Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles Book 1)
Twisted Loyalties: Chapter 13

My heartbeat raced in my chest as the last tongues of pleasure ebbed away. Embarrassment slowly banished the thrilling euphoria. Fabiano didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t really sure what to say either. I hadn’t meant for things to progress this fast. To sleep in Fabiano’s bed, to have him touch me. The sensations had been wondrous, unlike anything I’d ever been capable of eliciting with my own fingers.

He peered down at me, a dark expression on his face, as if what had just happened was a mistake. I felt self-conscious under his scrutiny. It didn’t make sense that he felt unhappy about it. He hadn’t gone against his own convictions. But perhaps he had come to the realization that I wasn’t worth his attention. Perhaps I’d done something wrong, though I couldn’t really see how that was possible as I hadn’t done anything but let him touch me.

Worry filled me. Perhaps that was the problem.

I sat up. Sunlight filtered through the gap in the white curtains and past it I could catch a glimpse at the Strip. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t an Italian girl from noble upbringing.

“I should get going,” I said lightly.

Fabiano didn’t say anything, but behind his blue eyes some kind of inner conflict was raging I wasn’t in on.

I was about to slip out of bed, when his hand on my shoulder stopped me. He leaned over to me for a gentle kiss that left me breathless, then pulled back. “This is only the beginning.”

This is only the beginning. I couldn’t decide if it was promise or threat.

I slipped into Dad’s apartment, closing the door with a soft click, not wanting to wake him. But seconds after the roar of Fabiano’s engine had faded, Dad slunk out of the kitchen. He looked worse than last time I’d seen him, like he needed a long shower and a few days of sleep.

His bloodshot eyes regarded me with silent judgment. They lingered on a spot above my pulse point, and the memory of Fabiano leaving his mark there resurfaced. I placed my palm over the tender spot.

Dad shook his head. “You should have stayed with your mother.” I didn’t argue. Part of me knew he was right. I walked past him toward my bedroom. The close space felt even less like home after my night in Fabiano’s apartment. I knew I couldn’t allow myself to grow accustomed to the luxury he had at his disposal. It wasn’t something I could ever hope to have. And until now it had never been but it was hard not to want something that beautiful once you experienced it firsthand. And his tenderness, his closeness – that was the most beautiful thing of all. Something I needed, something I was scared to lose.

The memory of Fabiano’s mouth and hands on me sent a pleasant shiver through my body. That, too, was an experience I’d never thought I would want, and now I worried that I couldn’t stop wanting it.

I changed out of yesterday’s clothes and into shorts and a shirt, then swung my backpack over my shoulder and left. Until I had to start work, I’d stay elsewhere. And I already had an idea where. Now that things with Fabiano were getting more serious, I needed to replace out more about his past.

The library was quiet as I took my seat at one of the computers. I tipped Fabiano Scuderi into the search engine and hit enter. There were a few entries about Remo Falcone from recent years, especially regarding his fighting that included the occasional photo of Fabiano with beautiful society girls that sent my stomach plummeting, but over all he seemed to keep out of the public eye. But then I found older articles from more than eight years ago, which surprised me.

The articles weren’t from Las Vegas. They were from Chicago. Some of them mentioned a man called Rocco Scuderi, who was Fabiano’s father and supposedly the Consigliere of the Chicago Outfit. I still wasn’t very well informed about the mob and its terms, but even I knew that Fabiano’s father was a big deal in the Chicago mob family. From what I’d gathered the Las Vegas Camorra wasn’t getting along with the other mob families in the country, so why was Fabiano here and not in Chicago? One photo of him and his family caught my eye. It showed Fabiano with his parents and three older sisters – all three of them so beautiful and elegant, it hurt looking at them. This was what Cheryl meant when she said Italian virgins from noble upbringing.

I was nothing like them.

Only one of them, the youngest shared his dark blond hair while the eldest was almost golden and the one in the middle a red head. They were a striking family. I kept scrolling for more results and soon found articles about his sisters as well, especially the oldest sister Aria with her husband, the head of the New York Mafia, filled several pages.

I wondered why he was never talking about them. Of course I didn’t talk about my mother either, but she was a crystal meth addict and whore. The only thing that was remotely embarrassing about his family was that they were gangsters, and that definitely wasn’t the reason why Fabiano had kept them a secret so far. If I had siblings, I’d want to stay in contact with them. I’d always wanted a brother or sister at my side for support during the many nights I’d been left alone at home when my mother was out looking for johns or other ways to get money.

