Page 76 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
“I don’t need protection,” I insisted, though my body betrayed me by pressing back against him, seeking more of the connection he offered. “I’ve been taking care of myself foryears. I’m practically self-sufficiency personified. I could teach a master class in emotional independence.”
“I know,” he acknowledged, his hand never leaving my heart, tracking each beat with focused attention. “Strong. Brave. But not alone anymore.”
The simple declaration shattered something fundamental inside me. As he continued to move within me, his body surrounding mine completely, I felt tears gathering again, not from physical sensation but from the emotional storm brewing inside me with overwhelming intensity.
This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just biology or circumstance or necessity. This was three separate connections forming simultaneously, three different relationships developing that somehow complemented rather than competed with each other. And all of them were reaching parts of me I’d kept carefully hidden, even from myself. Parts I’d locked away with extreme security.
When my orgasm built this time, it wasn’t explosive like with Mr. Iceflare or profound like with Mr. Enigma. It was gentle but inexorable, unstoppable in its approach, washing away everything I thought I knew about myself and leaving something new and frightening in its place.
I came with a quiet gasp, my body trembling in Mr. Storm’s protective embrace as pleasure radiated through me in gentle waves. He followed me over the edge with a low growl, his release joining the others inside me as his knot secured us together.
We stayed locked together, his body curved protectively around mine, his breath warm against my neck. As his knot gradually subsided, he didn’t immediately withdraw but instead pressed soft kisses along my shoulder, each touch gentle but deliberate. When he finally slipped from my body, the losswas almost painful, not physically but emotionally, as though something essential had been taken away.
Mr. Iceflare was there instantly, gathering me into his arms with surprising tenderness. His usual cold calculation was gone, replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable as he cradled me against his chest. His lips found mine in a kiss that wasn’t demanding or possessive but something else entirely, something that felt dangerously like affection.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured against my mouth, his hands running up and down my spine in soothing strokes.
“Just cold,” I lied, though the room was warm and his body warmer. The truth—that I was shaking from emotional overload, from the terrifying realization that these men were becoming important to me in ways I couldn’t afford—was too dangerous to admit.
Mr. Enigma joined us, his body pressing against my back, creating a Ty sandwich with me as the filling. His lips traced patterns on my shoulder, my neck, my ear, each touch reverent in a way that made my chest ache intensely.
“Liar,” he whispered, his voice warm with affection rather than accusation. “But we’ll let you have your secrets for now.”
For the next hour, they touched me, not sexually but with a tenderness that was somehow more intimate, more terrifying. Mr. Iceflare’s fingers traced the contours of my face with careful attention. Mr. Enigma’s hands stroked my back, my sides, my arms, each caress gentle but deliberate. Mr. Storm, always the observer, watched with those eyes that seemed to see through to parts of me I kept hidden even from myself.
My mind raced as their hands wandered over my body, each touch igniting not desire but something deeper, more frightening. Part of me wanted to sink into this moment, to accept the comfort they offered, to let myself believe that this connection between us could be real, could last beyond ourcaptivity. That part of me purred with contentment as Mr. Iceflare’s lips pressed against my forehead, as Mr. Enigma’s fingers tangled with mine, as Mr. Storm’s eyes tracked every subtle shift in my expression.
But another part, the part that had kept me alive and independent for years, screamed urgent warnings. These men were dangerous. Not just because they were mafia alphas who had threatened to hunt me down, but because they were making me feel things I’d spent my entire life avoiding. They were finding their way past defenses I’d thought impenetrable, reaching parts of me I’d kept carefully guarded with extreme security.
As they continued their gentle exploration, my fear grew alongside my longing with conflicting intensity. Each tender touch, each soft kiss, each moment of connection pushed me closer to an edge I wasn’t sure I could come back from. I was falling for them—all three of them—and if I didn’t get away soon, I might not be able to at all.
The opportunity came when Mr. Iceflare and Mr. Enigma became engrossed in a quiet conversation, their heads bent close together as they discussed something in low voices. Mr. Storm had moved away to retrieve water, his back turned as he poured from the pitcher left by the guards.
My heart pounded violently against my ribs as I slipped from the bed, my movements slow and deliberate to avoid drawing their attention. Each footfall felt deafening to my ears, though the alphas remained distracted by their respective tasks.
I didn’t look back as I reached the door. I couldn’t. If I did—if I saw the tenderness in Mr. Enigma’s eyes, the protectiveness in Mr. Storm’s posture, the unexpected vulnerability in Mr. Iceflare’s expression—I might not have the strength to leave.
As I closed the door behind me, my legs gave out, sending me sliding to the floor with my back against the solid wood. Mychest felt too tight, each breath a struggle as the enormity of what had happened—what I was feeling—crashed over me with overwhelming force.
I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape, not cries of pleasure this time, but something far more dangerous. My entire body shook with the effort of containing the emotional storm brewing inside me.
I was in serious trouble. The kind that didn’t go away with clever words or quick thinking. The kind that could destroy me from the inside out. The kind that made my previous problems look trivial by comparison.
For the first time in my life, I had no idea how to save myself. Because the threat wasn’t external anymore, it wasn’t De Luca or his guards or even the alphas themselves. The real danger was inside me, in the feelings I couldn’t seem to control, in the connections forming that I couldn’t seem to break.
I was falling in love with three alpha mafia bosses who had every reason to hate me.
And I had no idea how to stop. Not even my usual arsenal of sarcasm, deflection, and emotional distance could protect me from this. I was defenseless against my own heart, and that was scarier than any external threat I’d ever faced.
nineteen
. . .
I dragged a chair across the room, jamming it under the door handle with desperate urgency. As if a flimsy piece of furniture could stop three determined alpha mafia bosses if they really wanted to get to me.
But they couldn’t reach me. That was the one small mercy in this nightmare, their chains. Twenty-five feet of industrial-grade iron alloy that kept them tethered to the wall behind their beds, preventing them from reaching my door no matter how much they might want to.
“This is fine,” I said to myself, pacing my quarters restlessly. “Totally normal Tuesday. Just barricading myself away from three alpha mafia bosses I’m definitely not developing feelings for. Standard omega life problems.”
