Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 105

Chapter 105

Aria’s NOV

Their eyes haven’t left me.

I can feel them–like invisible hands tracing the curve of my spine, brushing against my neck, sliding down my bare back. The triplets don’t move, don’t blink. They’re still watching me from the VIP section above, and it’s starting to feel less like observation and more like a silent demand.

They looked like sin dressed in tailored luxury–each of them clad in deep, dark suits that screamed old money and quiet danger. Enzo wore black, as always, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of the tattoo snaking up his chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he was seconds away from wrecking something or someone. Dante’s midnight blue suit was pristine, no tie, blazer open, effortless and lethal, like a king surveying his kingdom. And Matteo… Matteo wore gray, soft but sharp, his shirt crisp, collar open, jaw locked. Around them, girls hovered -long legs, painted lips, fake laughter–but the triplets didn’t spare them a single glance. Their attention was solely, mercilessly, on me. And damn it, even now–with the memories, the betrayal, the ache still lodged somewhere deep in my chest–I still felt that pull. That stupid, traitorous heat that crawled up my spine and whispered: you still want them.

Why aren’t they doing anything?

Why do they just stand there, watching like they’re waiting for something? Like I’m the one who’s supposed to make the next move?

The moment stretches long and thin, every breath I take pressing against the weight of their stare. The club pulses around me–flashing lights, bass that thunders through the floor, bodies grinding in rhythm–but it all blurs into nothing compared to the electric tension between us.

Henry’s still talking. I don’t hear a single word he says.

My heart is a mess in my chest, beating too fast and too loud. Every nerve is on fire. Every inch of my skin feels exposed.

Screw this.

Screw them and their brooding silence. Screw the way they look at me like they still own me. Like they can show up out of nowhere and just watch–like they didn’t tear me apart and leave me to bleed in the wreckage.

If they want to play games, I’ll give them a show.

“Wanna dance?” I ask, cutting off whatever Henry was rambling about.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Uh–yeah. Of course.”

I take his hand without waiting for a response, dragging him onto the dance floor. The crowd parts just enough to let us in, bodies moving like waves all around us, the air thick with heat and sweat and music.

A slow, sultry song starts–almost like fate.

Perfect.

I press my back against Henry’s chest, moving my hips to the beat. His hands hover, unsure at first, then settle on my waist. I let my head fall back just slightly, pretending to enjoy the moment. Pretending it’s for him,

But it’s not.

I glance up–eyes flicker back to the VIP section.

They’re still watching.

Enzo’s knuckles are white around his glass, jaw clenched so tight I can see the tension in his throat. He looks like he wants to murder

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Chapter 105

someone. Or maybe just me.

Dante hasn’t moved, but his posture has changed–tense, unreadable. His arms are folded, muscles flexed, his face set like stone. He’s not blinking. Just watching.

And Matteo…

Matteo’s eyes are locked on Henry. Not me. Not anymore. The softness he sometimes had in his stare gone. There’s a cold, hard edge there that makes my stomach twist.

The VIP section looked like another world entirely–elevated, roped off with thick velvet, glowing under softer lights that made everything feel more intimate, more dangerous. Bottles of expensive champagne lined their table, untouched, and the air around them seemed to hum with tension. Even from below, I could feel it–like the space warped around them, bending to their presence. They didn’t need to say a word. They never did. Just existing was enough to command attention. And God, the way they watched me… it was like they were unraveling me with their eyes, stripping away every ounce of confidence I’d managed to fake. Still, I tilted my chin higher, forcing my spine to stay straight. If they were going to stare, I’d give them something to look at.

Good.

Let them burn.

I move slower, dragging my hips against Henry’s front, arching my back. I can already feel how much he’s enjoying this, his breathing uneven, hands gripping me a little tighter now.

But it’s all for them.

I give Henry a look over my shoulder, a flirtatious smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You’re a good dancer,” I lie.

He grins like he’s won something. Poor thing.

Because my mind–my body–my everything is on fire because of the three men upstairs. Not him.

I let my fingers trace up my own thigh slowly, teasing, then reach behind to slide around Henry’s neck, pressing in closer, pretending I don’t feel like I’m standing in the middle of a battlefield.

When I glance back again, Enzo is no longer holding his glass.

It’s shattered on the floor.

Dante hasn’t moved a muscle, but his eyes dare me to keep going.

And Matteo?

He’s taken a step forward.

That’s when it hits me–the stillness isn’t calm. It’s pressure. It’s the build–up.

It’s the pause right before the lightning splits the sky.

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