Accidentally Yours Chapter 42

**Lola**

Then they got bolder—talking about the shipment. Expansion. Using Enzo’s old Bangkok supply line to funnel through the East Strip now that another family had been weakened.

That’s what they were here for.

This wasn’t a partnership. It was a fucking takeover.

She leaned in to Enzo’s side, her hand brushing his thigh like she was whispering something dirty. Her voice dropped in Italian.

“They’re using your old Bangkok line. Expansion plan. And mocking you while they do it.”

Enzo’s smile didn’t move—but the shift was immediate. Cold. Controlled.

He stood smoothly and held out a hand.

“Walk with me, sweetheart,” he said quietly, voice calm in the way a loaded gun might be.

They stepped into a side hallway near the private bar, away from prying ears.

Enzo didn’t waste a second. “What exactly did you hear?”

“They’re planning to force product through your eastern supply line. Said it’s weak after the Bangkok disruption.” Her voice was level. “They’re planning to distribute inside your club. Using your people.”

His jaw locked. “Motherfuckers.”

She watched him. “What were they talking about? What’s the Bangkok line?”

Enzo exhaled slowly, like he was choosing which words wouldn’t start a war. “It’s an import route—controlled access through a Bangkok port. Exclusive deal. Or it was supposed to be. We pulled out when we got intel someone on the inside was flipping crates and setting us up. Shut it down before it collapsed.”

Lola processed fast. “So they think you’re out for good. That they can pick it clean.”

“They’re betting I won’t retaliate.”

A beat.

Then—

“Let me help.”

Enzo looked at her sharply. “Lola—”

“No,” she said firmly. “You made me a seat at the table. You didn’t drag me here—I walked in. And I am not going to sit there and smile while those smug assholes talk about taking you down from the inside.”

Silence.

Then:

“Can you help me flip it?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I speak their language, I understand distribution chains, and I’m good under pressure. So unless you’ve got someone better with these cheekbones and Mandarin, I’m your best shot.”

Enzo was quiet for a long beat. 

Then he smiled. Slow. Sharp.

“Go show them what a fucking mistake it is to underestimate our empire.”

***Stupid heart.***

***Alright bitch, you've got this. Let's show these boys how it's done.***

Lola returned without a word.

The fire in her eyes had been replaced by something colder.

Calculating. Focused. Lethal.

She slid into the booth between Dom and Nico—directly across from the Zhang brothers.

No words. No smirk.

She simply reached across Nico.

He stilled—then let her.

Her fingers slipped beneath his jacket, under his waistband, and pulled a slim, black-handled knife.

She set it in her lap like it belonged there.

Balanced. Waiting.

Nico raised an eyebrow.

Dom leaned back like he was making room for the carnage.

Then, in fluent Mandarin, Lola began.

“Let’s not waste time. What exactly are you moving—and how far in are your people already embedded?”

The Zhang brothers froze.

Then the older one gave a sharp laugh.

“You’re not part of this conversation.”

The younger one leaned in—voice rising, snapping out a string of insults in Mandarin.

Loud. Crude. Ugly.

That’s when Enzo shifted.

Leaning forward slowly. Elbows braced on the table.

He didn’t interrupt.

But the tension in his body said, Try me.

Dom stopped smiling.

Nico moved his drink out of the blast radius.

Lola, unbothered, crossed her legs—

and slid her stiletto forward under the table.

Right into the younger Zhang’s lap.

His breath caught. Barely a twitch, but it was there.

She never broke eye contact.

“If I feel a lie,” she said, still in Mandarin,

“I press harder.

If I hear another insult, I’ll carve a warning into your groin and send you limping home.”

The older brother tried to speak—tried to pivot.

“You can’t possibly think this is a formal offer—”

“Bangkok’s compromised,” Lola cut in.

“You rerouted product, infiltrated club staff, and talked about it at this table like no one would understand you.”

Their bluster cracked.

