Accidentally Yours Chapter 78

**Lola**

Nico’s words slipped out low, like he wished he could swallow them back down: “I’d start it.”

Lola froze, sundress swishing around her thighs as she spun, eyes wide, hands clutching her chest.

“I knew it!” she gasped, dramatic as a soap opera. “I knew you loved me!”

Before he could blink, she grabbed his face and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

Nico stiffened like he’d been shot, but his ears went crimson.

“And you know what?” Lola jabbed a finger at him, grinning like a devil. “I knew you’d be the hardest to crack. Gino comes cracked. Dom cracked after the first store and that scrappy little number—poor guy’s still in recovery. But you?” She poked Nico in the chest again. “You really made me work for it. Took me all day. But I win. Scoreboard: Lola, one. Boys, zero.”She twirled toward the exit, shopping bags bouncing. “Thank you for playing, gentlemen. Better luck next time!”

On the walk to the car.

Dom was dragging her. Not physically—verbally. Loud, animated, hands flying like he was testifying in church.

“All day, Lo. This whole damn shopping trip—this wasn’t about clothes, or shoes, or whatever you shoved in those bags. This was about you running a psychological warfare campaign on me and Nico.”

Lola blinked up at him innocently. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Dom nearly tripped over the curb. “Bad thing? BAD THING? You almost gave me a stroke in Victoria’s Secret! My blood pressure is still climbing. And you—” he jabbed a finger at her “—you’re super hot, fine, whatever, but I swear to God I thought Enzo was setting me up. Like, I’m about to be loyalty-tested into an early grave.”

Lola slung an arm around his shoulders as they hit the parking lot. “Aw, Dommy. You survived. Kinda.”

“Kinda?!” He ripped away, muttering under his breath. “Enzo’s gonna kill me. We’re dead men walking. This is it. This is the end.”

Behind him, Nico was still rubbing the cheek Lola had kissed, trying and failing to hide the smirk tugging his mouth.

Lola caught it, grinned, and sing-songed: “Boys zero, Lola two.”

“Unbelievable,” Dom groaned. “I’m being psychologically waterboarded by a woman in a sundress.”

“And you love it,” Lola chirped, tossing her bag into the trunk.

Dom slapped a hand over his heart. “Oh my God. I do. Somebody pray for me.”

Dom was still mid-rant by the time they reached the car, pointing at her with the righteous fury of a betrayed saint.

“All day, Lo. You made me carry your bags like some mall husband. You had Nico tying shoes, sniffing perfume, zipping dresses—and for what? FOR WHAT?”

“For fun,” Lola said sweetly, dropping into the backseat with a sigh. “Obviously.”

Nico slid behind the wheel, phone buzzing as he shut the door. He glanced at the screen, then at her in the rearview mirror.

“It’s Enzo,” he said, voice low. “He’s not gonna be back until after nine. Meeting ran long.”

Lola perked up instantly, eyes sparkling. “Ohhhh, really? So you’re saying…”

Nico’s brow arched. “Saying what?”

She leaned forward between the seats, grin feral. “Taco Bell. And movie night.”

Dom groaned from the passenger seat, tossing his head back like a man begging the heavens for mercy. “No. No, no, no. I’m not doing this. Not after today.”

Lola poked him in the arm. “Come on, Dommy. Crunchwraps. Nacho fries. Drive-thru margaritas. You love it.”

“I won't love it,” he muttered. “I’m traumatized.”

“Trauma tastes better with Baja Blast and tequila,” she said, dead serious.

Nico smirked despite himself, shaking his head as he started the engine. “She’s not wrong.”

Exactly. Thank you, Nico. Finally, a man of taste.

Lola settled back into her seat, smug. “Alright, boys. Tacos, tequila slushies, and one very questionable movie. My pick.”

Dom rubbed his face with both hands. “I swear, if it’s Magic Mike again—”

“Obviously it’s Magic Mike again.”

“Goddamn it, Lo.”

Nico was laughing now, shoulders shaking as he pulled out of the lot. “This is gonna be a long night.”

The TV glowed soft in the dim room, some half-forgotten action flick winding toward its finale. Empty Taco Bell bags littered the coffee table alongside paper cups of drive-through margaritas, the remains of their little rebellion against the day.

Dom was out cold, snoring low with a half-eaten churro clutched like a lifeline. Gino sat sprawled at the other end of the couch, rubbing Lola’s feet like it was his goddamn job. Nico had ended up with his ankles in Lola’s lap, her small hands absentmindedly massaging the knots out of his calves as she sipped from her straw.

The chaos had burned down to something almost domestic. Almost.

Gino shook his head, chewing.

“You don’t just push him, Lo. You throw matches at gasoline. One day it’s gonna catch, and when it does—” he smirked, “—we’ll be peeling you off the damn floor.”

Lola’s grin turned sly, stretching her toes into his palms.

“Please. It already catches. That’s half the fun—seeing how far I can push before he snaps and pins me down.”

Nico’s brow arched, sharp and curious.

“So what does that mean, exactly? You’re just… poking the bear?”

Her eyes glittered, voice low, teasing. “More like… dancing with it. He’s got more self-control than anyone I’ve ever met, but when it breaks?” Her grin spread, lazy and lethal. “That’s mine. All mine.”

The boys both went quiet at that, Nico shifting like he wasn’t sure if he should respect it or run, and Gino shaking his head with a laugh that was just a little too sharp.

The credits began to roll, the light from the screen flickering across Lola’s face. She tilted her head back against the couch, eyes drifting closed like she was finally—finally—letting herself rest.

And that’s when the front door opened.

Footsteps, deliberate. Heavy. A presence that hit the room before the man even crossed the threshold.

Enzo.

The air shifted—thickened—and just like that, the whole night changed.