Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)

by Cora Reilly

People finally had a reason for the nickname they gave my brothers and me. The monsters of Las Vegas. My monstrous side had come out to play but the revelry had only just begun.

“Mikhailov. Dinara Mikhailov.”

A couple of pit girls who’d gathered in the shadow of the roof followed him with their hungry eyes. A powerful name, money and the aura of a bad boy with the indisputable fact that Adamo had a body few girls would dismiss drew them in like a moth to the flame. His sweaty shirt clung to his chest, revealing the lines of muscle and an impressive six-pack, and his ass in the dark blue jeans wasn’t shabby either.

“Dinara and Remo have history.” “History, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dinara was younger than me, my age tops, so history couldn’t mean he’d fucked her, but that had been pretty much his only interest in the female species before he found his wife Serafina.

Umm...

“You remember Eden?” “That whore working in the Sugar Trap?” I’d never talked to her, much less touched her, but my friend with benefits C.J. had mentioned her a couple of times. They both sold their bodies for money. “She’s Dinara’s mother.

WHAT OMG PLOT TWST

She stepped back and turned around, walking away, giving me a perfect look at her ass in her tight pants. I ran a hand through my hair. She was a hot piece of ass, but I preferred less trouble in my sex life. Hooking up with grid girls or the rare racer girl had proven a hassle in the past, so I’d stopped reacting to advances. Business and pleasure better stayed separated.

What happened to thr innocent 14 year old 😭

My attention drifted over to my left where Adamo parked in his yellow BMW M4. His window was down and his muscled arm rested casually on his door. His eyes met mine and one corner of his mouth tipped up.

Adamo grew up in the last 3 books

My heart sped up and I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking my body’s reaction to the overconfident Falcone baby brother. But fuck, he looked all man, trouble and danger, how he lounged in his seat as if that was the place he was meant to be. His kingdom.

Twenty seconds later, Adamo crossed the finish line first and I came in after him. I let out a battle cry. Pulling up beside Adamo’s parked car beside a makeshift winner’s rostrum, I let down my window. Adamo was already getting out of his car. The sinking sun had turned the sky into a fiery blaze behind him. He pulled out a cigarette packet from his jeans. “Nice race, Falcone,” I shouted over the sound of the incoming race cars. His lips twitched around the cigarette and he strode toward me. Again I couldn’t stop admiring his sun-kissed, strong forearms and the outline of his six-pack through his thin white T-shirt. As if he knew what I was thinking, his smile turned cocky. He held out the packet to me through my window and I gingerly snatched up a cigarette. Shoving the door open, I got out.

“You risked a lot,” Adamo said. I shrugged, stepping closer to him. “Can you give me fire?” I put the cigarette in my mouth. Adamo leaned closer with the lighter, one of his hands protecting the flame from the breeze. Out of habit, because I always did it with Dima, I guided his hand with mine so the flame touched the tip of my cigarette. His hand was hot and strong beneath my palm. His eyes met mine and for a moment we were both frozen in the moment, in the realization of our sudden closeness. The second my tip kindled, I withdrew from Adamo and took a deep drag.

Dima advanced on us, expression hardening when he spotted Adamo beside me. “You risked too much,” he said in Russian. “Some things are worth risking everything for,” I said in English, my eyes boring into Adamo’s. Adamo inclined his head with a tight smile.

Dima shook his head. “Don’t forget what’s at stake.” I glowered. “Nobody knows what’s really at stake except for me.”

Ooo whats she plotting

It was the day before the race, the deadline when all drivers had to appear in camp. My eyes registered a neon-green Viper at the very edge of the camp. I stifled a sigh. Dinara was the last to show up and last night I’d worried she wouldn’t. I wasn’t even sure why I cared. Her presence meant trouble.

A grin flitted across her face but just as quickly it vanished. She held up the lighter, the flame fluttering in the soft breeze. I set the plate down on the hood before I leaned closer until the tip of the cigarette dangled over the fire and lit up. Our gazes met and she held mine steadily. Many girls tried to be coy or batted their lashes, some even looked away because the name Falcone had that effect on people. But Dinara looked at me. I got the feeling that she was trying to see beyond what I wanted other people to see, and yet, she kept up her own guards. Whatever she had to hide, I’d figure it out.

Dinara’s looks had something exotic, especially her high cheekbones.

Her lips brushed my stubbled cheek—I’d cut my beard yesterday because it had become too untamed. Her eyes captured mine and fuck, I was a goner.

