Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles Book 6)

Dinara sent me a challenging look, cocking one perfectly groomed red eyebrow in an exaggerated way.

One corner of my mouth twitched up and I mimicked her expression.

“I’ll kick your ass Falcone,” she called over the roar of the engines.

I answered by letting my car howl. “Not if I kick your ass first, Mrs. Falcone.”

Officially, Dinara was still a Mikhailov, but she’d soon realized that everyone considered her a Falcone in camp and in Vegas. Eventually, she’d stopped correcting them.

The pit girl raised the start flag. I tensed with eagerness, the thrill of the upcoming race rushing in my veins. This was the first race of the seven-day-circuit, and Dinara and I stood in the first row due to our excellent results so far.

When the pit girl dropped the flag, Dinara’s battle-cry-like laugh burst through the roar of the engines. I grinned as I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal.

My heart pounded, my pulse hammered in my veins, and I felt high on freedom and adrenaline. Dinara and I raced together for almost fifteen years now but we still relished every second of a race. Dinara tried to push me off the road when she cut in front of me in the first bend but I held against it. My smile widened. It was on. There was nothing better than a wife who could kick your ass in a race.

Dinara won the first day, but I was right behind her so we could spend the night in the same spot. It had become a beloved ritual.

“Did you wait for me?” I joked when I got out of my car.

Dinara snorted. “I’m not nostalgic!” She disappeared behind her trunk to relieve herself, and I hid behind an assortment of rocks to do the same.

Dinara scanned the horizon when I joined her a couple of minutes later. I kissed her plump lips. “They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“I know,” she said, but she didn’t stop searching the area. Finally, the outline of our huge motorhome appeared in the distance. It had its own shower and toilet, a kitchen, living area, and plenty of sleeping room.

The horn sounded a few times as usual before the motorhome pulled up beside our cars. The door on the driver’s side swung open and Aurora hopped out of the motorhome, her blond hair in a messy ponytail. “Roman refused to take a nap. He was too eager to watch the race,” she said with an apologetic expression.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He can be as stubborn as his mother.”

Dinara sent me a warning look before she headed for the passenger side and climbed up to free Roman from his child seat. He wrapped his short legs around her waist as she came toward me. His dark hair was all over the place. It had grown in the last few weeks and fell into his eyes, but he hated having it cut so we just gave up. Maybe he’d eventually grow tired of it being so long.

“I’ll cook dinner,” Aurora called as she headed into the back of the motorhome. When our son was born four years ago, we’d wondered how we’d manage to keep racing. Dinara had paused for a year and just supported me, but then she’d missed it too much. The standard races weren’t a big problem. Dinara’s friend and former pit girl Kate could watch Roman during that time but the seven-day circuit was a bigger problem. Luckily Aurora, Fabiano’s and Leona’s daughter, was fascinated by racing and wanted to earn additional pocket money, so she played our babysitter for a few weeks during the summer holidays. This was the second year she helped us out after begging her father for over a year to allow her this job. I had to swear to him to protect her with my life, which I would have done anyway. Fabiano was like family, so Aurora was too.

I set up a small fire in front of the motorhome. Dinara and I sank down in front of it with Roman between us. He’d fallen asleep the moment he was reunited with us. No surprise considering that it was four in the morning. His nap and sleeping routine always got messed up during this week. Aurora carried our breakfast over to us. Hash browns, bacon and eggs sunny-side-up. She yawned and gave us an embarrassed smile.

“Go to bed,” Dinara urged. She too looked exhausted. I was beyond that point. My head felt as if it was filled with cotton candy.

With a wave, Aurora disappeared in the motorhome and after a few minutes the lights went out.

“I wish we could sleep in our bed,” Dinara mumbled.

“Yeah.” I stroked Roman’s unruly head. We’d chosen his name because it worked in Russia and Italy, so we didn’t offend either of our families. “But the rules are the rules.”

Dinara rolled her eyes. “I get it. We all have to sleep uncomfortably to have the same conditions.” Fifteen minutes later, the three of us huddled together in our shared tent. Roman hadn’t woken. I admired him for his ability to fall asleep in a heartbeat and continue to sleep no matter what happened around him. With him between us, Dinara and I fell asleep. This had become a tradition for us. One of us always gave in and drove a bit slower so the other could catch up and we could have family time in the evening. Dinara and I were competitive but we didn’t really race to win. We raced because it was our life.

Dinara’s breathing evened out. She’d fallen asleep with her chin resting against Roman’s head and a peaceful expression on her face. Having Roman had really turned us into our own little family. We’d worried if it would be a problem to keep up our nomad life with a child but Roman never knew another way of living. He loved being fawned over by all the pit girls and getting to ride in all the cool race cars. And since we had him, my brothers and their families occasionally visited camp, even if Dinara and I tried to visit them as often as our tight racing schedule allowed.

