Chapter 24
Aria’s POV
I storm out of Enzo’s office, my pulse hammering in my ears, my skin still burning from the way they spoke to me.
They think they can control me?
That I’ll just fall in line just because they’re powerful? Screw that.
1 take the stairs two at a time, fists clenched at my sides. I won’t go to dinner. I won’t play their stupid little game. I have nothing to say to them.
When I reach my room, I slam the door shut and press my back against it, exhaling sharply.
They’re just men.
Men who think the world bends to their will.
Men who think I will bend.
Not happening.
Trying to Shake Them Off
I kick off my shoes and yank my sweater over my head, throwing it onto the bed. My body is still tense, my heartbeat still erratic, my mind racing with a dozen emotions I don’t want to acknowledge.
Anger.
Frustration.
And something else I refuse to name.
I cross the room, pulling open the en–suite bathroom door. The large, modern space is practically begging to be in a luxury home magazine–black marble countertops, a walk–in shower with glass walls and a tub so deep I could drown in it.
Tempting.
I strip off my jeans and underwear, tossing them into a pile before stepping under the hot spray of the shower.
The moment the water hits my skin, I let out a slow breath.
This is what I need.
I tilt my head back, letting the heat soothe the tension in my muscles. But no matter how hard I try to shake them off, they’re still there.
The triplets.
Dante, with his silent authority and those all–seeing eyes.
Enzo, with his calculating presence and that damn arrogance.
Matteo, with his lazy smirks and the way he always seems to be amused by me.
I scowl at the thought, lathering my body with soap more aggressively than necessary.
I can’t let them get into my head.
I won’t.
By the time I step out of the shower, steam clings to every surface, and my body feels relaxed but not at ease. The moment
I look at my reflection in the mirror, I can still see it-
The way they looked at me..
Like they already knew how this would end.
Like I was the only one still pretending to fight.
A Failing Distraction
I wrap a towel around myself and walk back into the room, my fingers digging into my damp hair as I sigh.
I need a distraction.
I grab the remote from the nightstand and flop onto the bed, my towel slipping slightly as I lean back against the pillows.
Something light.
Something that will stop my brain from replaying every little moment from today.
I flick through Netflix, settling on some random rom–com. Within minutes, the main characters are throwing sarcastic jabs at each other, and I try to focus.
I really do.
But I don’t laugh at the witty banter.
I don’t swoon at the slow–burn romance.
Because all I can think about is them.
The way Enzo’s voice dipped when he told me to sit.
The way Dante’s presence alone made it impossible to breathe.
The way Matteo’s lips curled around the words piccola like he was enjoying this game far too much.
I press the heel of my palm against my forehead, groaning. “What is wrong with me?”
This is not happening.
I’m not some girl who gets all twisted up over a few words.
And I’m sure as hell not letting three arrogant, controlling bastards worm their way into my thoughts.
1 grab the remote and turn up the volume, drowning everything else out.
By the time the clock on my nightstand hits 8:00 PM, I’m curled up in bed, wearing an oversized hoodie and black cotton shorts, my hair still damp from the shower.
The movie has long since ended, replaced by the soft hum of background noise from my phone as I scroll mindlessly.
I glance at the clock again.
Dinner was at eight.
Good. Let them sit there and wait.
I shift onto my side, letting out a small, satisfied sigh-
Then-
A knock.
I freeze.
A second later, the knock comes again.
Firm. Unhurried.
My stomach tightens.
I don’t need to ask who it is. I already know.
I stay silent, hoping he’ll leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead, the door handle turns.
I bolt upright just as a sharp crack echoes through the room-
And then he’s there.
Matteo.
Standing in the doorway, shoulder resting against the frame, looking like he owns the place.
I blink. “Are you serious?”
He gives me a slow, lazy once–over, his lips twitching. “Hope you didn’t like that lock, piccola.”
My pulse kicks up a notch. “You broke my door?”
“Mm. Not much of a door if it breaks that easily.” He steps inside, the faint scent of expensive cologne and something undeniably him filling the space. “You coming to dinner, or do I have to carry you?”
I narrow my eyes. “Try it, and I will stab you.”
Matteo smirks. “Kinky.”
I grab a pillow and hurl it at his face.
He catches it effortlessly, his smirk widening. “Feisty.”
I cross my arms. “I told you–I’m not hungry.”
Matteo tsks, shaking his head. “That’s adorable. You think you have a choice.”
Before I can react, he’s already in front of me, fingers curling around my wrist.
I yank back, but he doesn’t let go–he doesn’t even flinch. His grip is firm, warm, unyielding.
“Let me go,” I hiss.
He leans in, voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Make me.”
A shiver runs through me before I can stop it.
His lips barely move, but the challenge in his voice is laced with something darker.
Something that makes my breath catch.
I hate him.
I hate that he’s this close.
I hate the heat curling in my stomach, hate the way my pulse betrays me.
Matteo notices.
Of course, he notices.
And the worst part?
He smirks.
