Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles, #3)

by Cora Reilly

“Whatever you take, it’ll always be less than what he would have gotten, because I would have given myself to him willingly, body and soul, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You will have to settle for the consolation prize, Remo Falcone.”

She was. Serafina was a masterpiece, almost too beautiful. Her golden hair and unblemished skin against the dirty mattress had felt like sacrilege, even to me, and I had committed almost every sin conceivable.

“You are safe in your weakest moments, Angel. I don’t enjoy breaking the weak. I will break you when you are strong.”

You are a Falcone, Adamo, and one day you will be proud to be one.”

And I swore to myself that no matter the price, no matter what it would cost me, one day I would be the one to bring Remo Falcone to his knees, the one to break the cruelest man I knew.

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.

“Your pride will be your downfall,” I said. “And your fury will be yours.” “Then we’ll fall together. Isn’t that the beginning of every tragic love story?”

“That, Angel, was a kiss. It’s the only kind of kiss you’ll ever get from me, and it’s the kiss you’ll use to measure every kiss that follows.”

I followed Kiara into the kitchen and took the mustard jar she held out to me. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day that someone was less scared of me than of Fabiano or anyone else for that matter.” Kiara flushed. “I know I’m safe with you,” she said quietly. Fuck, she was. I held out the open jar.

“I’m fairly sure God designed your body to drive men into insanity,” Remo said darkly. Stifling the excited thrill Remo’s words sent through me, I retorted, “You believe in God?” “No. I don’t. But looking at you, I could turn into a believer.” I huffed. “There’s a cozy warm place in Hell reserved just for you.” “I’ve burned before.”

Despite my hate for the Camorra’s Capo, his kisses and closeness wreaked havoc within me.

“What do you really want, Remo?” He regarded me with unsettling intensity. “You know what I want.” “Body and soul,” I muttered. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Body and soul.”

“I’m Danilo’s,” I said firmly. Remo narrowed his eyes. “Are you reminding me or yourself?” “I’m promised to him. I want him, not you.” “You can have an Underboss, someone who’s learned to do another man’s biding, or the Capo, a man who has men follow his command.”

“Oh, Remo, I will be your first angel. Patience is a virtue, and you will be rewarded for it.” I kissed his ear then trailed my tongue over the rim.

He possessed me. He owned me. I was the queen. He was the king. Checkmate.

Kneeling before me, challenge and triumph in her blue eyes, Serafina owned me. Body … and whatever black soul was left.

“You are mine, Angel. Body and soul,” he rasped. And God help me, he spoke the truth.

“I own you, Angel. Remember that. You gave me a part of yourself and you’ll never get it back. It’s mine no matter what happens next.”

I turned my head slightly, meeting Remo’s cold gaze. “I’m not the only one who lost something,” I whispered. “You gave me part of your cruel black heart, Remo, and one day you will realize it.”

I stared at the two lines on the test. Pregnant. With Remo Falcone’s child.

I rocked Nevio and his eyes drooped. “If anyone tries to hurt my children by making them feel less than, they’ll have to go through me.”

My children weren’t something shameful. I wouldn’t allow anyone to make them feel that way. Not even the family I loved.

He was a destroyer, a murderer, a torturer. A monster. The father of my children. The man who held my heart in his cruel, brutal hand.

“You didn’t marry Danilo,” Remo murmured. “How could I?” I whispered, bending low until Remo and I almost touched. “How could I marry him when I was pregnant with your children?”

“When you gave me up, I carried your babies in me, Remo. You gave us up.” “I thought you’d return to me,” he rasped. “You pushed me away.” “I set you free.”

“How could I get rid of the most beautiful creations I can imagine? Greta and Nevio are pure perfection, Remo.” He exhaled, and the look in his eyes … God, that look. This cruel man had stolen my heart, and I had let him.

“Our children are perfection but here, in the Outfit, they represent shame and dishonor. People whisper behind their backs, call them Falcones as if it is something sinful, something dirty. Our children are beautiful.” My voice became fiercer with every word. “They are meant to hold their heads high, not be ashamed for who they are. They aren’t meant to bow, aren’t meant to live in the shadows. They are meant to rule. They are Falcones. They belong in Las Vegas where their names carry power and respect. They are meant to rule at the side of the cruelest, bravest man I know. Their father.”

“Strong enough to take you and our children home where you all belong, Angel.”

“Nobody will protect them like you will. You’ll go through fire for them.” I didn’t ask. I knew it. He raised his hand stiffly, most of his arm bandaged, and cupped the back of my head. I let him pull me down. “For them. For you,”

“Hardly anything worth having can be gained without loss, pain, and sacrifice.”

“Whatever’s in there, it’s yours. Whatever love I’m capable of, it’s yours, too.”