Page 18 of Daddies of the Underworld

Because I was a glutton for punishment even if I knew better than to let myself get shaken up over a woman.

And yet, even though Matteo strolled across the private courtyard below my balcony with his hands in his pockets once Nina was tucked safely in her room by herself, jealousy slid between my ribs with a sharp slice.

Matteo did not look up.

He had no reason to.

Even if he knew I stood there with a glass of whiskey and an ugly feeling burning a hole in my chest, he knew I’d never step in his way.

He walked through a patch of moonlight, Villa Belladonna wrapped around him in a sweet embrace of lemon trees and warm stone.

I had always loved this place, loved the way wealth could make even danger look elegant because we had enough money to drape it in jasmine and wisteria.

Tonight, I resented every beautiful inch.

Matteo disappeared beneath the archway leading to his rooms while I took a long drink.

I laughed under my breath and smacked the glass down on the brick balcony. “Pathetic.”

“Yes.” Dante spoke from behind me, his voice bordering on amused.

I shot him a look and flipped him off. “You could at least pretend not to lurk.”

“I could.” He poured himself a drink but did not join me in the open. “We all want her.”

For a moment, the whole coast seemed to go quiet. Even the waves below sounded further away, like the ocean had pulled back to listen.

Dante had said it for all of us.

How did three powerful, terrible men get pulled in by one woman with tired eyes and more bravery than I cared to admit?

Perhaps that was it. Her bravery, the way she did not back down from us, turned us into idiots that circled the same flame.

Dante tapped his finger against the wall. Once. Twice. “If this becomes a contest, I’m leaving.”

That surprised me enough to turn toward him fully. “You would leave?”

“The room.” He grinned. “Before I put your head through a wall.”

I laughed loud and long. “Of course. Why would I expect anything less from a sentimental fool like you.”

“She is not a game.” Dante downed his whiskey and turned the glass upside down on the table.

“No.” I picked up my whiskey, decided I didn’t want it, and set it down again. “No, she is not.”

The door opened behind us, and Matteo stepped through. “What are we discussing?”

“You.” I raised the glass in a mockery of a salute. “Your worst qualities. We need more time. We’d only made it halfway.”

“Ah.” His hands remained in his pockets, which most men would take as Matteo being cavalier. They did not know him as we did. “We need to discuss Nina.” He held my gaze several seconds before turning to Dante. “She admitted to kissing you both after I kissed her. She feels guilty for that.”

I would ask how he knew, but Nina’s face was far too easy to read, and his words killed every clever response I might have come up with.

“I believe she is attracted to all three of us and feels overwhelmed.” His voice carried no judgment. In fact, he talked in the same way as when they discussed business meetings, whether they be for monetary purposes or to discuss assassinations. “She has been dragged into an attack, moved under our protection, and kissed by us. I would be more concerned if she accepted all of that calmly. Her reactions are normal and expected.”

I hated when he made sense. It removed several excellent arguments from my possession.

Dante grunted. “What now?”