Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Arias’s POV

The restaurant was too fancy. Like, ridiculously fancy. The kind of place where people whispered instead of talked, where forks and knives made soft clinking sounds against plates, and the air smelled like expensive food I couldn’t name. The walls were dark wood, polished until they gleamed, and soft golden lights made everything feel warm and kind of unreal.

1 wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Yet, here I was, walking through some private entrance like I belonged, guided by three guys who made it very clear I didn’t get a choice in the matter.

The triplets led me to a secluded part of the restaurant, away from the main dining area. Matteo smirked as he pulled out a chair for me, his fingers brushing my back as I sat down. A chill ran through me, and I quickly adjusted my posture, pretending I hadn’t noticed. But Enzo noticed. He always noticed. His dark eyes studied me from across the table, quiet and unreadable. Leo, as usual, seemed the least invested, just settling into his chair with the kind of lazy grace that made it obvious he was used to places like this.

I folded my hands in my lap, feeling awkward and very, very out of place.

Matteo leaned back in his seat, watching me with a lazy grin. “You look like you’re about to bolt, little star. Relax. We don’t bite.” His voice was smooth, teasing.

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet

his

gaze. “I’m not scared of you.”

Enzo smirked, resting his elbow on the table. “That’s a lie.” His gaze flickered down, and I realized he was watching the way my fingers were twisting the fabric of my dress. I quickly flattened my hands against my lap, heat creeping up my

neck.

Dante, still silent, picked up his wine glass and took a slow sip, his sharp blue eyes watching me over the rim. There was

something almost amused in his gaze, like he could see straight through me but wasn’t going to comment on it.

The food arrived not long after. Plates of things I didn’t recognize, but they smelled so good that I forgot about everything

else for a second. I hesitated, my fork hovering over my plate. Then, cautiously, I took a bite.

And oh my God.

Flavors exploded on my tongue–rich, buttery, perfectly seasoned. I closed my eyes for a second, savoring it, letting the taste melt into my senses. It was embarrassing how good it was.

When I opened my eyes, the atmosphere had shifted.

Matteo’s grip on his fork had tightened slightly, his smirk frozen at the edges. Enzo’s expression hadn’t changed, but his gaze had darkened, heavy and unreadable.

But it was Dante’s reaction that startled me the most. He had stopped mid–sip, his glass hovering near his lips. His blu eyes locked onto mine, something flickering in them–something I didn’t understand. It was just a second, a moment too brief to grasp, before he casually set his glass down and looked away like nothing had happened.

Matteo let out a low chuckle and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Didn’t know watching someone eat could be this entertaining.”

1/3

Chapter 14

I almost choked on my food,

Maybe because I actually enjoy my food instead of inhaling it like a vacuum? I shot back, Irying to ignore the warmth creeping up my face.

Matteo grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Or maybe it’s because you make it look like a religious experience

I scowled at him, but before I could fire back, soft music filled the room. A live band had started playing–a slow, rhythmic melody that settled into the air like a warm breeze. The sound wove its way through the space, curling around us like something tangible, something intimate.

Matteo stood suddenly, offering me his hand.

“No,” I said immediately.

Enzo, who had been silent, pushed back his chair slowly and stood as well. His dark gaze settled on me, challenging.

My heart thumped.

I swallowed, feeling trapped. Matteo’s smirk widened. “Come on, little star. Just one dance.”

I knew it wasn’t really a request. With a reluctant sigh, I placed my hand in Matteo’s. His fingers curled around mine, warm and firm, and he pulled me up smoothly, guiding me onto the small open space near the table.

The dance was slow. Too slow. His hand settled on my waist, fingers pressing just enough to make me hyper–aware of every movement. The scent of his cologne–something dark and woodsy–wrapped around me, making my head feel a little lighter than it should.

“Relax,” he murmured, amusement lacing his voice.

I tried. I really did. But then we turned, and I caught Enzo watching. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed, his gaze following our every move. And then, as Matteo spun me slightly, Enzo’s hand brushed against my back. Just for a second. Just enough for my breath to hitch.

Dante, still seated, observed the entire exchange with an expression that was too neutral. Too unreadable. He swirled the drink in his glass, taking everything in but offering no reaction. But there was something in the way his fingers tapped lightly against the stem of his glass, in the way his gaze lingered on the place where Enzo had touched me, that made my

stomach twist.

The music ended. Matteo stepped back, looking far too pleased with himself.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to sit back down, my pulse still unsteady. But before I could, Matteo reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my cheek, just briefly.

I went still.

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