Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 27

Chapter 26

Aria’s POV

Silence stretches thick across the dining room, pressing against my skin like a second layer of suffocating heat. My breathing is shallow, my fingers curled tightly into my lap beneath the table. I don’t know what’s worse the weight of their gazes or the fact that a part of me likes the attention.

No one has ever looked at me the way they do. Like I’m something worth studying. Worth understanding.

I should leave. I should storm off and slam my bedroom door behind me. But I don’t.

I look like a contrast compared to them, sweatshirt and shorts surrounded by men who only ever wear black suits.

Dante’s voice breaks the stillness, quiet yet firm. “Sit down.”

His words sink into my skin, lodging there, curling around my spine in a way that makes me stiffen. It’s not an order laced with anger or impatience. It’s something else–something deeper, something I don’t want to acknowledge.

Matteo smirks, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His voice is a lazy drawl, but there’s an undeniable challenge in it.

“Good girl.”

Heat slams into my chest, swift and unwanted.A rush of heat climbs up my neck, anger and something far more dangerous

twisting inside me.

I shove back my chair with a sharp scrape, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Don’t call me that.”

Matteo doesn’t blink. If anything, his smirk deepens, like he’s just found his new favorite game. “Would you rather I call you something else, tesoro,Cara? Principessa?”

My jaw clenches. “I’d rather you not call me anything at all.”

Enzo chuckles, slow and deliberate. “That’s going to be difficult, considering you’re sitting at our table.”

My stomach tightens. I know he’s right. Despite my earlier defiance, I am still here, listening, engaging–playing right into

their hands.

I try to steady my breathing, reaching for my glass of water just to have something to do. My fingers tremble slightly as I grip it, and I hate that they might notice.

Enzo leans back in his chair, studying me the way a strategist studies the battlefield before making his move. “We weren’t finished talking.”

My throat tightens. “I was.”

Dante watches me with unreadable eyes, fingers tapping idly against the polished wood of the table. “You were about to tell us something.”

I cross my arms, feigning indifference. “I wasn’t going to tell you anything.”

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Chapter 26

“Really?” Enzo lifts a brow. “Because it looked like you were about to break.”

I inhale sharply, refusing to let them see how close they are to the truth. “You don’t know me.”

Matteo hums, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. “No, but we see you.”

Something inside me clenches.

Dante’s voice lowers. “You don’t like people asking about you.”

I swallow against the lump forming in my throat. “Maybe because it’s none of your business.”

Matteo tilts his head. “Or maybe because you don’t want to hear the truth out loud.”

A sharp sting spreads through my chest. Their words hit far too close to home, peeling away layers I never wanted anyone

to see.

Enzo watches me carefully, his voice deceptively soft. “You hold yourself like you don’t care, but you do.”

Matteo leans forward slightly. “You let the world push you around because it’s easier than fighting back.”

I snap, slamming my hands against the table. “You don’t know anything about me.”

The air shifts. Dante’s gaze is steady, unwavering. “Then tell us. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I open my mouth to throw a sharp retort back at him, but nothing comes.

I don’t have an answer.

I don’t know what would happen–because I’ve never let anyone get close enough to try.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.

I scoff, trying to sound unaffected. “Why do you care?”

Enzo’s gaze darkens, like he’s offended bit also hurt by that statement. “Because we make it our business to know everything about what’s ours.”

I freeze. My pulse thrums violently in my ears.

Matteo smirks again, but this time, there’s something sharper beneath it. “Relax, Piccola. We haven’t decided if you’re ours

yet.”

My stomach flips, something dangerously close to fear creeping up my spine. Not fear of them, but fear of what they make me feel.

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