and sauntered off.

Staring at the mess on the floor for another moment, I turned around to Adamo, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring. “Come on, kiddo. Train with me.”

Adamo and I had never trained together unless you counted the mock fights I’d entertained him with when he was a small kid and didn’t hate my guts yet.

For a moment, he looked like he was going to refuse, but then he pushed up to his feet. He trudged after me in that annoying way he’d adopted recently, just to drive me up the walls. I grabbed my keys then tossed them toward Adamo. “Catch.”

He did, frowning.

“You’re going to drive us there.”

“Really?” he asked and for once wasn’t glaring at me.

“Really. Now move. I don’t have all day.”

Adamo hurried past me, not trudging, and I followed after him, shaking my head and smiling. Nothing got that kid as excited as driving cars or rather racing them.

When I arrived in the driveway, he was already behind the wheel of my new neon green Lamborghini Aventador, grinning like the cat that got the fucking cream. The moment my ass hit the passenger seat, he revved the engine and we shot down the driveway.

“There’s a gate at the end. You remember that, right?” I muttered, buckling up.

Adamo hit the button and the gates slid open, and we raced through them with about an inch between the side mirrors and the unrelenting steel.

I shook my head but Adamo didn’t slow down. We weaved through traffic, and honks followed us everywhere. A police car shot out of a side alley and started chasing us with sirens howling and lights flashing.

“Oh man,” Adamo whined, hitting the breaks and pulling over.

The officer got out, hand on his gun, and strolled toward us while his colleague stayed back, his gun at his side. That was the problem with a new car.

Adamo let the window down, and the officer looked at him. “Get out of the car.”

I leaned forward, my forearm with my tattoo propped up against the dashboard and smiled darkly at the man. “Unfortunately, Officer, we have somewhere we need to be.”

The police officer registered my tattoo then my face and took a step back. “This is a misunderstanding. Safe travels.”

I nodded and sank back against the seat. “Drive.”

Adamo looked at me with a hint of admiration in his eyes. Then he pulled away from the curb in a slower pace but still too fast. His mood soured the moment we got out of the car in front of the abandoned casino that served as our gym.

I waited for Adamo in the cage, but he took his sweet ass time getting ready. When he finally shuffled toward me, I really wished he were someone else because I wanted to viciously destroy my opponent. Adamo climbed in and closed the door before he faced me.

He had grown these last few months. He was still much scrawnier than Nino and me, and even Savio, but he was filling out nicely despite his reluctance to fight. His arms hung limply at his side as he watched me with apprehension.

“Come on, kiddo. Show me what you got.”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” he grumbled.

I smiled challengingly. “Make me. So far nothing I’ve seen has hinted at you being more than a sulking kid.”

He curled his hands to fists, eyes narrowing.

Better.

“At least I don’t enjoy hurting girls.”

So that was what had his panties in a bunch. “You don’t enjoy doing anything else with them either,” I taunted, trying to finally get him to act on his anger. I couldn’t give any less fucks if Adamo was a virgin or not. I didn’t understand it one bit, but he could fuck whomever, whenever, however he wanted.

“I like girls.”

“Not their pussies, obviously.”

He flushed bright red. We still had a lot of work to do.

“Have you kissed a girl at least?” I took a step closer to him.

He looked away and my smile widened. “Who was it? A girl from school? Or a whore after all?”

His eyes flashed with anger, and he charged at me. His kick was surprisingly well placed, but I blocked it with both of my forearms then punched Adamo’s side hard—not nearly as hard as I wanted, though. He gasped but still sent several punches my way.

We found a good rhythm, and I could see Adamo getting into it, as if this was one of his annoying video games. I had to admit I enjoyed the sparring. It wasn’t more than that, though, because if I had really fought Adamo, the kid would have been on the ground. Eventually, we leaned against the cage, sipping water and dripping sweat.

“I didn’t think you’d hold back. I thought you wanted to kick my ass because I’m a fucking disappointment in your eyes.”

I lowered the bottle. “What makes you think I held back?”

He snorted. “You are the strongest fighter I know. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Not yet. Maybe one day. And you aren’t a disappointment.”

He shook his head. “I’ll never be like you and Nino or even Savio.”

“I don’t want you to be like any of us. I only want you to be a Falcone and be proud of it.”

Adamo stared at me with a frown then looked down at his bottle. “Can we do another round?”

“Sure,” I said, even if I was eager to return to Serafina.

“Don’t hold back as much this time,” Adamo said.

My lips pulled wide, and I set the bottle down. I should have fought with Adamo before.

SERAFINA

I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, worrying about my family, especially Samuel. He was so protective of me, what if he did something stupid like attack and get himself killed? I wanted to be saved but if something happened to Sam, I wouldn’t survive. I’d rather suffer pain and endure Remo’s presence than see my brother get hurt.

