Aria’s POV)
Pain shot through my ankle the second I tried walkingon my own. I sucked in a sharp breath, clenching my teeth as I tried to push myself up. Before I could even register what was happening, strong hands slid under my knees and back, fifting me effortlessly into the air.
“What the hell-”
“Relax, Piccola.” Matteo’s voice was smug, amused–like he was enjoying this way too much. “You’re not walking on that
leg.”
My body instantly tensed. I twisted in his hold, shoving against his shoulder. “Put me down. I can walk.”
Matteo scoffed, his grip on me tightening as he started toward the house. “Yeah? You were doing a great job back there, flat on your ass.”
I glared up at him, but the bastard just smirked.
His arms were firm around me, his body heat bleeding through his shirt and into my skin. I hated how solid and warm he felt, how natural it seemed for him to carry me like I weighed nothing.
I hated it even more that a small, traitorous part of me didn’t want him to let go.
Nope. Not happening.
I turned my face away, trying to ignore the way my heart thumped against my ribs.
As Matteo carried me toward the house, I forced myself to focus on something–anything–other than the fact that I was
in his arms.
That’s when I saw them.
Near the stables, just past the barn, a black van was parked by the storage shed. A group of men in dark suits stood near it, speaking in hushed voices.
The moment my eyes landed on them, they froze.
One of them, tall with sharp features, glanced at Matteo, then back at me. He whispered something to another guy.
A strange, uncomfortable feeling curled in my stomach.
They didn’t want me to see them.
Matteo’s grip around me shifted slightly–just enough for me to notice the sudden tension in his arms.
I glanced up at him, catching the hard set of his jaw.
He saw them too. He knew exactly what I saw.
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Lew
I opened my mouth, about to ask but before I could, we were already at the house. Matteo strode inside like nothing happened.
And that only made my unease worse.
The second we stepped into the living room, Dante and Enzo were already waiting.
Their sharp gazes immediately flicked to me.
“What happened?” Enzo asked, his voice flat but laced with something close to concern.
Matteo set me down on the couch, shrugging. “She fell.”
Dante’s frown deepened. “Where?”
I rolled my eyes. “On the ground? Like people do when they trip?”
Matteo chuckled under his breath, but Enzo just stared at me, his piercing blue eyes narrowing.
“You shouldn’t be getting hurt, gattina.”
1
I nearly groaned. They were being ridiculous. It was a simple fall, I was fine.
But there was something about the way they watched me–like they actually cared. Like I was something fragile, something important.
I didn’t know how to deal with that.
Dante tossed Matteo the first aid kit.
I immediately reached for it. “I can do it myself.”
Matteo arched a brow. “Yeah? Try reaching your ankle without wincing.”
I did. Failed.
Matteo smirked, kneeling down in front of me. “That’s what I thought.”
Before I could protest, his hands were on me.
His fingers slid up my leg, pushing up the cuff of my jeans, barely grazing my skin.
A sharp shiver ran up my spine.
I hated how hyper–aware I was of him. The warmth of his touch. The roughness of his fingers. The way my pulse hammered against my throat like a traitor.
I prayed he wouldn’t notice.
But Matteo always noticed.
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His smirk deepened. “Cold, gattina?”
I scowled, ignoring the way my face burned. “Go to hell.”
He chuckled, slow and deep, but his movements were surprisingly gentle as he wrapped my ankle. Careful. Almost tender.
I hated it.
Because it made me feel something.
And I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him.
As Matteo finished wrapping my ankle, my mind drifted back to what I saw outside.
The men in black. The van. The whispers. The way they had stopped talking when I got close.
I lifted my gaze, glancing at Dante and Enzo.
They stood near the window, talking in low, hushed voices.
The second my eyes landed on them, they stopped.
A chill ran down my spine.
They were hiding something.
Something big.
Matteo stood up, rolling his shoulders. “All done.”
Before I could say anything, Dante stepped forward.
He leaned down, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to my forehead.
“Be careful next time, gattina.”
My breath caught in my throat.
Before I could even process that, Enzo moved next.
His lips lingered against my forehead just a second longer. “Rest, Aria.”
I barely had time to react before Matteo leaned in too.
His forehead touched mine for a heartbeat, his breath warm against my skin, before he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to my temple.
“Try not to fall for me too hard, Piccola,” he murmured.
My heart stopped.
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The warmth of their lips, the unexpected tenderness of the moment–it was too much.
Too much care. Too much gentleness.
Too much them.
I clenched my fists, forcing the burning in my chest to disappear.
I scowled. “Get out.”
Matteo just chuckled, stepping back.
Dante and Enzo exchanged a look. They saw through me. They always did.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind a tangled mess.
I should be annoyed. I should be pissed.
Instead, all I could think about was how they made me feel safe.
And that was dangerous.
Because they were possessive, overbearing, too much.
And yet…
When they touched me, I didn’t pull away.
When they kissed my forehead, I wanted to melt.
And then there was the black van. The whispering men. The secrets.
The brothers were hiding something.
Something big.
And I had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, it would change everything.
Chapter Comments
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kitten
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piccola means babe, or small and neat
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