“Vodka is starting to grow on me. Maybe I have a thing for Russian delicacies.” I tilted my head toward him. “They are the best.” “I need proof.” Adamo cupped my neck, startling me and pressed his lips to mine.

Oh cuz ses Russian so he's tasting her i get it smart adamoo

When I entered the long room without windows, Remo’s eyes said he knew why I was there. Nino sat on the sofa, eying me with a hint of disapproval. He thought I sought fights with Remo, but that wasn’t the case. But unlike Nino, I had a conscience and it sometimes clashed with Remo’s ruthlessness.

Remo’s answering smirk told me he knew. I didn’t care. He hadn’t said I should stay away from Dinara, and even if he had, I wouldn’t have listened. Her closeness called too loudly to me. Getting in bed with the enemy was something he and I had in common.

“A look I usually only see in Remo’s eyes. The hunger for blood and violence. The need for death and destruction. As a baby and younger child, you looked exactly like Remo. And on occasion a similar temper would shine through.”

Neither Fabiano and Leona nor Gemma and Savio were present. Maybe they had date nights.

Kiara was listening to something Nino said, then her gaze cut to me and she smiled kindly. Fina got up and hugged me briefly, her keen blue eyes checking my face. I supposed I was looking out of it.

“No,” I said. “It’s just that I only recently told Dinara about your mac and cheese after she had her first taste of the dish out of a can.” Kiara closed the oven and turned it off, but made no move to remove the casserole. Instead she leaned against the kitchen counter with a mildly surprised expression. “You told her about our family?” I shrugged. “Bits and pieces. Not much. But I promised her your mac and cheese would convince her of the dish.” Kiara tried to stifle a smile but failed. “You two spend a lot of time together. It must be serious if you even consider introducing her to us.”

I shook my head with a grimace. “Fuck, I sound like a goddamn horoscope.” “You’re in love,” Kiara said, her eyes alight with amusement. My alarm bells rang. Falling in love was something I’d tried to avoid since Harper broke my stupid naïve teenage heart. Hurting my feelings wasn’t as easy now. No one had been close enough to even try.

“I don’t know. But even if that were the case, Dinara is a Bratva princess. Her father is our enemy. I doubt Grigory or Remo are keen on making peace. And after the thing with Gemma’s family, it would cause a shitstorm in the Camorra if Remo as much as tried to establish a truce.” Kiara nodded slowly, her expression sympathetic. She touched my arm. “It’s not like Remo cares about other people’s opinions. If he thinks peace with the Bratva is a tactical advantage, he’ll do it. Shitstorm or not.” She flushed.

When the first tents of camp came into view, my chest tightened. I was fucking nervous about seeing her again, about doing what I’d promised not to do, about seeing her in a new light.

I could feel the treacherous heaviness in the back of my throat, the prickling at the back of my eyeballs—harbingers of tears. Not going to happen. Crying was a sign of weakness I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.

“The look in your eyes now when you look at me… it means what we had is over.” What we had. We hadn’t even put a name to it, hadn’t allowed us to define something that went against many odds. I hadn’t allowed myself to put too much importance into our liaison. I’d tried to tell myself it was only about having fun and getting closer to a Falcone, but now that I saw our bond crumble right before my eyes, I realized it had been more than just fun. More than I should have ever allowed. More than my father would ever accept.

He bent his head, capturing my gaze with his. His scent, warm and spicy, wrapped around me. “How am I looking at you?” I laughed bitterly and pointed the glowing tip at his face. “Like this. The same way my father looked at me when Remo handed me back to him. As if I was a broken puppet. Your favorite puppet that you took out to play every day but suddenly it had an irreparable crack, and now you can’t ever play with it again because you fear it might break apart if you do. So, you’ll put it on a shelf and hardly ever look at it because whenever you do, you’re sad about what you lost. That’s how you look at me, Adamo. So, go your merry way, I’ll survive.”

I was a survivor. I would survive Adamo walking away, not without my dark craving, but I would survive one way or another. Still, my stomach twisted at the thought that this could be our final goodbye—even if goodbye was inevitable for us.

Adamo shook his head. “Bullshit. I never played with you, and I won’t go my merry way. We aren’t over and I won’t allow you to put a wedge between us.” He gripped my shoulders, not gentle at all, and my stupid heart pounded with hope. “Nothing changed between us.” And yet everything had. His eyes told the truth. If we wanted a chance, Adamo needed to see me as the girl I’d been before he’d known the truth. He had to see me as a separate being from the poor girl from the video. I wasn’t sure if he could. Dad had tried and failed. I never resented him for it. He was my father. I accepted the way he looked at me because we were family. But I wouldn’t do the same for Adamo. I couldn’t. I needed this part of my life to be only for Dinara, and not poor abused Katinka.

