Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3) - Page 31

“Now that you’re here, keep an eye on our guest while she’s eating in the kitchen. I’ll take a shower then take over her watch.”

My mouth curled. “I’m not your guest. I’m a captive.”

“Semantics,” Remo said.

Maybe in his twisted mind.

“I could have watched her too,” Adamo grumbled from his spot on the sofa.

Savio and Remo exchanged a look. Either they worried their younger brother would help me or they worried he wouldn’t be able to stop me from escaping. Interesting.

Remo narrowed his eyes at me then strode past me, his arm brushing mine, causing me to draw back.

“Come,” Savio ordered. My eyes lingered on Adamo, who was scowling at Remo’s retreating back. Maybe the Falcones had a weak link in their midst.

Tearing my gaze away, I followed Savio to the back of the ground floor and through a door, which opened to a huge kitchen.

He pointed toward a pot on the stove. I approached it and lifted the lid, finding a creamy orange-colored soup. “What is it?”

“How would I know?” Savio drawled, sinking down on a chair at the kitchen table. “Probably something without meat. Kiara is vegetarian.”

I frowned, trying to decipher the emotion in his voice. I thought I detected a hint of protectiveness when he said her name. Turning on the stove, I took a whiff. “Pumpkin soup,” I said.

Savio shrugged. “I’m having a bowl as well.”

I stared at the arrogant bastard. Did he think I’d fix him lunch? “Why don’t you haul your lazy ass off the chair and get your own bowl?”

He did haul his ass off the chair and advanced on me. He braced himself against the stove on either side of my waist, cornering me. “I’m not Remo,” he said quietly, “but I’m a Falcone, and I love bloodshed. You better watch your tongue.”

I didn’t say anything. Savio was scary in his own way. The soup started bubbling behind my back, and Savio finally withdrew, turning around. I opened a drawer to look for a ladle when a plan took form. Remo was upstairs, showering. I hadn’t seen Nino anywhere, only Adamo was in the living room, and potentially a workman, who, knowing Vegas, wouldn’t come to my help. It was the best opportunity I’ve had so far.

I gripped the heavy pot by its handles and swung back to gain momentum, but before I could release my hold, Savio whirled around. I catapulted the pot with the boiling soup at him. In an impressive show of reflexes, he lunged to the side, avoiding the pot and most of its contents. Splatters of yellow soup covered him from head to toe. I took my chance and tried to rush past him. His hand shot out, clamping down on my wrist, and he shoved me away with an infuriating air of arrogance. Spinning myself around, my hipbones collided with the edge of the table. I fell forward, my elbows hitting the hardwood, my butt jutting out in an undignified way.

“I like your ass from that vantage point,” Savio commented.

“As long as you like it from a distance,” Remo warned.

I whirled around.

Standing in the open door, Remo took in the mess on the floor and on his brother. “What the fuck happened here?”

Savio grimaced at his shirt then scowled at me. “That bitch tried to boil me alive.”

I straightened, trying to hide my fear of what my punishment would be for the attack, but then Remo laughed, a low rumble that raised goose bumps on my skin.

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Savio muttered. “I’m done. Next time you’re busy, do me a favor and ask Nino to watch her.” He stalked out without another glance.

“Clean that up,” Remo ordered with a nod toward the floor, the amusement gone from his voice.

I remained where I was.

Remo walked around the lake of orange on the floor and stopped right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back. He cupped my chin. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Angel. Choose your battles wisely,” he murmured threateningly. “And now you will clean the floor. I don’t give a fuck if your highborn hands aren’t supposed to get dirty.”

I lowered my eyes from the harshness of his gaze but tried to mask it as me drawing back from his touch. “Where’s a mop?”

Remo turned and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in exactly two minutes and you won’t move a fucking inch, understood?”

I pressed my lips together, a small act of defiance—if it could even be considered that—because Remo knew I’d obey. Very few people would have dared to defy Remo in that moment. I hoped one day to be among them.

REMO

I headed for the utility cupboard. Savio leaned against the bar, nursing a drink and his bruised ego. “Next time you should pay more attention.”

Tags: Cora Reilly The Camorra Chronicles Romance
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