Late the next morning, during our second breakfast, Aurora, Roman, Dinara and I sat around our kitchen table in the motorhome together and ate the khachapuri that Dinara had made.

“My father bought a new lodge near Aspen, a bigger one,” Dinara said as she checked her messages on her cellphone. Our main contact to our families during the season was via phone. Dinara saw her father and half-brothers even less frequently than my family. And her contact with Dima was limited to occasional text altogether. She showed me the screen with several photos of a splendid timber lodge.

“The last one was already too big for us. You told him that we won’t add more kids to our family, right?”

“I did, but I think he prefers to ignore it. Once Jurij and Artur start giving him grandkids we’ll be off the hook.”

“That can take a decade.”

“With so much space, we could all celebrate together. A big Falcone-Mikhailov Christmas,” I joked. The Bratva and the Camorra still only tolerated each other. There was no cooperation. Dinara’s and my marriage hadn’t changed that, not that we’d advertised our union. We didn’t want to stir up trouble in Chicago. Over the last decade, we’d established a routine. We celebrated Christmas with my family in December and then we celebrated again with Dinara’s family. Because her father didn’t want me to set foot in Chicago, he’d bought a lodge in Aspen where we could celebrate together and enjoy a ski and snowboarding holiday. It was a compromise that worked well and Roman was ecstatic over getting presents twice.

“I think it’s really cool that you celebrate Christmas twice,” Aurora said. “What do you say, Roman?”

“Yes!” he agreed enthusiastically.

Dinara and I exchanged an amused look. She took my hand under the table, pressing our tattoos together.

Dinara

Roman clapped enthusiastically as he watched the awards ceremony. Aurora had to hold his hand tightly to stop him from running around.

It was only the second time that I’d managed to win the seven-day-circuit. In the past my constant pee breaks had destroyed any chance at winning, not to mention that Adamo and I often waited for each other in the first few days to spend the night together.

When I stepped on the winner’s rostrum, Roman clapped even harder, beaming all over his face.

Adamo climbed up on the rostrum beside me. He’d finished in third position. I gave him a coy look. So far he was still in the lead when it came to total wins, but I had every intention to catch up with him eventually.

After the ceremony, Roman rushed over to us and threw himself into my arms. I swung him up and he thrust his arms up over his head, as if he too had won. Adamo smiled broadly at me. Despite our competitiveness losing against each other never stung, even if we teased each other mercilessly in the days that followed. The winner always got the bragging rights and the loser promised retribution.

“You beat Dad, Mom,” Roman reminded me, before he turned to Adamo to say in a gravelly voice. “Sorry, Dad.”

Adamo tousled Roman’s unruly hair. “Don’t worry, buddy. Next time Dad will win again.”

I sent him a look that made it blatantly clear that wouldn’t happen.

“I want to race too!” Roman declared.

“Maybe next year,” Adamo said with a wink.

Over my dead body. This was one of the times where I wished Adamo and I hadn’t passed on our recklessness. Adamo always joked I was being overprotective, and he was right, but I just couldn’t help it.

Together we climbed down the rostrum, and I accepted the congratulations of fellow racers and many pit girls. Funnily enough, these girls had become much nicer to me since I’d given birth, probably because they didn’t see me as competition anymore now that I was a mom. Not that I’d ever competed with them for their prey—the bachelor racers. I’d only had eyes for Adamo from the beginning.

I still rocked jean shorts and crop tops, even if I had to have my belly piercing removed due to an infection during pregnancy. I now wore the tiny Fabergé egg as a pendant around my neck. Adamo had actually had the idea and gifted the necklace to me shortly after I’d given birth to Roman.

“I’m starving,” I said as I followed Adamo who cleared a path through the buzzing crowd, which was already prepping everything for the huge party that always followed the seven-day-circuit.

An hour later Adamo, Aurora, Roman, and I were square in the middle of the celebrations. A fire roared up into the sky and blasted us with heat. I held Roman’s hand tightly as he tugged to get closer to the raging flames.

“Someone was too fond of fire accelerant,” Aurora mused as she sipped at her Coke. While Adamo and I weren’t a stickler for rules, we’d given our word to Fabiano that we’d watch his daughter closely, so we didn’t allow her to have any alcohol.

A couple racers had checked Aurora out when she first appeared in camp, but one look from Adamo and a gentle reminder from me that her father was the Camorra’s Enforcer stopped any interest the male camp population might have had in her.

Roman yanked even harder at my arm and pointed at the flames with his free hand. “I want to watch the fire!”

“You can watch it from here,” I said, then turned to Adamo. “I wish he was less reckless.”

Adamo chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Did you really think a kid of ours would be the cautious type?”

Aurora hid a smile behind her can of Coke. A moment later she joined the dancing crowd. She’d borrowed one of my crop tops and combined it with baggy jeans and white sneakers covered with drawings in permanent marker, looking as if she belonged here and not in an elite high school. Adamo’s vigilant gaze followed her briefly, but when he saw that she was surrounded by pit girls, and that the guys kept a respectful distance, he locked eyes with me again.