Adamo cupped my neck, heat and anger battling in his eyes. “I don’t pity the girl in front of me, Dinara. I pity that girl from the past. But you…you are tough as nails. You don’t need my fucking pity.”

“We’re not over,” he rasped. I nodded, breathing harshly. “We’re not.”

In that moment Adamo looked at me the same way he had before he’d found out the ugly truth, as if I were still tough, racer Dinara to him. I knew there would be moments when this new poignant expression would return but as long as he could make me feel so alive, I could live with the small reminders.

Adamo’s warm scent engulfed me, one of his arms thrown over my waist. His closeness provided the solace I’d never admit I needed.

Adamo nodded, his nose brushing my cheek. “Whatever you need, I’m here. I know there’s a reason why you joined the races, why you sought my closeness, and once you’re ready to divulge your reasons, I’m here to listen.”

“What do you want now?” My heart sped up whenever I tried to determine what exactly I wanted. Deep down only one option sounded satisfying.

“Oh, I have a feeling you’re worth every trouble you might put me through.” I bit my lip, unsure how to respond to that. Every day I spent with Adamo, he grew more on me. I missed him when he wasn’t around and I kept thinking about him and how it felt to be with him. I wasn’t sure where my path was taking me but I hoped Adamo would join me on it, at least for a little while longer. I didn’t dare look too far into the future.

“Just curious. I still think he acts more like a protective brother than a former lover. It’s odd.” “More odd than a Falcone and a Mikhailov getting it on?” I asked, trailing my fingers down Adamo’s muscled chest and abs. Adamo chuckled. “Nice try.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What kind of questions?” “My sisters-in-law want to know all about you. A secret girl in my life has them all dying from curiosity.” “Secret girl in Adamo Falcone’s life. I like that title.” Before I could think about it, I reached for his hand and before I could pull away again, Adamo linked our fingers. He gave me a knowing smile and silence fell over us. Sometimes I lost myself in the warmth of his eyes. They made me feel as if I could entrust him with every dark secret I harbored.

Remo’s mouth twitched when he followed my actions. His eyes held recognition and the hint of dark amusement. No sign of pity. His brother Nino’s face was completely void of emotions, just like I remembered it. I didn’t wait for them to approach me, instead I walked in their direction, my head held high.

I held out my hand to Remo. “It’s been a long time.” Remo nodded with another twitch of his mouth and briefly shook my hand. “Indeed. You changed.” Adamo positioned himself at my side and touched my hip. I briefly glanced his way, surprised by his closeness and his open sign of our togetherness. I couldn’t deny that it warmed my chest more than the vodka had done.

Both Nino and Remo glanced at Adamo’s move but didn’t comment. Dad would probably have attempted to kill Adamo at this display of affection.

Adamo rubbed my waist again and while I appreciated his support, and would eventually tell him so, I needed to show strength. I hadn’t come this far to cower like the girl I had been in the past. I’d moved beyond her. I had changed.

“I wanted to see if I was right in my assessment of you.” I narrowed my eyes. “What assessment?” “If you’d prove as strong as I considered you to be.”

“What’s the matter?” “Your brother and I need to talk alone.” “Still don’t trust me, hmm?” Adamo asked wryly. “No,” I growled. “That’s not it. But the truth I’m going to find out today is my truth. One I want to process before I share it with anyone else. Even with you. It’s my past.” Adamo sighed. He leaned in and kissed me. “All right, but remember I’m here if you need me.”

Dima glowered and leaned closer. “The last time she looked this freaked out, she had a relapse and almost died. If something happens to her, I’ll kill you.” I got into his face. “She’s mine, and I’ll make sure she’s safe, so fuck off.”

Adamo touched my cheek and I leaned into him. “We’ll figure out a way for you to move past this shit. Together.” I nodded. “Together.”

I swallowed and gave a jerky nod. Adamo kissed me and wrapped his arms even more tightly around me. I could hardly breathe, but I only hugged him back with the same force. After the events of the day, after everything we’d just discussed, my body rang with the need to be as close to Adamo as possible. I didn’t care if it made me look weak or needy. Adamo made me feel as if it was okay to not be strong once in a while. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and I closed my eyes, feeling safe.

Adamo’s gaze slanted to me, frantic, eager, hungry. “He’s yours.” Mine. Mine to judge. To torture. To kill.