Page 24 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

“You don’t know shit, Nic Nardone.” I surprise myself by cursing as it’s not something I normally do. It speaks to how offended I am by him. He, of all people, should know that my situation isn’t of my choosing. “You think I’m a spoiled Mafia princess?”

He nods.

“You think I want to marry a man old enough to be my grandfather? You think I’ve chosen this for my life?” I lean closer to him. “I haven’t chosen anything in my life. And you’rean asshole because you, of all people, should know that women raised in the Mafia have no rights. It’s as stifling and restrictive as in Jane Austen’s time. Dick.”

Nic’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. “Save it. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

As my anger simmers, a dangerous thought creeps into my mind. Maybe I should just leave. I could take the car and find a safe place to call Ava. She’d know what to do. Or at least Matteo would.

I think of Ava's warnings, of the rumors about Don Nardone's cruelty. Maybe there's more truth to them than I wanted to believe. Ava was able to find a way out of three arranged marriages. She told me Matteo had arranged a new identity for her when she thought she’d escape from our father and her marriage to Gino Nardone. Maybe she and Matteo could help me escape too.

But even as the thought of leaving Nic forms, guilt washes over me. How can I abandon him when he's hurt and vulnerable? He may be infuriating, but he's also the only person standing between me and whoever wants us dead.

9

NIC

I’m such a fucking asshole. I blame pain and fire coursing through my veins, even though that’s no excuse. Especially since she’s the only source of relief I have right now. Not only is she tending my wound, but all night, my dreams were filled with her. Her gentle touch, her soothing voice. Nothing sexual like before. Just sweet and tender.

And today, she's been nothing but attentive, even reading to me. Instead of showing gratitude, I lashed out like a wounded animal. I insulted her, called her a spoiled princess. Now she's gone, leaving me alone in this room with nothing but regret for company. She could leave me to die here. I’m not afraid of death, but I’m not sure I want to die alone.

I groan, trying to sit up. My head spins, and I fall back against the pillows. Sweat beads on my forehead as fever grips me. I need her help, but how can I ask after what I said?

My anger isn't really at Bella. It doesn’t take a shrink to understand that my anger is at my father. The discussion of Marianne marrying Col. Brandon had me thinking of her upcoming nuptials to my father, and it burned in my gut hotter than this fever.

I close my eyes, picturing Bella's face. Her eyes, full of fire and intelligence. The way she stood up to me, refusing to be cowed. She's got spirit, this one. And my father… he'll crush it.

I've seen what happens to the women my father takes as wives. They start out full of life, but it doesn't take long for that light to dim. Some disappear, others end up broken shells of their former selves. And the truly unlucky ones? They end up dead.

The thought of Bella suffering that fate makes me feel sick. She deserves better than to be another casualty of my father's cruelty.

I remember her words about never being allowed to have her own life. Christ, I'm no better than my old man, am I? Keeping her here, treating her like she's nothing more than a pawn in this dangerous game.

My wound throbs, like God is punishing me for being such an asshole. I need to make this right. The best way to do that is to figure out who wants us dead and then help her escape my father, as well as hers.

But if I don't deliver her, my father's wrath will be swift and merciless. Gia and her children will be the first to feel his anger. I can't let that happen. I've spent my entire life protecting my little sister, and I won't stop now.

I groan, frustration and pain mingling as I shift in the bed. There has to be a way out of this mess. A way to keep Bella safe, protect Gia, and deal with whoever's behind this attack.

My fevered brain struggles to form a coherent plan. We need allies, information, and resources. I need to talk to Max. Hopefully, he’s protecting Gia and getting intel that can help me understand who’s got a hit on us. I need a phone. For a moment, I consider sending Bella out to buy one, but I quickly dismiss it. A resort town is bound to have surveillance everywhere. Gasstations, convenience stores, they all have cameras these days. One wrong move, and we're exposed.

I glance at the door, wondering where Bella is. After our argument, I wouldn't blame her if she's contemplating making a run for it. I hope she’s smart enough to know the dangers that lurk outside.

I stagger out of bed, gritting my teeth against the pain that shoots through my body. The room spins for a moment, but I steady myself against the wall. I need to find Bella, to make things right.

Slowly, I make my way down the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall for support. As I approach the living room, I hear the soft rustle of pages turning. My heart lifts a little. She hasn't left.

I round the corner, and there she is, curled up on an overstuffed chair with her book. A steaming mug of hot chocolate sits on the side table next to her. The scene is so… normal. Peaceful. Surreal, considering our situation.

"Bella," I croak.

She looks up, her expression guarded, although I see a flash of concern for me in her eyes. Even after what I said, she seems to worry about me.

"I'm sorry.” I'm not used to apologizing, so I’m not sure how to do it in a way that sounds sincere.

She nods but doesn't speak. Does she want more groveling?

“I’d like to say that it’s the pain, but the truth is, I’m just an asshole.”

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