I grin, lazy and unashamed. “You look better on top of me.”
Danger flickers in his eyes, and for once the storm inside him feels still.
I trace the ink across his chest, wings stretched over his collarbones.
“I love this one,” I whisper, thumb brushing a feather.
His hand slides higher, and heat crawls through me. The same burn as last night when he touched me like I was worth bleeding for.
The door bursts open.
“Rise and sin, lovers!” Milo’s voice hits like a cymbal, loud, smug, too awake for this hour.
I tug the hem lower. Matteo stretches an arm behind his head, unbothered.
Marco fills the doorway behind Milo, and the air changes.
His smirk dies when he takes in the scene. My pulse spikes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Marco’s tone cuts clean through the room.
I stop halfway off the bed. Matteo stays still, then sits up slowly, eyes locked on his brother, jaw hard enough to crack.
“You knew what this was when I called last night,” Matteo snaps.
Marco steps closer, scoffing, “Told you it’d get messy.”
Matteo doesn’t blink. My pulse hammers. I shouldn’t be here, not in their world, not like this.
Marco’s gaze hooks mine. Not anger, more assessing me.
“You know what this means,” he says to Matteo, not me. “The second she’s more than a fuck, she’s a war.”
They lock eyes, the air between them burning. My breath snags.
Milo exhales like he’s seen this a hundred times. “Easy, lovebirds. No blood before breakfast.”
Marco exhales, tension leaking out slowly. “You’re an idiot, Matteo. But you’re my brother.” He shakes his head, you can see he's pissed off about this.
He glances my way, expression unreadable, then smirks. “Hope you’re hydrating, Aoife.”
I roll my eyes, heat crawling up my neck. Matteo leans back into the pillows, unbothered, king of the wreckage.
I slide off him, pulling the blanket over me. Marco’s eyes dip lower than I like, and Matteo’s arm snakes out, pulling me right back to his side.
“You were staring,” Matteo growls.
Marco shrugs. “Want to know what the war’s over.”
Rosa walks in next, gaze locking on mine. One brow lifts. I open my mouth, but she slices through the silence before I can speak.
“Still deciding if I should shake hands with the enemy,” she says, lips curved in a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Milo snorts. “Nah, we just fuck them.”
They laugh. I catch myself smiling. I shouldn’t. If my family knew, they’d carve the date themselves. Sleeping with him only moves it closer.
Rosa’s gaze drops to the ring on my finger as a sharp smile settles across her face. “That’s an ugly ring.”
