Chapter 7
~ELENA~
"You like what you see?" Nico whispers in my ears.
I step back immediately.
"I wasn't..."
"You were," he tosses me a water bottle. "It's okay. I'd stare at me too."
I catch it with a glare, but my heart is racing.
Working out beside them is a form of psychological torture.
I walk to the treadmill and try to focus on the treadmill, but Nico decides to get on the one next to mine, walking in sync beside me, shirt still nowhere in sight.
He leans over, whispering, "I could train you personally, you know. One-on-one sessions. Very hands-on."
"You're distracting," I mumble.
He chuckles. "That's kind of the point."
I steal a glance at Vincenzo again. Still ignoring me. He hasn't given me attention since yesterday I got here and I hate it. I love attention.
He is still pounding that bag like it owes him something. And Riccardo is on the bench press now, his muscles rippling as he exhales with each lift.
God, how are they all this attractive??
And why did I agree to come here??
My eyes land on Nico again.
He's stretching now, and my gaze, against my better judgement, drops to the curves of his lower back, the way his sweat drips down his spine, and the way his muscles ripple when he straightens up and rolls his shoulders.
I squeeze my thighs together, heat pooling low in my stomach.
This is insane.
I shouldn't be thinking about these things. Not about my stepbrothers.
But their bodies are a damn masterpiece, and every flex, every movement, is pure seduction.
And the worst part??
They know it.
Most especially Nico.
As if to confirm that thought, he catches me staring again and grins like the devil.
"Need help stretching, Elena??" He drawls.
I scowl. "I'm good."
"Oh, I disagree," he leans closer. "You're all tense. I could help work that out of you. With my hands. Or my mouth."
My jaw drops.
"Nico!" I exclaim in disbelief.
He's openly flirting with me in the presence of his brothers.
Riccardo clears his throat nearby, pretending not to hear, but his smirk betrays him.
Even Vincenzo glances at us this time. Just for a second. But it's a sharp unreadable look. Then he turns back to the sandbag like I don't exist.
Why does that stupid indifference sting more than Nico's shameless flirting??
"Ignore him," Riccardo says, walking past with a towel slung around his neck. "Nico flirts with everything that breathes."
"But I don't flirt with everything like I flirt with you, Elena," Nico counters, eyes locked on me.
It's then I realize the full, dangerous weight of the situation.
Three beautiful, intimidating brothers.
One complicated past.
And one forbidden attraction I can't shake.
Because even now, as I watch Nico bench press with ease, muscles bulging, veins running like a map across his forearms...
I know I'm in trouble.
And maybe, just maybe...
I want the trouble.
I feel my heart pound and my core throb as I imagine the way his hands would feel, holding me, teasing me, wrecking me.
What the hell is wrong with me??
I am yet to identify which of the triplet I made out with at the club and now I'm wishing to be touched by another.
I force myself to look away and close my eyes.
But even with my eyes closed, I can still see them.
Nico.
Riccardo.
Vincenzo.
Each of them has a different kind of temptation.
And I'm already spiraling.
God help me.
I watch Vincenzo leave the room without talking to any of us.
Seems he's not only cold towards me. He's also cold towards his brothers.
***
After what feels like the longest hour of my life, I finally get off the treadmill. My legs are jelly, my throat is parched, and my mind is a fog of inappropriate thoughts and forbidden fantasies.
"Breakfast??" Riccardo asks casually, tossing his towel over his shoulder like he didn't just make my insides churn from the bench press alone.
"Yes. Please," I mutter, eager for anything that will get me away from the gym...and from Nico's insufferably smug face.
We head toward the kitchen in silence. I try to put some distance between myself and Nico, but somehow he ends up walking beside me. Like a shadow that smells ridiculously good.
I sit at the marble island while Riccardo grabs eggs and bread from the bridge.
"You cook??" I ask, surprised.
He shrugs. "Not really. I just cook simple things."
"You should try his omelet" Nico says as he opens the fridge and grabs a juice. "It might make you fall in love with him."
I shoot him a glare. "I'm not that easy."
"Oh, I know," he says with a wink. "But everyone has a weakness."
Vincenzo finally enters, freshly showered and now fully dressed in black jeans and a dark grey T-shirt.
His damp hair is slicked back, and of course, he looks like he just walked out of a Mafia movie. Dark. Dangerous. Unbothered.
He doesn't say a word to me as he passes, grabbing a cup of black coffee and taking a seat at the far end of the table.
I stare at him for a moment, hoping he'll at least acknowledge me.
Nothing.
I look away, biting my lip.
Riccardo slides a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me.
"Eat," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You'll need the energy. It's your full day here."
"Thanks," I whisper, avoiding eye contact with all of them.
Especially Nico, who is still watching me like I'm dessert.
Breakfast passes in a tension filled silence. Every time I look up, one of them is watching me. It's unnerving. It's thrilling. It's sickening.
And I kind of like it.
God. I need therapy.
After we eat, I stand up to take my plate to the sink and rinse it, but Riccardo stops me.
Don't worry, I'll do that," he says.
"No, it's fine," I say.
"No it isn't. You're a princess, my princess to be precise, and need to be treated as one" he says.
I blink twice.
Coming from Riccardo??
Woww.
What is up with these brothers??
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