At last there was one article from a small Las Vegas newspaper about Fabiano titled ‘the renegade son’ that speculated about him joining the Las Vegas Camorra to become Capo. Apparently there had been a fallout with his father that made him leave Chicago and help Remo Falcone. But overall information was sparse. It didn’t give me what I really wanted, a glimpse behind the mask Fabiano displayed to the public.

The next day was December 24^th and I went to work as if it was a day like any other. I’d tried to call the rehab center, but hadn’t reached anyone. And Dad hadn’t left his room before I had to leave the bar. Merry Christmas to me. Not that I had any intention of celebrating. The bar was deserted, only a few lonely souls crouched over their drinks. “Why don’t you go early?” Cheryl asked around eight. “I can handle our two customers.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you have family to celebrate with?”

Her lips tightened. “No. Roger will pick me up around midnight for a Christmas quickie though.”

I tried to hide my pity. I knew how it infuriated me when people send me pitying looks. And it wasn’t as if my Christmas was much better. “Where is he anyway? This is the first time he isn’t in the bar.”

“He’s at home, celebrating Christmas with his daughter.”

“Daughter?” I echoed in disbelief.

Cheryl nodded. “His wife died a few years ago and he’s raising her alone.”

“Oh.” For some reason I had thought Roger didn’t have a life aside from the bar.

“Just go, Chick.”

I sighed. Dad probably wasn’t home. He’d mentioned an important race he had to watch. I grabbed my backpack, then took out the mobile Fabiano had given me yesterday so I could contact him. The only person I could think of calling was Fabiano but would he even want to spend Christmas Eve with me? He had been busy yesterday and only dropped me off at home after work without mentioning Christmas at all. I clicked his name and quickly typed a message.

Got off early. You don’t have to pick me up if you’re busy. It’s not too late for me to walk home.

I wasn’t even out of the bar when Fabiano replied.

Wait for me.

I couldn’t help the smile.

Cheryl watched me from across the room, shaking her head, and I quickly walked out into the parking lot. I knew she wouldn’t be happy if she knew how much time I was spending with Fabiano. But I was happy, despite everything.

Ten minutes later his Mercedes pulled to a stop beside me.

I got in and took my seat beside him as if it had always been like this. He didn’t move to kiss me, never had while we could be watched, but he put a hand on my knee.

“I didn’t think you’d really go through with driving me home every night,” I said, trying to ignore the way my body was warming at his touch.

Fabiano steered the car with one hand. “I’m a man of honor. I keep my promises.”

Honor. A word that had played little to no role in my life so far. My parents were unfamiliar with the concept. Honor would have gotten in the way of their addiction.

My eyes traveled down to the tattoo of the Camorra again. It scared people. Fabiano scared people. I hadn’t realized it at first, but now that I looked for the little details in people’s demeanor around him, it was impossible to miss.

Perhaps I didn’t know enough about the Camorra and Fabiano to be scared, perhaps I was foolish not to be scared.

“I thought perhaps tonight you wanted to celebrate Christmas Eve with the Falcones.” They were like his family after all.

His fingers on my knee tightened. “Remo and his brothers don’t celebrate Christmas Eve.”

“But what about your real family? You never mention them.”

Fabiano’s lips thinned out for the briefest instant before he schooled his expression into one of usual calm. “The Camorra is my family. Remo is like my brother. I don’t need any other family than that.”

I’d hoped he’d tell me more about his real family. I hesitated, unsure if I should mention that I’d found articles about them. I didn’t want to appear as if I’d stalked him, even though that was the case.

“Ask,” Fabiano said with a shrug, as usual able to read my face and the questions there.

“I found something about your family on the internet. There was a picture of you with them, and a few articles about your sisters. One of them called you the renegade son.”

His lips pulled into a sardonic smile. “Interesting twist on events they construed in that article,” he said.

“So, you didn’t leave for Las Vegas because you wanted to become Capo here?”

“I would have been happy becoming Consigliere for Dante Cavallaro and the Outfit. Back when I didn’t know anything, I’d thought it would be the ultimate honor to follow in my father’s footsteps. Now I know that there’s no honor in inheriting your position. The only way to deserve a position of power is if you’ve fought for it, if you’ve bled and suffered for it.”

“And you did,” I said. I’d seen the scars. And even without them. You didn’t become like Fabiano if life hadn’t forged you.

“I did, and so did Remo. He tore his position as Capo from the bleeding hands of the man who deemed himself capable of the job.”

“And his brothers? What about them? Is that why they all have to fight? To prove their worth.”

“That’s one reason, yes.”

