Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles
Chapter 41
Aria’s POV
The car ride is suffocating.
No one speaks, but the silence isn’t comfortable–it’s thick, charged with something dark and heavy. I can feel it in the way Enzo grips the steering wheel, his knuckles pale from how hard he’s holding on. In the way Matteo hums lowly in the backseat, entirely too amused by whatever the hell just happened back there. In the way Dante stares out the window, quiet, calculating, absorbing every little thing.
I sit rigid in my seat, my fingers curling into my lap, my heartbeat refusing to settle.
I shouldn’t feel this rattled.
But the memory of Enzo’s hand on my waist still lingers, burning like a brand. His grip had been tight, commanding, like be hadn’t just been pulling me away from that sleazy man–but staking a claim.
The worst part?
I hadn’t wanted him to let go.
Matteo finally breaks the silence with a low chuckle, his voice smooth and lazy, like he’s lounging on a throne instead of
in the backseat of a car.
“You’ve got him riled up, gattina. That’s dangerous.
I don’t look at him, but I feel his smirk. I can hear it in his voice.
Beside me, Enzo lets out a sharp breath through his nose. His grip on the wheel tightens, and then, in a clipped, low snarl, he mutters something in Italian. I don’t understand the words, but I don’t have to. The weight of them is enough.
Matteo just smirks wider.
Dante, silent until now, shifts slightly. He doesn’t turn from the window, doesn’t comment on whatever storm is brewing between us. But something about the way his fingers tap against his armrest makes me think he’s more involved than he
lets on.
I force myself to exhale, my nails digging into my palms,
I need to get out of this car.
I need distance.
But as we pull into the long driveway and the mansion looms ahead, something tells me that distance isn’t an option
anymore
The second we step inside, I know something has changed.
The house is the same, but the air feels different–like the energy from the underground fight den followed us, settling into the walls, seeping into the very foundation
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It’s in the way Enzo stalks into the kitchen without a word, yanking open a cabinet and pouring himerit a drink deliberate movements. It’s in the way Matteo drapes himself against the counter, watching me like Paipurtle he’s fine to solve. It’s in the way Dante stands near the entrance, arms crossed, silent but present.
1 cross my arms. “Are you going to explain what that was?”
Enzo turns around, eyes sharp, gray like a storm.
“That was a warning,” he says flatly.
I scoff. “A warning for who?”
He moves before I realize it.
One second, he’s across the kitchen. The next, he’s standing directly in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. My breath catches in my throat.
“For you,” he murmurs, voice low, controlled.
I swallow. I don’t step back.
Matteo makes a low noise, tilting his glass lazily. “She doesn’t scare easy, Enzo. Maybe that’s the problem.”
Enzo doesn’t take his eyes off me. “It’s not a problem,” he says, but something in the way his jaw clenches tells me it is.
My pulse thrums against my skin.
Dante, still by the entrance, finally speaks. His voice is calm, unreadable.
“Go to bed, Aria.”
It’s not a request.
My fingers twitch at my sides. Something inside me burns with frustration, but I don’t push it. Not now.
Not when Enzo is still staring at me like that.
So I turn and leave.
But as I climb the stairs, the sensation of their gazes trailing after me lingers, heavy and inescapable..
| Can’t Sleep
Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling, my mind replaying every little moment.
The way people moved aside for them in the fight den. The way the atmosphere shifted when they walked in, like they were kings and the rest of us were just pawns. The way that man smirked at me–like I was some kind of prize.
The way Enzo snapped.
I shouldn’t care.
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I shouldn’t still feel the ghost of his fingers pressing into my skin, his grip firm, unfelding
I roll onto my side, pressing my knees together, trying to ignore the way my body reachs best from thinking at t
It’s useless.
Frustrated, I throw the covers off and sit up. My room feels too hot, ton suffocating. Maybe a glass of water will help
1 stand, barely thinking, and grab the first thing I see–a red silk nightgown I must have packed without realising It’s short, barely brushing my thighs, the material whisper light against my skin..
I hesitate.
Then I shake my head.
It’s fine. I’ll just grab a drink and come back. No one will see me.
The Discussion Stops the Second They See Me
I hear voices before I even reach the bottom of the stairs.
Low. Tense.
Curious, I pause in the hallway, my bare feet silent against the cool floor. The kitchen lights are dim, casting deep shadows over the marble counters, but I can see them.
All three of them.
Enzo leans forward, elbows braced against the island, his expression dark. Matteo is nursing a drink, but for once, his usual smirk is missing. Dante stands off to the side, arms crossed, listening with his usual intensity.
They’re discussing something serious
Something they don’t want me to hear.
I should turn around.
I should leave,
But before I can, Enzo lifts his head and his eyes lock onto me.
The conversation dies instantly.
Matteo follows
gaze,
his lips parting slightly, Dante’s arms tighten across his chest.
The air in the room shifts.
My pulse stutters, and it’s only then when all three of them are staring at me like that–that I realize what I’m wearing
The red silk clings to me in all the wrong ways. Or maybe the right ways.
I swallow hard, frozen in place.
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Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this.
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