Accidentally Yours Chapter 105

**Enzo**

The room was still vibrating with laughter when he finally shook his head. Dom’s wheeze rattled like broken glass, Gino was bent double against the wall, and Nico had given up pretending not to laugh, shoulders jerking behind his hand.

It wasn’t how he planned it. He’d wanted quiet—just her and the duck, something soft to keep her company while he handled the bloodier parts of their world. Instead, it turned into a goddamn comedy show.

He muttered a curse in Italian, pinching the bridge of his nose. But when he looked up, the corner of his mouth betrayed him, tugging crooked. Because Lola—eyes red, cheeks blotchy, clutching that ridiculous duck like a crown jewel—was laughing. Really laughing. It carved him open and stitched him back together in one breath.

“Alright,” he said, voice low but even. “Enough. You’ve had your fun.”

Dom tried to smother his grin. Gino snorted. Nico just shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Enzo let them keep it. They’d earned the release same as him.

“But tonight,” he added, his tone softening, “we sit down together. All of us. Family dinner.” His gaze slid back to Lola, warm steel. “She hasn’t eaten a real meal since before the blast. That changes now.”

The jokes quieted, replaced with nods. Agreement. No one pushed back.

Then she tilted her chin, spark burning through the bruise-shadowed face. “Good. Because if there’s pasta, I’m about to put you all to shame.”

Dom muttered, “Not hard,” Gino barked a laugh, and Nico smirked.

Enzo leaned in, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. The weight in his chest loosened as he murmured, just for her: “Then I’ll make sure there’s enough to shame an army, amore \[love\].”

Her smile answered, brighter than the lamp light, brighter than anything.

Dinner felt almost normal. Almost.

The table stretched long, loaded with steak, bread, red wine—Dom’s idea of morale food. But no amount of meat or wine could soften the silence pressing down. Forks scraped, knives dragged, nobody ate like themselves.

Lola sat beside him, upright, stubborn as ever. Bruises painted her skin, bandages peeked from under her shirt, but her chin lifted like she dared the world to notice. Her eyes were clearer now, brighter. Alive. And Enzo hadn’t let go of her hand since they sat down, thumb brushing her knuckles, grounding himself in her pulse.

Halfway through the meal, she set her fork down with quiet finality. Fingers drummed once against the table before she stilled them, gaze sweeping the room—steady but sparking.

“I need to tell you something.”

“I’ve been working at the Russians’ club—”

Chairs scraped, Nico already half up, Enzo’s muscles tensing with him.

“But not really,” she rushed, cutting off the explosion she knew was coming. “I’d walk in with the girls, act like I belonged. Got to know them. Picked up a tray, moved around looking busy. No one touched me.” She leaned forward, daring them. “So sit down so I can finish.”

Nico sank back, jaw tight. Enzo didn’t move, but his grip on her hand locked harder.

“They talk when they think you’re one of them,” she continued. “And I listened. Dmitri’s planning a move on Long Beach. He wants the port, wants fentanyl flowing through faster than trucking it up from the south.”

The room went silent but for knives scraping plates.

Her gaze flicked to Gino, then back to Enzo. “That’s not all. Bellandi’s bar—I played piano there during a few lunch shifts. Easy to sit close, catch stray pieces of conversation. Nothing solid, but I heard enough. They’re planning to steal something from the Russians. Big. A package that’s supposed to change everything. Priority one.”

Gino swore under his breath. Dom shook his head like he wanted to knock sense into her.

Nico’s fist tapped once against the table, controlled, but his voice came tight. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

Lola’s chin lifted. “I wanted to bring back something worth knowing. Something that mattered. I wasn’t going to just sit around while the rest of you carried all of this. I saw an opening, and I took it.”

The silence after that was heavier than the food on the table.

Enzo sat very still, hand locked over hers, thumb pressed against her pulse. Reckless. Infuriating. Exactly her. And she’d done it for them—for him—even if it made his blood boil.

Nico’s eyes cut to him, sharp. But Enzo didn’t look away. He couldn’t—not from the wild woman who had just confessed to walking straight into enemy fire because she thought it might help.