It was strange that humankind thought it had come so far, that humans considered themselves superior to animals, when we, too, still followed our base instincts. We looked up to the strong, eager for a true leader, an alpha to guide our way, to take away the difficult decisions. The thrill of power struggles still captivated us – why else were sports like cage fighting or boxing so popular?

I realized we weren’t heading for my father’s apartment nor to Fabiano’s place.

“Hungry?” he asked, nodding toward the KFC drive-thru, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I nodded, wondering what he was up to.

“How about chicken for dinner and Las Vegas to ourselves?” he asked.

I smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

The car smelled of the fried chicken and fries as Fabiano drove us up to the hill he had taken me for our first date. We were probably the only people who celebrated Christmas Eve with a KFC meal but I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I’d had many better Christmas dinners in the previous years. I was glad that Fabiano wasn’t trying to imitate a traditional celebration. We parked at the very edge of the hill and stared out toward the bright city lights as we ate. “I think this is the best Christmas of my life,” I said between bites of chicken.

“I wished it weren’t,” Fabiano murmured.

I shrugged. “So you had good Christmases with your family?”

The walls came up but he gave me a reply. “When I was young, five or six, before my oldest sister left. After that, things quickly went downhill.”

He fell silent, and put down his half eaten drum.

I licked sauce off my fingers, then dropped them self-consciously when I noticed Fabiano watching me. He reached for my throat and brushed over my pulse point where he’d left a mark two days ago, his blue eyes possessive and…something gentler.

“Let’s go out for a bit. I have a blanket in the trunk.”

Fabiano got out of the car and picked up the blanket. I walked up to the hood of the car and let my eyes take in the skyline. Las Vegas looked like it always did. It was flashy and colorful and bright. It could have been any other evening than Christmas, and I was glad for it. Fabiano came up beside me and handed me the wool blanket against the cold. I wrapped it around myself. It was soft and smelled of lavender. Fabiano’s body was taut with tension, and he was looking – no, glaring down at a small parcel in his hands.

A dark blue parcel with a silver ribbon. Oh, no. Was this for me? My stomach plummeted. I didn’t have anything for him. I hadn’t even thought about it. It had been so long since I’d celebrated Christmas in any way that I hadn’t even considered buying him a present. And what could I have gotten him anyway? He had every luxury possible.

I looked up from the parcel to replace Fabiano now regarding me as if he was trying to make up his mind. Eventually he held out his hand with the present.

I didn’t take it. “You don’t have to give me anything.”

His grip on the parcel tightened. “I want it gone.”

Okay. I blinked.

I took the parcel hesitantly. “I don’t have anything for you.”

He didn’t look surprised. “You didn’t have to, Leona. It’s nothing.”

“No it’s not. Nobody has given me a Christmas present in years,” I admitted, and felt raw because of it.

Fabiano’s expression softened for the briefest moment. I opened the parcel with shaking fingers. Inside was a bracelet that looked suspiciously like gold. Small blue stones decorated it. “It’s beautiful.”

“Put it on,” he said as he sank down on the hood of his car. He had a very strange look in his eyes as he regarded the bracelet as if it had come to haunt him.

I held my arm out for him and he fastened the bracelet around my wrist. The stones flashed in the light of the car. I’d have to keep it hidden from my father, and in the bar as well. It was pathetic to think that I would rarely have an opportunity to wear it openly.

I searched Fabiano’s eyes. They gave nothing away. Part of me was scared of what I wanted. Part of me was scared he’d grow tired of me the moment I gave him what he wanted. I knew how things could turn out.

His hand found mine, linking our fingers and I stared down at our hands, then slowly back up because I wasn’t sure if he was doing this because he knew how it affected me or if he was being real. If this – whatever it was – was real.

He cupped my face and pulled me toward him. My knees hit the bumper between his legs as our bodies molded together. He kissed me, slow and languid. I pressed my palms against his firm chest, feeling his calm heartbeat. His lips trailed over my cheek, then brushed my ear. “I can think of something you could give me as a present.”

I stilled against him, my gaze seeking his. In the near dark it was difficult to read him. Sometimes it felt like he was doing it on purpose, saying something to break the moment, to destroy what could amount to something beautiful.

Why? I cleared my throat. “I told you—”

“You won’t sleep with me, I know.”

I raised the wrist with the bracelet. “Is that why you bought this?”

His eyes narrowed. “So you would sleep with me?” He let out a dark laugh. “To be honest, I’d hoped you would want to do it without the help of fancy jewelry.”

I flushed. “I do.”

