Accidentally Yours Chapter 80

**Nico**

The bourbon sat heavy in his chest, but not heavier than the guilt.

Her throat. His hand. That split-second slip where instinct overrode reason.

And Lola had laughed.

So when Enzo walked onto the balcony, barefoot and loose in nothing but sweatpants, Nico was ready for the blade.

Instead, Enzo poured himself a drink. Sat down. Calm.

“She already told me,” he said, voice low, even.

Nico’s chest tightened. “What?”

“The dressing room.” A sip of bourbon, deliberate. “Your hand at her throat.”

Nico nearly dropped his glass. “Enzo, I swear—”

“She laughed when she told me,” Enzo cut in, gaze sharp as steel.

Nico blinked. “You’re not pissed?”

“Oh, I’m pissed.” Enzo’s jaw flexed, but his tone stayed measured. “But not at you. Not exactly.” He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “You’re not the first she’s teased. Won’t be the last. That’s Lola. She pushes. She tests. And me—” his mouth curved faintly, something dangerous flickering there— “I’m still learning what it means to answer that push.”

Nico swallowed hard, pulse ticking in his throat.

Enzo’s voice dropped lower. “With her, there are no walls. Everything is out in the open, all the power unleashed. And she wants it that way. She loves it that way.” He paused, sipping his bourbon like he hadn’t just admitted to being completely consumed by her. “She doesn’t run from it. She takes it. Every ounce I give her, she devours—and laughs while she’s doing it.”

Nico’s breath stalled. He hadn’t expected Enzo to sound like this. Not raw. Not… reverent.

Enzo’s hand flexed against the glass. “We broke the oak table in my room tonight. Glass everywhere. Splinters in her skin. And she was laughing.” His eyes went dark, voice rough. “She was fucking radiant. And I didn’t know—until her—that I could feel that strong. That alive.”

Nico stared, floored.

Enzo turned, eyes cutting straight through him. “She deserves to be loved, Nico. After everything she’s survived? After being used, abandoned, sold out by damn near everyone except that old woman who raised her? She deserves to be treated like a queen.” He tapped a finger against the rim of his glass. “And if you, or Dom, or Gino can give her that in your own way—if you can make her feel seen, cared for, cherished—then I want that for her. Because she deserves it all.”

Nico’s throat was dry. “But she’s yours.”

Enzo nodded once, firm. “Always. Mine, as I am hers. That’s not up for debate.” His tone sharpened, cutting through the night air. “She belongs to me. But I trust her with you—because you’re mine too. My family. My chosen men. No one else gets close.”

The conviction in his voice left Nico breathless.

Enzo leaned back, sipping his bourbon like the conversation hadn’t just cracked Nico’s chest wide open. “So tread carefully. No lines crossed. No betrayals. But if you can give her laughter, warmth, the kind of love that makes her feel like she’s untouchable—then you better fucking do it. Because if she ever doubts her worth again, I’ll take it out of your hide.”

Nico exhaled, shaky. The weight of it landed heavy, but so did the honor.

He glanced sideways at Enzo, words thick. “You ever think about how insane this sounds?”

Enzo smirked faintly, eyes on the Vegas skyline. “Every second. But she’s worth the insanity.”

Got it. Let’s give Nico the last word here, something that feels earned, meaningful, and still very him. Not flowery—because Nico isn’t that guy—but honest. A reflection of the weight of Enzo’s words and the shift this night has carved into him.

Nico sat quiet for a long stretch, bourbon glass heavy in his hand. Enzo didn’t press. He just let the silence breathe, city lights flickering in the glass between them.

Finally, Nico exhaled. Slow. Heavy.

“You know…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes cutting out toward the Strip. “I’ve watched you build an empire. Seen you bleed for it. Kill for it. Thought I knew what it meant for you to have something worth protecting.” His jaw flexed, tight. “But I’ve never seen you like this. Never seen you… happy.”

Enzo didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Nico huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so raw. “Scares the shit outta me, boss. But… if she’s the one who can give you that? Guess I’m all in too.”

He tipped his glass in a small, solemn toast. “To her. To us not fucking it up.”

The bourbon burned on the way down, but it felt right.

