Twisted Hearts by Cora Reilly

My heart felt heavy as I stepped into our house. Diego’s hand on my shoulder felt less like a steadying presence, more like an anchor that he needed to stand upright.

Two Camorra soldiers guarded the driveway. Inside we found Mom bent over the kitchen table, crying. I hurried over to her and wrapped my arms around her. She embraced me tightly, shaking against me.

“Where’s Carlotta?” Diego asked gently.

“Upstairs with your aunt.”

Dad’s sister lived close by, so of course she’d be the first to help us in this time.

Diego wrapped his arm around Mom and me. “I’ll take care of you.”

I knew he’d work every second of every day to provide for us. He’d kill himself to make sure we were all right, but he couldn’t do this on his own. Even if two months wasn’t nearly enough time to organize a wedding or make Savio pay for what he’d done, I’d marry him then so Diego could accept the money without losing face.

I made Mom lie down in bed, but Diego refused to rest. He sat on the sofa, bent over our bills. I knew it was his way to distract himself so I let him.

The bell rang and Diego jumped to his feet. Grabbing his gun, he answered the door. Toni stood on the doorstep, behind her one of the Camorra soldiers. Her eyes darted from Diego to me, and her expression softened. I staggered forward, falling against her. She hugged me tightly. Diego slowly backed away and returned to the sofa.

With her arm wrapped around my shoulders, Toni led me upstairs then laid down with me in my bed. She held me all night as I cried.

We had a big family, and yet they didn’t even make up half of the people attending Dad’s and Nonna’s funeral. Loyal customers from the restaurants and Camorrista filled the pews of the church. Diego steadied Mom who seemed to shrivel under the force of her grief.

When I spotted Savio, Remo, and Nino followed by their wives, surprise washed over me. I’d expected them to show up at the graveyard, but knowing their aversion to religion, I hadn’t thought they’d show up for church. They came over to where Mom, Diego, and I stood beside the open coffins. Every word of condolence left another wound in my heart. By now, it was tattered. I hadn’t once dared to look at the bodies of Nonna and Dad, could hardly bear being here at all.

Savio stopped in front of me and took my hand. He didn’t say he was sorry, and I was glad. The words had become meaningless, unable to encompass the magnitude of our loss. His touch was warm, steady, the comfort I desperately needed. Diego was staggering under the pressure of being the master of our family, but Savio, he was solid and strong.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around his when he was about to pull back. I needed someone to hold me up, to steady me. I felt like I couldn’t hold myself anymore. It was all too much. The grief filling not just my heart but also the church and back at home, every inch of the house. I tugged at his hand and his brows drew together. He bent down. My lips came up to his ear. “Get me out of here,” I begged.

He nodded, and wrapping an arm around me, he led me off to the side, away from hundreds of solemn faces, and teary eyes. Not away from my guilt and grief. Those clung to me.

He pulled me into a small side room and closed the door.

“Better?” he asked in a gentle voice.

He searched my eyes. His face didn’t hold a trace of his usual arrogance or teasing, and I almost wished for it, for that flicker of normalcy among the shambles of my life. I’d spent the last week in a bubble of darkness. Mom and Diego, even Carlotta, were as broken as I felt, and with every new member of our extended family that visited, their sadness was added to our own, until I buckled under its weight.

“Gem, say something. Tell me what to do.”

I lifted the hand he wasn’t still holding and curled it over his neck.

His expression became wary. I stepped closer, my chest pressing against his. So steady and warm, so strong. The Falcones were a force—invincible, every single one of them. I knew the stories, what they had to endure, what they survived. They shouldn’t be here, none of them, but they’d beaten death over and over again. These last few days I’d been so scared of losing more people I loved—Toni, Mom, Carlotta, Diego…

With Savio, I knew he’d never allow death to get the better of him. A silly thought and yet I believed it.

My fingers tightened around his neck, trying to pull him down to me as I stepped on my tiptoes. Savio resisted, confusion flickering in his dark eyes. “Gem, say something.” His voice was rough, a purr deep in his chest that I could feel where our bodies touched. Even on my tiptoes I couldn’t reach his lips. “Savio,” I said softly. “Please.” I didn’t need to say what I wanted, he knew.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Maybe,” I said, but right this second, I needed this more than air.

Finally, Savio let me pull him down and his lips pressed against mine.

I sunk into his taste, his warmth. I yearned for him, all of him. His strength and scent were intoxicating. His tongue teased, stroked, caressed. His hands kept me steady, brushed over my back, then cupped my cheeks, deepening the kiss further.

I was completely at his mercy. His presence made me feel protected, cared for. Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned into him, needing to be closer.

“Fuck, Gem, you taste perfect,” he rasped between delicious swipes of his tongue. I couldn’t reply, slave to the sensations the kiss evoked in me. After days of cold, I felt warm. He lowered me on the bench, never stopping the kiss as he bent over me. I clung to his neck, wrapped my legs around his middle as he knelt before me.

The bells started ringing, announcing the exit of the congregation.

I froze and Savio pulled out of our kiss. Our lips were still brushing as we panted.