His eyes became eager, his body alert. “You do?” he asked in a low voice.

“But not today, and not tomorrow. I need to get to know you better.”

His face was very close and he shook his head. “You know everything there is to know. And everything you don’t know yet, is for your own good.”

“I want to know everything, not just the good things.”

“There are no good things, Leona. You know the bad things, and there are only worse things lurking behind them.”

“I don’t believe that,” I whispered, leaning close and kissing him lightly.

“You should. I’m everything people warn you about. I’m every despicable thing they tell you and worse.”

“Then why do I feel safe when I’m with you?”

He shook his head, face almost angry. “Because you don’t know what’s good for you, and because you only see what you want to see.”

“You are kind to me.”

That seemed to be the last straw. He stood, his hands clutching my upper arms. “I’m not kind, Leona. Have never been. To no one.”

“To me you are,” I said stubbornly. Why couldn’t he see it?

He glared down at me, then raised his eyes to the city behind my back. His grip on my arms loosened. What was he thinking?

He sank back down on the hood, before he turned me around and pulled me against him, so my back was pressed up against his chest. “Tell me something about your family,” I whispered. “Anything.”

For a long time he didn’t react. “My sisters raised me more than my mother or father did.”

I held my breath, hoping he’d say more. Eventually, I risked another question. “How were they?”

Fabiano rested his head lightly on the top of my head. “Aria was protective and caring. Gianna loyal and fierce. Lily hopeful and lighthearted.” I tried to picture them together, trying to bring together Fabiano’s description with the press photo I’d found and their fake smiles in it.

“And you? How were you as a boy?”

His grip on my hips became painful, and I knew he was slipping away. “I was weak.”

“You were a child.” I felt him shake his head, then he pulled back. I didn’t want him to and put my hands over his to keep them in place. “What happened?”

“They left. Because they did, my father wanted me dead. And the boy he wanted dead, he died.”

What? His father had wanted him dead?

His breath was hot against my throat when he murmured. “I want to see you naked.”

I tensed, then tried to turn around to him to look at him but he wouldn’t let me see his face. His hands on my waist kept me in place. His sudden change of topic and mood disturbed me. “You said you felt safe with me. Then prove it. I want to see every inch of you.”

“It’s not fair that you’re using it against me,” I said quietly. My mind was whirring with what he’d told me.

“If you feel safe, then you trust me?”

Did I trust him? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t trusted anyone in a very long time, if ever. I didn’t even trust myself half the time.

“Or perhaps deep down you know that you can’t trust a man like me. Perhaps deep down you know I’m not safe.” He sounded triumphant.

I reached for the zipper on the side of my dress and slowly began moving it down. Fabiano released me so I could stand and lower the zipper completely. I reached for the hem of the dress but Fabiano’s hands were there, stopping me. “Let me.”

I raised my arms despite my nerves and he pulled the garment over my head. I shivered against the cold. He had seen me in my underwear before and yet this felt different, more exposing. I met his gaze. He sat on the edge of the hood, body taut with anticipation, like a jaguar on the verge of jumping. “Come,” he said quietly, and I stepped between his legs. He unhooked my bra and let it drop to the ground between us. Then his fingers hooked in the hem of my panties. Slowly he raked them down my hips until they fell to my feet. His eyes took in my body unabashedly. His gaze lingered on my most private part and I had to fight the urge to cover myself. The way he regarded me as if I was special made my breath catch in my throat. “See,” I said eventually. “I do feel safe with you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. My nipples rubbed against his dress shirt and a sweet tingle built in my belly. “You shouldn’t.” His voice was rough and deep. His hands came down on my hips, then one of them began its slow ascend until he cupped my breast. The cold of my surroundings became a distant memory as he tugged at my nipple, rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. I could feel myself growing wet from his touch within seconds. Slowly his other hand slid down from my waist to my butt. He cupped my cheek and squeezed, then moved lower, to the back of my upper thigh before he slid his fingers between my legs. His fingertips brushed over me and I released a long shuddering breath. In the dim light I caught sight of his erection straining against his pants.

What was I doing?

Whenever I’d lied awake at night, listening to my mother with her customers, I’d imagined my future with a straight-laced husband. A man who worked nine-to-five, a man who was safe and boring, and here I was with Fabiano, a man who was anything but. He didn’t fit with the future I imagined, didn’t fit into the life I’d so carefully planned out for myself.