A heavy weight settled in my stomach when I remembered the look in his eyes when Remo had put the knife against my skin. That look had hurt so much more than the shallow cut. But the cut had given me an important piece of information about Remo. He had a weakness, and it had something to do with those scars and his brothers.

Steps sounded in front of my door and someone knocked. I sat up, surprised. Nobody had bothered to knock.

The lock sounded and the door swung open as I stood, and a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a red summer dress, stepped in. She was shorter than me, and must be the source of the clothes Remo had brought me to wear; it explained why the maxi dress I was wearing ended mid-calf.

I had never met her, but I knew who she was. Not a single person in our world didn’t know her.

“Kiara Vitiello,” I said. The poor Famiglia woman who was thrown to the Falcone wolves to be devoured. Everyone had heard of that union. It had been the gossip of the year among Outfit women. I had only felt pity for the girl, but she didn’t appear as if she needed or wanted it.

“Kiara Falcone now, but yes, that’s me.” She looked over her shoulder with a small frown, and I followed her gaze, finding Nino Falcone standing behind her.

“You don’t have to stay. Serafina and I are going to talk. She poses no danger to me.”

He was worried I’d attack his wife? Maybe using her as a human safety shield would have gotten me out of the mansion, but I wasn’t that brave. If I failed, I knew what that would mean because the look in Nino’s eyes sent an icy shiver down my spine.

“I will stay,” he said firmly, looking straight at me as he walked in, closed the door, and leaned against the wall. “And if you make a move toward my wife, the consequences will be very unpleasant.”

Kiara’s cheeks turned red. She gave me an apologetic smile before stepping close to him, touching his chest. I didn’t hear what she was saying, but Nino’s expression remained stoic. He shook his head once, and she sighed.

She came toward me. I eyed her warily. Not only had she been a Vitiello, but she was now a Falcone. Neither were names that set me at ease.

“I’m sorry. He’s very protective,” she said with a small smile.

I gave Nino the once-over. “That’s obvious.”

His expression remained a cold mask. Remo would have given me his twisted smile or that scary signature look, and I had to admit I preferred it to Nino’s unreadable face, because I had no doubt that he was just as brutal and messed up as his brother but even harder to read.

Kiara extended her hand. “Call me Kiara.”

I hesitated then took it. “Serafina.”

Her eyes fell to my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not your apology to hand out,” I told her as I returned to the bed and sank down.

“I fear it’s the only one you’re going to get,” she said with a hint of disapproval. At least she seemed appalled by her crazy brother-in-law hurting me.

“I don’t want Remo’s apology. I want him lying at my feet in his own blood.”

I sent Nino a smile, gauging his reaction, but his expression didn’t change. He might as well have been carved from ice. If he couldn’t be taunted into carelessness, my chances of getting past him were nil. If I ever tried an escape attempt, I would have to make sure he wasn’t close by.

Kiara’s eyes widened a tad as she perched on the edge of my bed, smoothing out her dress. “I think you will have to join the end of the queue. The world is full of people who want the same.”

Oh, I liked her. Stifling a smile, I asked, “Are you one of them?”

She pursed her lips. “No, I’m not.”

“He’s the one hurting you then,” I said with a nod toward her emotionless husband, only now something dangerous flickered in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t indifferent to his wife.

Kiara glanced at Nino, and the smile tugging at her lips surprised me. “Nino would never hurt me. He is my husband.”

She sounded honest and more … she sounded in love. I’d heard the rumors of what had happened to her and what the Falcones had done to her uncle. Maybe she was just grateful.

“Why are you here?” I asked eventually.

“I thought you’d like female company.”

“I’d like to return to my family, to my home. I’d like Remo to stop his twisted games. That’s what I’d like,” I whispered harshly, feeling bad for snapping at her but not being able to help myself.

She nodded. “I know.”

“I doubt you’ve come to offer your help. You are loyal to the Falcones.”

Again, her eyes moved to Nino. “I am. They are my family.”

I looked away, thinking of my own family, of Samuel, and my heart clenched tightly. She startled me when she leaned closer, and Nino, too, tensed and straightened. Despite my apparent apprehension, she brought her mouth close to my ear and whispered, “These men are cruel and brutal, but it’s not all there is to them. I think you can get under Remo’s skin. I wish it for both of you.” She pulled away and straightened. “I’ll see what I can do so you are allowed to spend your days outside of this room. We could sit in the garden. There’s no reason why your captivity should be more unpleasant than absolutely necessary.”

I stared at Kiara. She surprised me, but if she really thought anyone could get under Remo Falcone’s skin, then life in Vegas had twisted her brain.