“We’re in church,” I whispered horrified over my own shamelessness. How could I have let this happen? Nonna and Dad would have been so ashamed of me. This was a day for grieving, not for this.

I could feel myself crumbling, wasn’t sure how to stop it.

“Hey,” Savio said, brushing my cheek. “You always wanted your first kiss in church. That didn’t happen, but at least we made your second kiss work.”

I shook my head, unable to speak under the weight of my guilt.

Savio became serious and cupped my face firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were fierce with a hint of compassion. “We don’t live for the dead. We live for the living. If kissing me helps you deal with your grief, then nobody’s got a right to judge you or I’ll cut them down.”

I released a shaky breath as a weight lifted itself off my chest. Slowly, I lowered my legs from Savio’s waist, but we stayed close. I’d promised myself to keep my distance from him to punish him, but in this moment, I was being unflinchingly selfish, because he was the only one who could stop me from drowning in my sadness.

Gemma’s lips were parted. My lips still burned from our kiss. I wished I knew what she was thinking.

Her gaze dropped to my scar on my wrist which she’d started tracing. I resisted the urge to push her away, allowing her this. Her brows pulled tight. “How do you keep going?”

I covered her hand with mine, stilling her wandering fingers. “For one, to spite the people who tried to kill me.”

She let out a small, sad laugh. “After losing someone, I mean…”

I’d never lost someone I loved. When I’d found out our father had been killed, I’d felt anger on Remo’s behalf because he’d wanted to kill the man himself, but not a flicker of sadness. And my mother… I hated her with every cell in my body. “You just do. You don’t focus on what you lost but on what you have.”

She looked away. “I lost half of my family. It feels like I lost part of myself. What could possibly take their place?”

“You’ll soon have a bigger family, Gem. My family. They won’t replace what you lost, but they’ll fill the void all the same.”

Gemma turned to me. “That’s the first time you said that I was going to be part of your family.”

I’d been a goddamn bastard to her. “Of course, you’re going to be part of my family. You’ll be my wife.”

She swallowed and began to pull away. I stood and helped her to her feet.

“We should head out to the graveyard. My family needs me.”

I nodded and together we returned into the now empty church. We drove to the graveyard in my car. They were lowering the caskets into the ground when we arrived.

Diego gave me a curt nod. Gemma slipped her hand in mine and I squeezed briefly. She didn’t release me even as we stood on her family’s side. Tears streamed down her face, and even then, even without a stroke of makeup, she was gorgeous. When the casket hit the ground, Diego’s mother ripped out of his grip and fell to her knees at the edge of the hole. She let out a wail that carried over the graveyard, a lament that even I could feel in my black heart. Gemma shook against me then she too stumbled to the grave and fell to her knees beside her mother, clutching her tightly. Diego was frozen.

I’d never encountered grief this raw. My eyes slanted to my brothers. Nino had his arm wrapped around Kiara, who was bawling. Remo’s expression was the fiercest I’d ever seen it, as he gripped Serafina’s hand. She, too, was crying but in her proud, dignified way. In the past, it had only been my brothers and I. We had little to lose, except for each other, but now the number of people we cared about and had sworn to protect grew every year, and it would keep growing. I looked at Gemma.

My brothers had embraced their new responsibilities, and I would too.

I gave Gemma a few days after the funeral before I asked her if I could come over. We had our wedding to plan. Life needed to go on. It was easy to get lost in your grief, but I didn’t want that for Gemma.

She was in sweatpants and a T-shirt when I got there.

The house was strangely quiet with her mom and sister over at their aunt’s. Only Diego and Gemma lived in the house now, and Diego had become awfully quiet.

She let me in but kept her distance. I’d suspected that the two kisses we’d shared had been the result of her broken-heartedness.

We sank down on the sofa and she regarded me with a quiet scrutiny that made me nervous. “Are you still sure about marrying me in six weeks?”

I laughed. “Kiara’s already halfway done with the planning. She’d have my balls if I canceled the thing now.”

Gemma didn’t crack a smile. “I’m being serious.”

Sighing, I took her hand. “I’m sure about marrying you. I’ll probably be a lousy husband, but I’ll do my best.”

She swallowed. “I want you to be faithful to me. I want you to be only mine like I’m only yours.”

“I will be faithful.”

“You will be. So, until our wedding, you’re going to keep seeing other girls?”

I released a breath. “I haven’t been with another girl in two weeks.” Since I almost lost her and realized I couldn’t bear the thought.

“Congrats,” she said, her lips thinning.

“What do you want to hear, Gem? It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex since I lost my V-card at thirteen.”

“And the wait is going to be even longer, are you sure your bull can handle it?”

I hid a smile at her feistiness. I preferred it to her grief. “He’ll be fine. Six weeks will pass in no time.” It would be hard, of course, especially my poor dick. Just the thought of only having my hand for relief, nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Six weeks?” Gemma echoed.

“Until our wedding, or did you reconsider the waiting until marriage thing?” I had to tease her, I couldn’t help it.

“Definitely not,” she said with a strange smile.