Page 220 of Tangled up in You

What lay before me was nothing short of extraordinary. Their so-called "cabin" loomed majestically, two stories of craftsman-style architecture rising above the pristine blanket of snow. Someone took the time to carve an entrance adorned with intricately fashioned stonework that guided my gaze to a sturdy wooden door, its exquisite wrought-iron handle whispering promises of the warmth that awaited. Expansive windows graced the facade, filtering soft winter light into the cozy interior, teasing my curiosity with glimpses of what lay beyond. The inviting porch curled around the cabin like an open embrace, beckoning me to step inside. At the same time, a mixture of excitement and nerves surged through me at the thought of being confined with the enigmatic Nico, next-in-line boss for the Bruno family and his two best friends.

I stopped at the threshold. What am I doing? Have I made a terrible mistake? Fear and uncertainty gripped my heart, constricting it until I couldn't inhale.

I remembered the meeting with Don Lorenzo and my decision - it felt right, defying my father. Yet, the reality of myagreement sank in, and I couldn't shake the feeling of trading one prison for another. I had freed myself from my father's control only to step into the grasp of Nico Sansone and his men. Had I considered what this month would entail?

Stepping into the cabin, I felt warmth enveloping me, a comforting contrast to the biting cold I had left behind. I glanced back at the storm outside; suddenly, heavy snowfall obscured the world beyond the window.

"Damn, it picked up out there," Franco muttered, shaking the snow from his jacket as he walked in behind me, dropping his bags at the door.

Nico leaned against the door; his eyes locked on the whirling white storm outside. I'm glad we left when we did.

Giovanni, still brushing snowflakes from his dark hair, shrugged. "A little snow never hurts anyone. Besides, it adds to the ambiance, right? A perfect night for secrets and stories," he said with a sly smile.

I walked around the entrance hall, where the high ceilings showcased exposed wooden beams. The faint scent of cedar enveloped me, connecting me to the beauty of nature. With a low whistle of awe, I took in the grand stone fireplace that occupied one wall. Its hearth was spacious enough to hold a small family of logs waiting to be ignited on cool nights.

As Franco walked over to the fireplace, I couldn't help but admire how he moved. He knelt, his legs strong and defined, and as he bent forward to light the logs, I found my gaze lingering on his firm butt. The way he worked, focusing intently as he struck the match and brought the fire to life, was captivating.

I eagerly awaited those nimble fingers, coaxing my body to life. Would he love gently, cherishing every moment, or passionately take what he desired? The thought thrilled me, adding to the warmth of the flames.

I had to tear my gaze away from Franco before he sensed my thoughts and redirected my attention to the heart of the home: the expansive chef's kitchen. I realized this one room was so large that my entire loft in NYC would practically fit inside, creating a culinary paradise that made me smile. The polished granite countertops shone under the warm light, and a massive island sat gloriously at the center, perfect for gatherings. The top-of-the-line appliances sparkled like treasures, ready for some culinary magic.

At that moment, I realized a pot was simmering on the stove, emitting a tempting soup scent in the air. I stepped closer, intrigued. "What's cooking over there?" I asked, glancing over at Giovanni, who leaned casually against the counter.

"The housekeeper stocked everything up before she left," he replied with a grin. "Hope you're feeling inspired."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nico and Franco, who exchanged knowing looks. "What about dinner? Are we doing this together?"

Franco chuckled, "Well, that depends. We were hoping you'd take the lead in the kitchen. You handle the food, and we'll handle everything else."

I couldn't help but laugh. "So, you're saying you want me to do all the hard work?"

Nico shrugged playfully. "Someone's got to ensure we eat well during our stay." I rolled my eyes but sensed a warmth spreading within me.

"It looks amazing. Margo outdid herself again. I can't wait to taste you. I mean, your cooking," Franco said, watching eagerly as I poured the soup.

Nico smirked, taking his bowl from me. "We are all waiting to see what you serve for us." It is only time that will determine your appreciation for what I offer.

"Yeah, yeah. But remember, this soup is the beginning of your service."

As we transitioned into the living room to eat, the open-concept layout created a sense of seamlessness, effortlessly flowing from the kitchen to the inviting space beyond.

"Don't push your luck," I laughed as I settled on the sofa, pulling my feet under me and enjoying the playful banter. The plush sofas were arranged around the crackling fireplace, their inviting warmth tempting me to sink into their embrace. Natural light streamed through the oversized windows, illuminating the intensifying blizzard and making it challenging to spot the recently landed helicopter. I lifted a spoonful to my lips, but my gaze drifted toward the front door.

That's when I noticed it—a familiar sight that twisted something in my stomach. My bags were leaning against the wall next to the guys' gear, casually waiting as if they belonged there. But they didn't belong here.

I didn't have the chance to pack anything.

How did my bags get here? The realization hit me like a sudden jolt of cold. I wouldn't say I liked believing being a predetermined certainty, a puzzle piece they had already concluded would seamlessly integrate into their strategy.

I look at Nico, his dark gray eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper, something that made my heart race. Franco and Giovanni exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. They appeared perfectly in tune with one another. Can I depend on them to explore this new world together? "How did my bag get here? Was I a foregone conclusion?" I asked, trying not to lose my temper.

Setting his bowl on the large coffee table, Nico looked straight at me, his dark grey eyes piercing through the dim light of the cabin. A chill ran down my spine—was it fear or desire? I couldn't tell anymore.

"We discussed this outside," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "The matter has been settled. We planned this trip, and you were always integral to it." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "So, yes, I packed your bags while you were at my father's this morning. It was already settled."

Panic flared inside me. "Nico, I can't-" I began, my heart racing.

His gaze intensified, unwavering. "Do you want to back out?"

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