Bound To My Mafia Stepuncles novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Aria’s POV

My apartment felt like a pressure cooker after the controlled chaos of the clinic. A week. A whole week of replaying that car ride, the way Dante’s touch, even through my stupid dress, had felt like a brand. I shuddered, trying to shake it off, but the memory clung like static.

I was staring at the clock, each tick a tiny hammer blow against my skull. I needed to get my head straight, but my thoughts were a tangled mess of shame and…something else. Something I didn’t want to admit.

Ding–dong!

Cassandra. Of course. The glitter bomb was here. I opened the door, and she burst in, her eyes sparkling like she’d just won the lottery. “Aria! I’m so excited!” she chirped, her voice bouncing off the walls.

“Hey, I mumbled, stepping aside, already bracing myself for the tornado.

She didn’t waste a second. She beelined for my closet, throwing the doors open with a dramatic flourish. Oh my god, you have so many clothes!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the apartment. “This is like a treasure trove!”

I rolled my eyes, but a flicker of something like amusement tugged at my lips. Cassandra was always so…Cassandra.

She started pulling out everything, a chaotic flurry of fabric and sequins. Dresses, jeans, tops – it was like a clothing earthquake had hit my closet. “What about this?” she asked, holding up a slinky black dress. “Too sexy?*

“For horseback riding? Yeah, definitely too sexy,” I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice.

She pouted, tossing the dress onto the growing mountain on my bed. “Fine, fine. What about this?” she asked, holding up a pair of my well–worn riding pants.

“Those are perfect,” I said, finally seeing something that wouldn’t make me cringe.

She tried them on, twirling in front of the mirror. “They fit great!” she declared, her smile wide. “But what about a top?

And boots?”

The next half hour was a blur of fabric, zippers, and Cassandra’s endless commentary. She was like a magpie, drawn to anything that glittered or sparkled. I tried to focus, to be a good sister, but my mind kept drifting back to the Morettis. To the car. To the way Dante’s touch, even though it was so brief, had felt like it had rewritten my entire body.

I remembered his fingers, lingering just above the edge of my dress. I remembered Enzo’s whispers, hot and suggestive, making my skin prickle. And Matteo’s eyes, watching everything, a silent, predatory gleam.

A wave of shame washed over me, a hót flush that made my cheeks burn. How could I have wanted that? How could I still want it? They were practically family. It/was wrong. So wrong.

But the memory, the feeling, was like a drug, a forbidden pleasure that I couldn’t shake.

“Aria? Are you even listening?” Cassandra asked, her voice sharp.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “Just…thinking.”

1/3

Chapter 18

“Thinking about what?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Nothing, I said quickly, turning away. “Just…work stuff.

She shrugged, dismissing me. “Well, I think I’ve got everything I need, she said, finally satisfied with her chosen outfit. “Thanks, Aria! You’re the best!”

She gave me a quick, distracted hug and rushed out the door, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

I closed the door, leaning against it, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. The apartment felt too quiet, ton empty.

I looked at my phone. Still no texts. But the roses, now a huge, overflowing bouquet, were a constant reminder. Twenty eight roses now. They were taunting me, daring me.

I went to my room, collapsing onto my bed. I stared at the ceiling, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Shame, desire, confusion, fear.

I couldn’t believe I was even considering going to the ranch. I couldn’t believe I was still so fixated on them. I was losing my mind.

I got up, pacing the room, trying to burn off the restless energy. I needed to do something. I needed to distract myself.

I went to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry. I sat down at the table, staring out the window. The sky was a dull gray, and the streetlights were just starting to flicker on.

I thought about the ranch. About the horses. About them. My stomach twisted into knots.

I glanced at my phone again. Still nothing. But the silence was worse than any text: It was like they were waiting, watching, knowing I was breaking.

I was trying to convince myself to stay home, to ignore them, to forget about everything. But the pull, the dark, forbidden pull, was too strong.

I was trapped. Trapped in my own head, trapped by my own desires.

I went to the living room, staring at the front door, I needed to leave. I needed to get away. But I couldn’t move.

I was frozen, paralyzed by indecision.

I looked at the clock. It was late. Too late for visitors.

I needed to go to bed. I needed to try to sleep.

I turned off the lights, heading towards my room. But I stopped at the hallway.

I couldn’t go in there. Not yet.

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