Page 49 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

I plate up the food and slide it across tothem, pleased at their satisfied groans of appreciation as they dig in. Mymother always said that learning to cook wasn’t just a skill but an act oflove. Food brings people together and creates warmth where there is cold.

She was right.

I stand at the counter to eat, but Alexisnotices and quickly vacates his stool, dragging it around for me. “The chefshould never stand.”

I thank him, and my smile widens as I catchthe glare his brothers shoot him as if annoyed that he’s making them look bad.Despite the strange circumstances, this moment feels almost domestic. I shakemy head at the thought. I’m the captive of three mafia brothers, being kept ina secret location. It’s definitely not the setting for domestic bliss. And yet,when they think I’m not looking, they let their eyes linger on my face andbody.

“So, we found Luca asleep on your mattressthis morning,” Alexis drawls, his smirk pure mischief. “Did he crawl over thereby accident or…”

I arch a brow, matching his playful tone. “Washe tempted by my siren's call?”

Antonio snorts, shaking his head. “Lucadoesn’t get tempted by women. He decides he wants them, then takes them.”

“She had a nightmare,” Luca mutters, notlooking up from his plate. I stare, fascinated. Luca Venturi—the ruthless,stone-faced boss—blushing because he spent the night in my bed, comforting melike some kind of reluctant protector.

“Another one?” Antonio lowers his fork,concern flickering across his usually impassive face.

Before I can answer, I decide to see how far Ican push Luca. “He sang to me,” I say, sweet as honey.

The fork in his hand stops scraping his plate.A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Sang?” Alexis barks a laugh and smacks hisbrother on the shoulder. “This man? Luca Venturi? He sang?”

“Well,” I amend, biting back my grin, “morelike he whispered me a lullaby.”

Antonio’s expression shifts, something darkflickering in his gaze. Jealousy? I wouldn’t have thought of him as the jealoustype, especially not about me, but the way his jaw tenses tells me otherwise.

Luca exhales, setting his silverware down withprecision. “I have a nice voice.”

I blink, surprised. “You do?”

He nods, like this is a simple fact and hedidn’t just shock the entire room. “Yeah. Sometimes, in the shower, I forgetmyself.”

“You shouldn't need to forget yourself tosing,” I say.

“Do you sing, Aemelia?”

“Karaoke, back in Maryland.”

Alexis hums “What do you sing?”

“Whatever feels right in the moment.”

“I think Aemelia should sing for us today,”Alexis suggests, his smirk widening.

I scoff. “You want breakfast and aperformance. Your expectations are a little high.”

“Our expectations stretch much further thanthat,” Alexis says with a layer of innuendo, then just as smoothly, he adds,“For lunch, dinner, and a mid-afternoon snack.”

“What are you? A toddler?” I laugh.

“Ignore my brother,” Antonio mutters, stabbinga piece of sausage with his fork. “He can make himself useful today.”

“You want to eat my cooking?” Alexis gesturesto his plate. “Because I guarantee it won't be anything as good at this.”

“Burned toast isn’t on my menu today.” Lucastirs his coffee, then lifts his mug to his lips. Our eyes meet across thetable, and for a moment, everything else fades. The almost-kiss flickersbetween us, charged like a storm ready to break. It was reckless and stupid,but in the moment, it was real and beautiful. And I can't regret it.

Alexis pushes his empty plate forward with asatisfied sigh. “You know, Aemelia, for someone we bought and kind ofkidnapped, you sure are spoiling us.”

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