Page 28 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I watched how my father treated Ava and her artistic talents and decided, why bother getting a hobby? I’ve always done what I was told, became the perfect daughter, perfect wife-in-training. I’ve always seen it as biding my time until I could move on. I guess I was naïve to think that when I moved on, I’d have new options.”

I want to tell her the world is her oyster, but that would be a lie.

On the fourth morning, I wake up feeling groggy but significantly better than I have in days. The fever that's been ravaging my body seems to have broken, leaving me weak but clear-headed. As I blink away the last vestiges of sleep, I become acutely aware of a warm presence beside me.

Turning my head, I see Bella sleeping peacefully next to me. Her dark hair is tousled, and her face is relaxed in slumber. Something tightens in my chest at the sight of her, a feeling I can't quite name.

For a moment, I allow myself to drink in the sight of her. The curve of her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. It's intimate in a way I've never experienced before, and it scares the hell out of me.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious and more than a little gross after days of fever-induced sweating, I carefully extract myself from the bed. My wound protests as I move, a dull ache rather than the searing pain of before. It's progress, at least.

I make my way to the bathroom, eager to wash away the remnants of my illness and clear my head. As I turn on the shower and step under the spray, I can't shake the image of Bella sleeping beside me. I have a strange desire to stay in this safe little bubble we have away from the ugliness of life.

I savor the warm water cascading over my body. The steam envelops me, and I close my eyes, relishing the simple pleasure of feeling clean again.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bella's voice cuts through the steam, sharp with concern and a hint of anger.

"Taking a shower.”

Through the foggy glass of the shower door, I can see her blurry outline. She's standing there with her hands on her hips. She’s pissed, and it’s adorable.

"You shouldn't be up! You're still recovering," she scolds, taking a step closer to the shower.

It's only then that I realize she hasn't registered my state of undress. The thought makes me grin despite myself.

"If you're so worried about me, why don't you join me in here? Make sure I don't fall or something." I’m pushing the boundaries of acceptable banter.

For a moment, Bella just stands there, her mouth slightly agape, as if she’s just processed my state of undress behind the foggy glass.

I expect her to blush furiously and storm out. But to my surprise, her shock quickly morphs into something else entirely. Her eyes narrow, a spark of defiance igniting in their depths.

"You know what? Maybe I will," she says, her voice laced with a challenge.

Ut-oh. She’s called my bluff. My dick starts to get excited about it. "Be careful in this game, Bella. I have no problems with your joining me. You shouldn't level a threat if you're not willing to follow through."

My eyes lock with hers through the steamy glass, challenging her back. The air between us crackles with tension. It’s electric and dangerous.

Bella's hand hovers over the shower door handle. She's caught in a moment of indecision, teetering on the edge of something neither of us fully understands.

I should give her an out. But remember, I’m an asshole. “You should undress unless you want to get your pajamas wet. That is if you plan to back up your words?"

I see the conflict playing out on her face, the desire to prove herself warring with her natural caution. It’s only then I remember she’s likely a virgin. This game is nothing to me as I’ve seen plenty of women naked. I fucked in the shower before. But not her. This isn’t a game. As much as I’m dying for her to take that final step and join me, it’s wrong.

“Why don’t you hand me a towel and then find me some clothes? I’ll come out, and I promise I’ll behave.”

Her relieved expression tells me just how much of a douchebag my challenge to her was. She gets a towel, and I open the door, doing my best to hide myself so as not to make her more uncomfortable. It doesn’t escape my notice, though, how her gaze drops down to my dick.

I wrap the towel around my waist and step out of the shower. My dick isn’t full throttle, but there’s no mistaking it under the towel.

“Do you suppose Marianne was properly impressed with Colonel Brandon when she finally got a good look at him naked?”

Bella’s eyes widen, and she looks at me like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She swallows, and I see her inner snark coming back and it pleases me to no end.

“I suspect he got the better part of the deal having a young, nubile wife.”

I let my gaze rake over her, taking in her long, wavy hair, her perky tits, nipples hardened under her pajama top. “No doubt, you’re right about that.”

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