Page 63 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Aemelia pauses mid-scrub, her fingerstightening around the dish in her hands. Water drips from her fingertips,sliding down the plate and into the soapy sink. Slowly, she turns, dark eyessearching mine.

“We’re going back?”

“To the penthouse,” I confirm. “It’s time.”

She blinks, processes, then presses her lipstogether. Instead of answering, she resumes washing, her movements slower, moredeliberate. I can feel the weight of her unspoken questions hanging between us,thick as smoke.

“You don’t need to worry about anything,” Isay, my voice low and steady. “That man, the stalker, is in your past. And yourfather? He’s still a ghost.”

She nods, but she doesn’t look at me. Hershoulders remain stiff, her posture guarded.

Antonio moves in behind her, close but notsuffocating, his warmth an unspoken reassurance. He rests a broad palm againstthe small of her back, his touch light yet firm—an anchor.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.

For a second, she closes her eyes, justbreathing. Then, with a slow exhale, she places the final dish on the dryingrack and dries her hands on a dishtowel, her movements careful and controlled.

And finally, she turns to us, somethingsofter, almost vulnerable, in the depths of her gaze.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Antonio squeezes her waist, a silent promise,while I hold her gaze, giving her the same vow without words.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to the world we leftbehind.

Tomorrow, we’ll take her home.

***

When we finally make our way upstairs, the airbetween us is different. The tension is still there, but it’s shifted, heavierwith something unspoken.

The bedroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of abedside lamp casting long shadows against the wall. Aemelia hesitates at thedoorway, glancing between the three of us. “What happens when we go back?”

Antonio steps forward first, brushing hisscarred knuckles over her cheek. “You’ll see what life could be like. What itmeans to belong to us.”

She looks around, exhaling slowly, herexpression thoughtful. “And if I don’t want to stay?”

Alexis leans against the wall, his grinwolfish. “Then you walk. But not yet. Not until we’ve cleared your path.”

“But if you like it, maybe you’ll never wantto leave.” Antonio takes her hand gently in his, an indication of how thingscould be and a clear communication that he wants her to stay.

Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak; instead,she steps into the room that still carries the lingering scent of sex to sleepbetween us.

“Okay,” she whispers. It’s a single word, butit carries weight, threading through the air like a promise. She’s choosing tostay. For now.

“Aemelia,” I say as we follow her. “You forgotsomething.”

Her eyes, bright and a little fearful thatshe’s disappointed me in some way, flick between us, searching for answers.

“You forgot to kiss us all goodnight.”

She blushes, and her first instinct is to findAntonio in the room, the man she knows most intimately. He takes her face inhis hands and bends to kiss her lips like he’s sipping from a chalice of thefinest wine. Her soft moan takes my breath away, anticipation drumming throughme like the thunder of wild horses in my chest.

Alexis is closer than I am, and she hesitatesin front of him. He slides his hand around her neck, tangling his fingers inthe hair at her nape. He ducks his head so his mouth is close to her ear. “Beg,”he murmurs, only just loud enough for me and Antonio to overhear.

Antonio expresses displeasure with a tut, buthe knows what our brother likes, and Aemelia will have to understand if this isgoing to work.

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