**Enzo**

The Strip glowed beneath them, all neon and smoke, the kind of city that never let you forget what you owed it. Enzo nursed his bourbon neat, Nico beside him in silence, both men leaning heavy into the night.

The door slid open.

Bare feet whispered across the stone. A shirt—his shirt—hanging off Lola’s shoulders. Hair messy, eyes soft in the low light.

“Bed got cold without you.” Her voice was gentle, not the chaos-fire she’d poured all day. Then her gaze flicked to Nico, concern softening her tone. “Oh, Nico. What are you doing out here? Everything okay?”

Nico stiffened like a soldier caught off guard. Enzo answered for him.

“He’s fine,” Enzo said, eyes never leaving her. “We were talking.”

Lola tilted her head, padding closer, brows tugging. “Talking about what?”

Enzo’s mouth curved, humorless. “About how he’s been chewing himself up for putting his hand around your throat.”

Her lips parted—surprise, then that flicker of wicked curiosity he knew too well.

Enzo leaned forward, setting his glass aside, his voice low, sharp enough to cut glass. “He thinks I’ll kill him for it.”

Silence stretched. The city hummed below.

Lola stepped closer, slow. “Would you?”

Enzo smirked, dark and lethal. “not when you’re mine to ruin, no matter who’s touching you.”

Nico’s breath hitched beside him. Lola froze for half a beat, then swallowed, gaze locked on Enzo’s.

Enzo rose from his chair, the night air buzzing hotter around him, his voice dropping to a rough growl.

“You want to know what I told him?”

Lola’s throat bobbed. “What?”

“That you wreck me every second of the day. That you push me to the edge until I can’t think straight—until there are no walls left in me. And then when I finally unleash it all, when I take everything I’ve been holding back and give it to you—” He shook his head once, slow, like even he couldn’t believe it. “—you fucking laugh. You moan through broken glass and splinters in your skin and beg for more. You’ve turned me into something I didn’t even know I could be.”

His eyes burned into hers.

“And now you’re doing it to him, too.”

Nico shifted in his chair, the bourbon glass trembling in his hand.

***Yeah, fratello (brother). Feel it. She’s fire. She’s death. She’s the only truth that matters.***

Lola’s lips curved—soft, dangerous. She stepped the last of the distance, sliding into Enzo’s space like she’d always belonged there.

“So what happens now?” she whispered.

Her smirk sharpened, pure sin. “Oh… does Daddy want to play? Because I don’t know how much more my body can take.”

She didn’t wait for his answer. Didn’t need it. She turned—slow as honey—and lowered herself onto Nico’s lap in a reverse straddle, facing Enzo. Her back arched just enough that her ass pressed into Nico’s center, her gaze never once breaking from Enzo’s.

***Oh, my diavoletta… what the fuck are you doing.***

Nico went rigid, hands hovering like he was afraid to breathe. “Lola…” he warned, low.

She caught his wrists—gentle, unyielding—and settled them on her waist. “Relax,” she teased, tone honey-sweet. “Enzo’s right there.” Then, tilting her head back toward Enzo, she smirked. “Shall we see what Daddy thinks is appropriate?”

Christ. She’s going to be the end of me. My best friend—caught in the middle of her fire. And I can’t even be angry. Because this isn’t about Nico. It’s about me. She’s testing me.

Nico swallowed hard, eyes wide, torn between panic and want. “Enzo…?”

Enzo leaned back in his chair, every muscle strung tight, heat pounding through him. His voice came out low, deliberate, lethal.

“Careful, diavoletta. You’re not tempting him—you’re tempting me.”

Her grin only widened, wicked triumph glittering in her eyes. She twisted just slightly against Nico, brushing closer to his cock, before turning her mouth toward his jaw.

“Enzo…” Her voice dripped silk and fire. “Should we ask him if he wants to play?”

Nico coughed, sharp, startled. “Wait—what?”

Enzo’s mouth curved in a smile that wasn’t kind. “Ask him.”

Her smirk cut like glass. She brushed her lips over Nico’s jaw, whispering, “Well, lupo? You want a taste?”

Nico’s pulse leapt—Enzo could see it hammering in his throat. Silence stretched tight as wire. Then, rough, hoarse, barely steady:

“…Yes. Please.”