Lola’s voice finally dropped, softer but sharper somehow. She reached under the table, pulled something from her bag, and set it down on the wood with a quiet clink.

A fox. Small, cut from crystal, its tails fanning behind it in perfect, gleaming arcs.

“We found this at the hospital before we left,” she said. Her fingers lingered on the glass, tracing the curve of its back. “No one knows how it got there.”

The table went still.

Enzo’s lungs locked tight. He didn’t need her to say it. He felt it in his bones, in the way her hand stayed pressed against that thing like it burned. It could have happened again. Someone had been in her room, inches from her, close enough to take her without a sound. Close enough to finish what the blast hadn’t.

Heat flared in his chest, molten and brutal. He wanted blood. He wanted to tear the walls apart brick by brick until he found who had left their mark so smugly in his woman’s space.

But Lola’s eyes found his, steady despite the tremor in her fingers. And what he saw there split him open. Not fear. Not even anger. Just the quiet knowledge of how close she’d come to being gone.

His jaw clenched, his hand closing over hers on the table, pinning her palm against the crystal fox. “Not again,” he said, voice low and lethal. “Not ever again.”

No one argued. Not Dom, not Gino, not Nico. Because they all felt it too.

The crystal fox caught the light and threw it back in fractured pieces. No one touched it.

Dom was the first to break. He let out a harsh laugh that held no humor. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Sneaking into Russian turf like it’s ladies’ night?” His chair scraped as he leaned forward, eyes blazing at Lola. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could help,” Lola shot back, chin lifting. “And I did.”

Nico’s palm cracked against the table, silverware jumping. His voice came out rough, shredded with panic disguised as rage.

“Help? That’s what you call this? Wigs and paint, slipping into Dmitri’s club while every junkie and shark in that place would’ve sold you out for a line—and none of us knew? Not me. Not anyone.” His chest heaved, finger stabbing at the fox like he wanted to shatter it. “Then this shows up in your hospital room. They were close enough to touch you. To take you. And we wouldn’t have known until it was too late.”

He leaned forward, shoulders tight, eyes blazing on her like he could pin her to the chair with nothing but will. “You don’t get it, Lo. You don’t just risk yourself when you pull shit like this. You risk all of us. You risk me. So don’t you dare call this helping when all I see is you betting your life like it costs nothing.”

The words cracked the air, jagged and raw.

Enzo felt the truth of them hit, a blade twisted in his own chest. Not just fury. Fear. Nico’s fear. The kind that clawed and tore because he loved her too, because losing her would rip him apart just as surely as it would Enzo.

Jealousy burned low in his gut—not rage, not even anger, just a brutal awareness. Nico loved her. She loved Nico. And Lola was his. All of that could coexist, but Christ, it was a lot to hold without breaking.

Enzo’s grip on her hand tightened, grounding himself in her pulse even as the weight of it pressed down.

Silence thickened, heavy with fury and fear.

Gino dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharp through his nose. “Jesus Christ, Lo. I thought Dom was the reckless one.” His gaze cut to Enzo. “She’s got bigger balls than any of us, but if someone was close enough to drop that shiny little omen on her nightstand without a single guard catching it? That ain’t bravery. That’s suicide.”

Enzo hadn’t moved. His hand still pinned hers over the fox, the heat of her pulse beating frantic against his skin. Inside, he was fire and ash, torn between pride at her nerve and volcanic rage at her risk. Of course she’d done it. Of course she’d seen the gap and thrown herself straight into it. It was Lola.

And he loved her for it. And it would kill him one day.

His voice cut through, steady but edged like a blade. “Enough.”

The word cracked the air. Dom sat back. Nico’s jaw clenched, muscle ticking. Gino went quiet.

Enzo’s eyes locked on Lola’s, black and unyielding. “You wanted to bring something back worth telling? You did. Now you don’t move an inch without one of us. No more secrets. No more sneaking.” His thumb pressed harder against her wrist. “If you want in, you’re in. But you don’t go alone.”

The table stayed silent, the weight of the vow unspoken but felt.