Roman’s frustration rose as I kept him in place. His dark eyes sent me a reproachful look, as if he couldn’t believe I dared to restrict his desire for freedom so shamelessly. Adamo hoisted him up over his head and positioned him on his shoulders. I used my now free hand to grab a beer from the drinks table and took a sip while Adamo began to rock to the music, moving closer to the fire, much to Roman’s delight. His excited laughter made me smile and I followed along, my body losing itself to the fast beat of the music.

Adamo and I celebrated like this for two hours before we took our leave shortly before midnight with a sleeping Roman. He hung limply over Adamo’s shoulder, his mouth slack in sleep.

Our days of partying until the early morning hours until we stumbled toward our tent in a drunk haze were over since I’d become pregnant with Roman. Now two beers already created a buzz in my body that only half a bottle of vodka had done in the past. Aurora followed us since she wasn’t allowed to party by herself. “Can you get him ready for bed?” I asked. “We’d like to watch the stars for a bit.” Aurora smiled affirmatively before she took Roman from us and went into the motorhome.

Adamo smoothed his palm around my bare midriff. “Watch the stars, hmm?” His low voice and the kiss he planted on my neck sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. I slanted a look at the motorhome but the door was closed and Aurora wasn’t anywhere near the windows.

“It’s a beautiful night,” I said with a shrug, nodding up at the sky.

“Indeed,” Adamo said as he tugged me along toward our parked cars. “How about we do a little joyride to a more secluded place to watch the stars.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Smiling, I pushed past him and slid into the driver’s seat. “The winner drives.”

Adamo raised his hands, palms facing my way. “All right.” As always, the sight of his tattooed key warmed my heart.

After a few minutes of driving, the lights of the celebrations weren’t visible anymore. I parked the car off to the left of the road and turned the lights off, bathing us in darkness.

Stepping out into the cool night, I took a deep breath. I loved living in camp, the chaos and noise. I loved Roman, his stubbornness and recklessness. But I also loved these small slices of alone time that Adamo and I carved out for ourselves. I hopped on the hood of my car and Adamo pushed between my legs almost right away, slinging his arms around my waist and jerking me against his body. His erection pressed against my crotch, making me moan. We hadn’t had the energy to sleep with each other in the last seven days, but the thrill of winning had awakened my libido.

“You deserve a prize for winning,” Adamo murmured. “Lie back.”

I lowered myself to the still-warm hood. Adamo’s lips and tongue traced my belly as his fingers opened my pants and slid them down. Peering up at the sky, the myriad of stars twinkling beautifully against its black canvas, my lips parted in a low moan as Adamo’s mouth found my center. I fought the urge to close my eyes as the pleasure rose higher, tightening a knot deep in my core. I came with a cry, the stars in the sky blending with the lights bursting before my eyes as the sensations overwhelmed me.

Soon Adamo wrapped his arms around me once more, pulling me up against him, and we made love. The stars became meaningless as our gazes locked. We didn’t look anywhere but at each other until we came and lay spent on the hood, wrapped up in each other, my leg thrown over Adamo’s hip.

“How long do you think will we continue to live this nomad life?” I asked breathlessly.

Adamo kissed my hand then my cheek. “Until we’re old and gray, or old and bald in my case.”

“You have thick hair. You won’t go bald.”

Adamo chuckled. “That’s your main concern.”

I nudged him hard. “You think we can still race cars when we’re eighty? I doubt we’ll win a single qualification race.”

“Do you want to settle down in a nice suburb?”

“Yeah, right,” I said sarcastically, then yawned. It had been a long day but lying in Adamo’s arms under the night sky, listening to the soft whoosh of the wind and the occasional chirp of a cricket was too good to exchange it for sleep.

“Let’s just take it one day at a time. That always worked really well for us, don’t you think?”

“It worked perfectly,” I said. “I still can’t believe we’re here today, married with a child, without a war between our families at our back. Maybe it’s karma’s way of making up for the shitshow that was my childhood.”

“Maybe,” Adamo murmured. “Or maybe you just fought for your happiness, like I did.”

“I am happy,” I said—sometimes it was still hard to believe. “As a teen, I always thought I’d end up as a depressed, chain-smoking mid-thirty single lady with a drinking problem who’d die of lung cancer or a liver cirrhosis.”

Adamo burst out laughing. “Our emo teen selves would have had a field day together. I thought I’d either die of an overdose or because Remo killed me.”

“I guess it’s good that we didn’t cross paths during that time.”

“I’m just glad that we met. I can’t imagine life without you in it.”

I brought my face even closer to his. “Every day since you’ve been in my life has been better than any day before we met.”

I kissed him and he pulled me even closer until I could hardly breathe, but I clung to him. “There won’t ever be another day without you in my life.”