Page 73 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

"Your dinner is getting cold." I cut him off, trying to get away before I accept his apology like I really want to do. I want to fall back into the warmth we shared at the cabin and the first weeks here. But what would be the point? Soon, his father will be dead and I’ll be… well, I’m not sure, but it won’t be with him.

His hand reaches out and takes my arm before I can pass him. “How can I make this up to you?”

The hurt and frustration I've bottled up for weeks threatens to spill over. “It's not just the harsh words or the dismissal of my attempts at normalcy. It's that you control every aspect of my life here, but you're barely present in it."

Nic's jaw tightens. I doubt he expected me to actually answer. Or maybe he thought I’d just forgive him and move on.

“You leave me alone all day. I can’t go anywhere or talk to anyone, then you come home, eat my food and ignore me, expecting me to exist in this void until you need something. I'm not even allowed to make holiday plans."

"It's for your safety?—”

"I understand the need for caution, but you treat me like I'm too stupid to be trusted with anything beyond cooking your meals."

He stares at me. He looks uncertain as to how to respond. Maybe he's not used to anyone challenging him this directly.

"I'm alone here, Nic. All day, every day. And when you are here, you're distant, wrapped up in your plans. I feel like I'm just another piece in your chess game against your father, useful for now but ultimately, disposable."

I tug my arm free of his hand. "You pretend to care while keeping me just as confined, just as powerless as my father or any man in our world would. You’re no different from any of them."

Nic's usual mask of control slips, revealing something raw and uncertain in his eyes. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture I recognize as a sign of internal struggle. Good. Maybe he’s got a conscience after all.

“I know you’re eager to get rid of me, but I could help you, support you. I can do more than cook and keep the bathroom clean. I could be a partner if you weren’t such a misogynistic, controlling jerk.”

His eyes widen.

I close out my tirade. “I’m tired of feeling alone and unimportant, but of course, why would you care? There’s nothing more important to you than killing your father. I’m sorry I’m distracting you from that.” I nod toward the counter. “Enjoy your dinner.”

I leave the kitchen hoping he kills his father soon because I’m done here.

27

NIC

Istand frozen in the kitchen. Bella’s words gut me to the core. Not just because of the pain I hear in her voice. No. It’s because I’m the cause of her anguish.

She's right. I've been treating her like a child, someone to control and dismiss, when she's proven herself capable and loyal time and again.

My chest tightens as I think back to the cabin, how she nursed me back to health when she could have left me to die. How she's adapted to this life on the run without complaint. Until now. Until I made her feel worthless and alone.

The anger I felt over her call to Ava seems petty now. Yes, it was risky, but she didn't betray our location or my plans. She just needed a connection, someone to talk to while I left her trapped here, day after day.

I scrape my hands over my face as memories of our time together flood back. The easy conversations, her laugh, the way she makes this safehouse feel like a home. I've been pushing her away, telling myself it's for her own good, that she deserves better than this life. Better than me. But in doing so, I've made her feel like she's nothing more than a responsibility, a burden.

I leave the kitchen to hunt her down. I find her in the extra bedroom. She’s been crying, but she does her damnedest to hide it. She doesn’t want me to see her pain, and that makes me feel even shittier.

"I'm sorry. "I've been an asshole." I’ve already said this, but I don’t know what else to say. How can I make this right?

She doesn't respond, just stares at me like I’m a monster. Like her father. Like my father.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things I should have said, should have done differently. I could blame it on the pressure of taking down my father, on keeping us both alive. But the truth is, I'm terrified of how much I need her, how much it will destroy me to lose her.

I take a step toward her, wanting to pull her into my arms, to promise I'll do better. But I stop myself, knowing I haven't earned that right. Not yet. Not until I prove with actions, not just words, that she matters. That she's not just someone to protect but someone to cherish.

I gather my courage and move closer. "I've been treating you like a prisoner instead of a partner. Like someone who needs controlling rather than respecting."

She inhales a breath but stays quiet.

"The truth is, you've proven yourself capable from the moment we met. You dealt with our driver’s attempt on our lives. You thought quickly, coming up with the cabin as a place for us to hide. You drove us there. You saved my life. You've adapted to everything I've thrown at you without complaint." I kneel down in front of her, ready to grovel. "And instead of appreciating that, I've been acting like a dictator."

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