Page 7 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

Her dark, wavy hair frames a face that's both innocent and striking. Her eyes are large, almond-shaped, giving her a doe-eyed innocence, but looking into their stormy gray depths, I see fire and intelligence. They scan the room, taking everything in with a sharp awareness that belies her youth.

As she moves toward us, I notice the graceful gait of her walk, the soft swell of her tits beneath her sweater. I force myself to look away, disgusted by my own reaction. This girl is meant for my father, for God's sake.

I’m not a man who is led by his dick. Sure, I notice attractive women. I fuck them sometimes. But I’m always in control, even over my dick. So, I’m caught off guard by the visceral response I have to her.

“This is my daughter, Bella,” Rinella introduces. “Bella, this is Niccolo Nardone, Don Nardone’s son. He’ll escort you to New York.”

She studies me, and something in her eyes has me captivated. There's a fire in her eyes that speaks to intelligence and perhaps defiance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nardone.” Her voice is clear and steady. No trembling, no shy glances at the floor. She meets my gaze head-on, a hint of challenge in her expression.

“You too, Miss Rinella.” I’ve never envied my father anything until this moment. I’m intrigued by this woman who is too young to have such knowledge and wisdom in her eyes. “Are you prepared for the journey ahead?”

A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, I'm more than prepared. I've been looking forward to this new chapter in my life." I can see she understands her role, but as I study her, I can also see there’s more to her lurking beneath the surface.

It’s a fucking shame that this new chapter will likely break her. “Have you been to New York before?”

She shakes her head. “My sister has when… well… that was a few years ago.”

I’m reminded that this original deal had been made with her older sister. I glance at the woman standing near the door, whose features suggest she’s related to Bella and likely the woman my father first contracted to marry.

I'm torn between admiration and unease for Bella. On one hand, her spirit is refreshing. She’s not just a Stepford wife. Nor is she a vapid gold digger, the other type I often find myself around. On the other hand, I can’t imagine that spirit will survive under my father’s abusive and oppressive rule.

“I’m sure you need to get back to New York,” her father says, clearly ready to be on to the next step of this deal.

I nod. “My plane is waiting.”

I watch Bella interact with her family, saying her goodbyes. I can see she’s close to her sister. With her parents, she’s more reserved, playing the part of a dutiful daughter. It suggests she knows how to compartmentalize and protect herself emotionally. Maybe if she’s good at her role, she’ll fare better with my father than his other wives. Who am I kidding? This vibrant young woman is about to have her spirit crushed. And I'm the one delivering her to that fate.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The guilt gnaws at me. I too have always been able to compartmentalize, to separate business from emotion. Even before meeting her, I struggled at the idea of bringing her to my father, but now, after seeing her, meeting her, something about her is making this task extraordinarily painful.

I walk her to the car, searching my brain for a way out, a loophole that could save her from my father's clutches. But every scenario I run through my head ends in disaster.

I assist Bella into the back seat of the car, my hand barely grazing hers as I help her in. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through me, and I quickly pull away, uncomfortable with my own reaction.

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes smile at me, bright and hopeful. Guilt flares in my gut like a fucking inferno. Now I’m pissed. Why did my father have to put me in this position? Why is this woman getting under my skin? She’s just a kid. I’m practically old enough to be her father, but these feelings aren’t at all paternal. Protective, yes, but not in a fatherly way.

The driver takes her bag and puts it in the trunk. I get into the passenger seat in front, hoping that by not sitting next to her, I can gain the distance I need to fulfill my duty.

As the driver heads up the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Bella in the rearview mirror. She's looking out the window, a small smile playing on her lips as she watches her family home disappear from view. There's an eagerness in her expression that makes my stomach churn. She has no idea what she's getting into.

I turn my gaze to the front, my eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to ignore the presence of the young woman in the back seat.

Suddenly, her voice cuts through the quiet. "Mr. Nardone, I just realized something."

I glance at her in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. "What's that, Miss Rinella?"

"Well," she says, a hint of amusement in her tone, "Once I marry your father, I'll be your stepmother."

I can’t explain why those words impact me the way they do. Anger and resentment boil over. “You’re not the first stepmother I’ve had. You’ll probably not be the last.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

In the mirror, I see Bella's face fall, the light in her eyes dimming. She looks away, out the window. I’m a fucking asshole. She's just a young girl, excited about her new life, however misguided that excitement might be. And here I am, crushing her spirit before she even reaches New York. Then again, maybeI’m doing her a service. She needs to know that however difficult her life was with her father, it will be a million times worse with my father.

I sniff and turn my gaze forward again, deciding I’ve done her a favor. Nardones are sick bastards. The sooner she understands that, the sooner she’ll be prepared for living in hell.

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