Page 33 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

Along with the guilt, I feel warm inside. Not hot, like before when his hands touched me. This is more of an emotion, not sensations.

He shrugs. “No worries, Bella. Your secret is safe with me.” He carries the wood past me to the living area. I think maybe he’s annoyed at me. Did I say something wrong?

I follow him into the living area, watching as he sets the wood on the hearth.

“I need to look through the house to see if there’s a generator switch. Find the breaker box. It should be there,” he says, not looking over at me.

Grateful for the direction, I set off to explore the cabin. It's not large, but there are plenty of nooks and crannies to investigate. I find the breaker box tucked away in a hallway closet, but its array of switches and labels leaves me feeling out of my depth.

"I found it," I call out to Nic, "but I'm not sure what I'm looking at."

As I wait for him to join me, a wave of unease washes over me. The isolation of our situation suddenly feels oppressive. We're cut off from the world, trapped here with no way to call for help if something goes wrong.

My gaze drifts to Nic, watching him examine the electrical panel. Concern for his health mingles with the lingering spark of attraction, creating a confusing swirl of emotions in my chest. I want to reach out, to check his wound and make sure he's not overexerting himself. But I hold back, afraid of crossing another line.

"I don't see an extra switch for a generator here," Nic mutters, frowning at the panel.

His words snap me back to our current predicament.

"What does that mean for us?" I ask, trying to keep the worry from my voice.

“It means we’ll have to make a fire if the power goes out. Do you know how nosy the neighbors are here?”

I think about my friend and her family. “They come here for outdoor fun. I don’t know if they’re friends with neighbors.”

He shrugs. “We’ll need to be ready to leave here once we can get out of the drive.”

I nod, feeling a flutter of disappointment at leaving the cabin and fear of the unknown in New York.

I help Nic bring in more wood. He still seems annoyed, but he tells me his side hurts and he goes to lie down. I’m not sure I believe him, and I chastise myself for my impulsiveness at kissing him.

I spend most of the day trying to distract myself with a book, but my mind keeps wandering to Nic. Every so often, I check on him, torn between concern for his health and the lingering awkwardness from our kiss.

He seems content to give me space, never pushing or prying, which I appreciate. Or maybe he’s angry or disgusted by me. I’m afraid that by kissing him, things have changed. I miss talking to him, the playful banter, the easy conversations we'd shared during his feverish days.

I make dinner, and I eat at the table, while he takes his to the living room. When it gets late, I head back to the bedroom to change into my pajamas and get ready for bed. I debate moving to another room for the night. Things are awkward enough now. It will be worse to sleep in the same bed. Besides, he’s much improved. I don’t need to be on hand if his health takes a turn for the worse.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Nic is lying in the bed, looking tired, but alert. His eyes meet mine, and all the guilt and yearning swirl in a toxic mix.

"I’ll go sleep in the other room.” I turn to leave.

"Stay. We’re safer if we stay close.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

I want to tell him I’m not worried about that. In fact, I’m a little disappointed, but I shake that thought out of my head. What is wrong with me? I can’t be lusting after my fiancé’s son!

I waver, torn between what I know I should do and what I want. The memory of waking up next to him, feeling safe and protected, tugs at me.

"Are you sure?"

He nods, his expression sincere. "I'm sure. Come to bed, Bella."

Reluctantly, I climb in beside him, hyper-aware of his presence. As I settle under the covers, I feel simultaneously relieved and on edge. I’m glad to have him near, yet acutely conscious of the invisible line between us. It takes a while, but finally, I fall asleep to the rhythmic sounds of Nic’s breathing.

I wake slowly.The room is dark, but I can see the glow of dawn starting to creep through the curtains. As consciousness returns, I’m aware of the warm body beside me. Nic. My breath catches as I turn my head to look at him, still fast asleep.

In slumber, his face is relaxed, free from the tension and worry that usually creases his brow. I study him, taking in every detail. The strong line of his jaw, the stubble darkening his cheeks, the way his dark lashes rest against his skin. He looks younger like this, almost vulnerable.

A surge of emotion rises in my chest. It's not just attraction, though that's certainly part of it. There's a tenderness, a protectiveness that surprises me. I want to shield him from harm, to ease the burdens he carries. I’m sure he’d laugh at that.He’s the big, scary Mafia guy and I’m just a lowly woman, born to serve the family.

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