Page 47 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

"That's… generous of you.”

That’s me. A fucking saint.

18

BELLA

Isit at the kitchen table, watching Nic make notes and plans. My body still tingles from our intimate encounter earlier. Who would have thought that being stuck in a cabin during a snowstorm with a Mafia underboss could lead to such pleasure?

But when I woke up from my nap alone, I began to second-guess everything. I didn’t regret letting Nic touch me, but I wondered what it all meant. Especially when I found him plotting revenge on his father like nothing had happened to us. But that’s what sex is like for men like him, right? It doesn’t mean anything.

He's made it clear that once this is over, I'll be sent away, whether it’s back to my father, to Ava, or on my own. At least he’s giving me a choice, although that choice doesn’t include staying with him.

The ache in my chest at that thought tells me I'm too invested, too enamored. Of course I've developed a crush on him. He's handsome, dangerous, and he's shown me pleasure I’ve never experienced before.

Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember his hands on my body. But that's all it was, a physical attraction and my naive heart latching onto the first man who's shown me real attention. My crush on him is just that—a crush. Something to look back on years from now and smile about. It'll make a good story someday, nothing more.

I need to stop acting like some lovesick teenager. Stop reading meaning into every touch, every look. I'm not stupid. I know how these things work.

The way he talks about my "freedom" after this is over makes it crystal clear that I'm a responsibility to him, a problem to solve. Maybe he feels guilty about almost delivering me to his monster of a father. Maybe he even feels protective of me. But love? Partnership? Those aren't even possibilities in his mind.

I force myself to think practically about my future. If I go to Ava, I'll have protection through the D'Amatos. If I strike out on my own, I’ll have to find work and figure out how to adult on my own. That scares me a bit because there’s so much I don’t know, and yet, the idea of living my own life, making my own choices even if they’re bad ones, is exciting.

I think about Ava again and realize she would have heard about the attempt on our lives and how we’re missing.

I clear my throat. "Can I call Ava to let her know I'm safe?"

Nic's head snaps up, his dark eyes narrowing. "No calls to anyone. We don't know who we can trust."

"But she's my sister." I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the chill of his rejection. "The D'Amatos could help us."

"The D'Amatos are part of The Outfit. Your sister's loyalty is to her husband's family now." He returns to his notes. "For all we know, they could be working with my father."

"Ava would never betray me." My voice cracks. Growing up, Ava was more than just my sister. She was my protector, myconfidante. The thought of not being able to reach out to her makes my chest ache.

“She might not have a choice. As you’ve reminded me, women have little knowledge or power in the family.”

He’s right, and yet my sense of the D’Amatos is that they respect their women. Lana D’Amato Lutz works in the family business. Ava makes it sound like her ideas are heard by her husband, Matteo.

I cross my arms. I’m probably pouting. “She might have information about my father’s business.”

Nic's expression softens slightly, but his words remain firm. "We can't risk it. The D’Amatos have an alliance with your father. They could be a part of this."

I nod, blinking back tears. I hate this new reality of being cut off from everyone I love, unable to trust even my own family.

I shake my head. “Not the sick stuff your father does.”

He arches a brow. “How do you know? Your father controls a dock… traffics drugs and guns, and probably people.”

My eyes widen. “People?”

“I’m sure that’s what my father’s interest in your father’s business is.”

The idea that anyone in my family would be a part of kidnapping and selling people makes me sick. I think back to the call I overheard.

“Your niece?”

Nic's jaw tightens. He sets down his pen and meets my eyes. "My father hasn’t met a woman or child he won’t sell.”

---