Page 25 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

“You’re an idiot too.”

I’m about to sag to the floor so I work my way to the couch. “Probably.”

“Unless you want to die, in which case, being an asshole to the person caring for you is a smart move.”

My lips twitch upward despite the mind-numbing heat and pain I feel. “Did you talk to your father like this?”

“No, because I am smart.”

I drop to the couch. “You’re not afraid of me, then.”

“Right now? No.”

I nod, feeling strangely relieved by that.

“Why do you ask?”

“About how you talk to your dad?”

She nods.

“Because you’re blunt. You’re confrontive. Your father doesn’t strike me as a man who would tolerate that.”

She snorts. “No.”

“But he wasn’t able to take that away from you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

I’m not sure how I’m still upright. “It is.”

An awkward silence falls between us. I watch as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book. It strikes me how calming it was to listen to her read earlier, even though it's not a story I'd normally care about.

A strange thought crosses my mind. She’ll make a good mother someday, the kind who reads bedtime stories to her kids every night. But then I remember who she's supposed to marry, and the image of her reading to my future siblings makes my stomach churn. Actually, that’s not the bit that makes me sick. It’s thinking about my father making those babies with her that threatens to make me vomit.

I push the thought away. For now, we’re stuck in this netherworld, and so I’ll focus on that. I lie on the couch, unable to remain upright any longer. “Will you read to me some more?”

“No.”

Disappointment lances through me. “Will you tell me how the story ends? Do Willoughby or Edward redeem themselves?”

“Willoughby, no. He lives the rest of his life knowing he gave up love for money.”

“Good. He fucking deserves that.”

“Edward and Elinor marry and live happily ever after.”

I suppose I could see that coming. “And does Colonel Brandon ever confess his love for Marianne?"

Bella raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said Brandon was a putz for pining after silly Marianne?"

"Maybe I was too hasty in my judgment. Come on, humor a dying man."

"You're not dying.” But I can see the worry in her face as she looks at me. “Yes, he wins the girl.”

"So the young girl marries the infirm thirty-six-year-old after all?"

A small smile plays at the corners of Bella's lips. "Yes, there's hope for you yet."

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