But who ever said he’d be a part of my future? He definitely had never given any indication that he wanted a forever, that he even wanted a relationship. And what was it I wanted? I wasn’t sure anymore. And as his fingers worked my heated flesh and I clung to him, I decided to let go of my worries for now. My body surrendered to the feelings coiling in the pit of my stomach and I gasped as his fingers stroked me. It was exhilarating. Alive. I felt alive. He moved faster, and I cried out, my head falling back as currents of pleasure shot through me.

The sky above us was infinite, filled with possibilities and hope. Foolish hope.

Oh God. I was falling for him.

I pressed my forehead against Fabiano’s shoulder, trying to catch my breath. He took my hand and rested it against the bulge in his pants. “That’s what you do to me, Leona,” he growled.

Was that all I did to him?

A mix of triumph and need filled me. Need for more than what his body could give, but I reached for his zipper and pulled it down. Settle for what you can get, Leona.

My fingers halted before their next move. I raised my eyes to his, and there was a flicker of the same need. Did he feel it too? Fabiano rose from the hood, breaking the moment, and freed his erection from his pants. His eyes made me shiver, cold and hungry. “I want you on your knees, Leona. I want my cock in your mouth.”

I froze, my defenses shooting up. Another moment ruined. He was so damn good at it.

Me on my knees? That was something I’d sworn I’d never do. Not with anyone. My mother’s johns had always wanted her mouth on them, had felt powerful when she’d knelt before them, had enjoyed degrading her like that. Sometimes when she was high, she’d told me about it, about her revulsion, about the disgusting taste, about choking because they fucked her mouth without mercy. I’d never allow that to happen to me. Least of all like this. I wasn’t sure what Fabiano saw in me, if he cared for me, or if him wanting to be in my mouth was his way of possessing me a bit more.

I took a step back, shaking my head. “No,” I said. Fabiano’s eyes flashed, but I had no chance reading the emotion.

“I’m not your whore, Fabiano. I don’t like you ordering me around.”

He smiled darkly. “That wasn’t an order, Leona. Believe me, it sounds very different when I give an order.”

Dangerous. That was what he was. Sometimes I caught glimpses of it beneath his mask, and I always tried to forget.

“And I don’t like you teasing me. You keep flirting with me, letting me touch you, and you think I won’t want more? Even a normal guy would want to get in your pants, and I’m a fucking killer. And you expect me to sit back and wait patiently for you to make your head up.”

A killer. He’d never admitted to it. I’d never asked him, because deep down I’d preferred not to know, and even still the concept of him ending someone’s life was too abstract to grasp. It seemed like something distant, something not out of this world.

A sharp comment died on my lips when I caught the hint of wariness in Fabiano’s eyes. He was wary of me, thought I was playing with him, perhaps using him like the other women who’d always only seen his power and the possibilities it meant for them. Fabiano and I had a hard time trusting others.

“I’m not teasing you,” I said quietly. I touched his chest, feeling his heat even through the shirt. His muscles flexed under my touch, but he didn’t soften, not body or expression. He regarded me like a snake a mouse. I sighed, not wanting to explain my reaction to him because I couldn’t tell him about my mother, not without him looking at me differently. “I want to touch you,” I said, and it was true. “But I won’t put my mouth on you. I think it’s degrading. My mother always had bad taste in men and they all liked to put her down like that.”

His eyes were too assertive, like he knew more than I was willing to share. I looked away, worried he knew exactly what I was hiding, not only about my mother.

“I have no intention of degrading you,” he said. I tentatively reached for him, my fingers brushing over his silkiness. He hardened immediately all the way, but no sound left his lips as he watched me. For once I didn’t want to know what was going on in his head, too frightened that it would tell me more about myself than about him. His hand closed around my fingers, showing me exactly how he liked to be touched.

My own breathing quickened as I stroked him harder and faster. He never took his eyes off me, and there it was again that flicker of emotion. I tightened my grip even more, made him growl low in his throat, and replaced the tender emotion in his eyes with lust. Better. Safer. I could break the moment too. Had to break it, if I wanted to come out of this unscathed.

Fabiano tensed, control finally slipping, and he came with a shudder. The revulsion I expected never came. I’d wanted to touch him, and it felt amazing to watch him like that. I wanted more of it, and more than that.

When our breathing finally calmed, Fabiano took the wool blanket from the ground and wrapped it around us, his body warm against mine. I leaned back, closing my eyes. Despite the beauty of the city below, nothing could compare to the feel of our bodies pressed against each other. I’d been alone for so long. Perhaps all my life. And now there was someone whose closeness gave me a sense of belonging I hadn’t thought possible. Fabiano was a danger to anyone around, but to my heart he posed the greatest danger of all.