Then—her terms.

“Sixty percent of profit goes to the Marchesi family.”

“Full logistical control of the Vegas strip stays with Enzo.”

“Two-month probation. No second chances.”

“And you will cover every cent of the Bangkok cleanup. Since your people snuck in so easily, you’ll pay to have them removed.”

The younger Zhang looked to Enzo now—furious.

“She’s bluffing. This is a stunt—meant to humiliate—”

Enzo finally spoke.

His voice was sharp now. Not cold—cutting.

“You assumed no one here spoke Mandarin.”

“You counted on us being deaf to your treason while you insulted the woman sitting across from you.”

“Now you’re sitting in her trap, bleeding ego, and scrambling for a way out.”

He leaned forward just enough to feel like a knife sliding into the gut.

“She gave you terms. Generous ones.”

“You’re going to take them. And then you’re going to leave my city quiet and grateful.”

The Zhang beneath her heel exhaled shakily.

“Deal.”

Lola slowly pulled her foot back.

Flipped the knife once in her palm—smooth and silent—then placed it delicately on the table.

Dom muttered, “I am never pissing her off.”

Nico raised his glass. “To our terrifying negotiator.”

Enzo didn’t say a word to her right away.

But the way he looked at Lola—

like she’d just rewritten his entire world—

said everything.

Then he turned back to the Zhangs.

“Congratulations.

You just bought yourselves time.

Had I discovered your betrayal after signing the deal, I would’ve burned everything you own to ash.

You should thank this woman for the second chance you didn’t deserve.

Ill have the papers over to you in the morning.”

The Zhang brothers were silent.

***Guess this meeting didn’t go as they planned.***

Dom laughed into his beer.

Nico muttered, “God, I love her,” and quickly added, “platonically,” when Enzo’s glare shifted in his direction.

The table broke into motion after that—drinks pushed aside, chairs scraping, voices low with disbelief.

Lola kept her expression neutral as they filed out of the VIP room, flanked by Dom and Nico like it was any other Thursday night.

The Zhang brothers didn’t say a word. Didn’t dare.

Just walked like men who’d forgotten how their legs worked.

The warm Vegas night hit her like a wall—thick, dry, and filled with too much adrenaline.

The moment they reached the curb, Lola felt her brain finally catch up to her body.

***Oh my god. I’m so glad that’s over.***

***I don’t know where I keep getting this crazy confidence from, but all of its success is absolutely ruining my ego.***

***At this rate I’m going to start thinking I can take over the world.***

***Fuck, my ass is sweaty.***

***In fact I just feel sweaty all over.***

***Do I smell?***

***I fucking hope not.***

She edged a little closer to Dom as they walked.

“Hey,” she whispered, low and fast. “Do I smell weird?”

Dom blinked. “Like… sweat weird or ‘I’ve just threatened international criminals’ weird?”

“Sweat, Dom. Just—sniff me real quick, don’t make it weird.”

He leaned in just enough to humor her, gave a quick, subtle sniff, then nodded.

“You smell like orange peel and expensive fabric softener,” he said.

Then added, quieter, “You’re good, trouble. You smell like you had the room in the palm of your hand.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Okay. Good. Cool. Thanks.”

Dom gave a small smirk. “Anytime.”

A sleek black SUV pulled up. The door opened—

Enzo didn’t wait.

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the backseat like he’d been holding back for hours.

His hands moved fast—roaming down her thighs, sliding up her spine, gripping the back of her neck like he needed it to breathe.

He didn’t kiss her.

He just pressed his face into her neck and exhaled like he’d survived something deadly.

“You just played two seasoned brokers like they were interns,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

You have no idea what that deal just bought me.”

Lola tilted her head, lips brushing his jaw as she smirked.

“I might have some idea.”

He kissed her then—deep, claiming, rough with pride. She kissed him back, heels still on, dress hitched up high enough that Dom had to cough and look out the window.