Page 10 of Snowed in with the Mafia

Of the three of us, I’ve always been the voice of reason, the realist. Nico is a stickler for rules and legacy; love doesn’t factor into any of that for him, even if we weren’t trained to avoid loving anything or anyone. He bears the weight of the family on his shoulders, a burden passed down from generations of stern, cold predecessors who will not accept failure.

Vincenzo, on the other hand, is steadfast in his belief that he is incapable of falling for a woman. Vince has unwavering trust issues.

But me, I’m an open book—no scars, at least not emotional ones.

The thing is, if we didn’t close the book on her immediately, tell the Vergine Selettore to send someone else from the onset, it’s entirely too late now. She’s woven herself into the fiber of our beings, forever and eternal.

I’m intrigued by her. In the time she’s been in our presence, I’m captivated by the way she moves, the way her sweet, slender throat bobs when she swallows, and the faint scent of coconut oil, baby powder, and vanilla shampoo that permeates the air around us.

I’m curious to see how else she can affect me. What my hands will feel like on her body, her wetness in my mouth, her walls closing around my cock while Nico and Vince fill the other side of her.

We expected her to arrive in the ceremony room in her virgin attire, ready to offer her body to us. Instead, she dropped a bombshell about her uncle’s plot to force a union between us.

Who would have thought such a thing? I grin.

“Please, there must be a way I can leave. I can’t be here. I need to go back home,” she says, pleading so prettily that my cock hardens all over again.

“But you belong with us now,” I reply.

“No, I don’t. I belong back home, on the farm. With my sister, Gianna. After everything I told you, you shouldn’t want me here. I’m your enemy… well, I’m related to your enemy—the man who was going to deceive you in the worst way possible, remember? You should not want me breathing the same air as you.”

“Would it make a difference if we already knew everything about you?” Vince asks.

“What do you mean?” she asks, stepping back.

“Do you think we wouldn’t make it our business to know every single thing there is to know about our virgin, Alessia? The woman whose body we’re going to fill with our cum until she’s swollen with our child?” Nico inquires.

She gasps, her soft, cushiony lips parting in shock, and the sound unanimously seeps into our blood, coursing through our veins and disrupting our thoughts.

“But I’m a Moreno,” she cries. “My father was head of the Passero family, a family notorious for being liars, cheats, swindlers, and gamblers. Just the worst people ever.”

“We’re aware of your history, kitten,” Vince says with a smile.

“No, I don’t think you are, or you wouldn’t be saying this. You wouldn’t want me to be your virgin. You wouldn’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole wrapped in thorns. Do you think I’m lying?”

“Not at all,” I reply.

True, her family is all that and more. A grave insult to the underground world where honor among the families matters more than it does in civilian situations. The ultimate sin of families belonging to theReale Doratois we don’t shit where we sleep. And that’s what the Moreno family did. They betrayed other families, backstabbing them in deals out of greed and running the Passero name through the mud.

And still we want her.

We didn't expect her to tell us everything. For one thing, we would never have guessed she would charge us for the information we already had, even if she didn't know it at the time.

But her strategy—coming up with her own counter-plan to her uncle's to reclaim her farm—is ingenious. It took real balls to try to negotiate with us. Men twice her size would quake in their boots at the thought of exchanging information for cash. They’d give us the information and thank us for the opportunity to speak. She surprised us in the most amusing way possible.

“Okay, tell me what you think you know.” She crosses her arms over her chest and purses her lips.

“We know that Tony Moreno is blackmailing the Vergine Selettore into making sure he sent us a Moreno virgin to aid his grandiose ideas to get back into power,” Vince says.

“Not only will Moreno be fifty million dollars richer—which is the price we were paying for you—but he planned to exploit us, using our name with our virgin,” I say, then continue.

“You see, the Vergine Selettore, or Liana as we know her, decided to come out with the truth to us, instead of falling for Moreno’s blackmail. She chose wisely. We know about her son, the one she couldn’t have as a virgin selector since she herself must remain one while in position.”

Alessia pales before us, doing her utmost not to fidget as she stands straight and proud, her eyes sparkling with confusion, fear, and that ever-familiar pride.

“She also mentioned that your uncle is blackmailing you,” Vince says softly. “About your farm.”

“Why was I allowed to come here if you knew everything? Why did you let me get so far?”

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