Accidentally Yours Chapter 83

****Lola****

Lola’s lashes cracked open, for the second time that morning, vision swimming until shapes sharpened.

Nico.

Pressed into him like he was her favorite pillow, legs tangled with his, her arm tucked against his chest. Blanket sliding halfway to the floor. His shirt soft under her cheek—and wet. A dark patch spread over the cotton right above his pec.

***Oh, hell no. Drool. I really knocked out.***

His arm cinched around her back, even in sleep. Solid. Warm. Unmovable.

For one blissful second, she let herself sink into it. Then the thought hit—sharp, unwanted.

Enzo.

Her stomach flipped. She needed to text him. Let him know. Before his mind went nuclear, before he thought she’d blurred a line she swore she wouldn’t.

Because this? This was comfort. A reset. Not betrayal. She’d never give him a reason to doubt her, not when he trusted her with the most dangerous parts of himself.

Her pulse picked up, loud in her ears. He’d see this and know, right? Know it’s just sleep? Just safety?

Her fingers twitched against Nico’s shirt, the urge to dig out her phone immediate and sharp. Text him, Lo. Make sure he knows. Before it looks like something it’s not.

The front door slammed.

“Alright, so we’ve got three new crews to brief, half the east wing still hasn’t—”

Gino stopped dead.

Blanket half-off, Nico flat on his back, Lola draped across his chest, their legs tangled like ivy. A dark wet spot bloomed on his shirt where her drool had claimed territory.

Gino’s face went slack, then contorted like he’d just walked into a crime scene. “Oh my fucking god.”

He spun, hands in his hair, pacing. “Nope. Nope nope nope. Absolutely not. You’re dead, Lo. And you—” he jabbed at Nico, “—he’s gonna skin you alive. Both of you. Jesus Christ, I’m not dying in Vegas, this is not how I go out!”

Still half-asleep, Lola blinked up at him, groggy, throat dry. She pushed herself up just enough to wipe her mouth, muttering, “Gino—”

But he was already dialing. “Nope. Not listening. He deserves to hear it from me before I’m digging your graves. Boss? Yeah, it’s me. You might wanna—”

Enzo’s voice came sharp through the line, clipped, annoyed. “Who’s going to die and why, Gino? Hurry up.”

Gino froze, then blurted in one breath, “Lo’s passed out drooling on Nico’s chest like it’s The Notebook and I swear to Christ I had nothing to do with it but if you want me to shoot him I’ll do it right now.”

Silence.

Then Enzo’s voice, flat as a blade: “Tell him thanks. And tell Lola I’ll see her when I get home. She better eat something before then. They’ve both been laying there all day and she needs food and water.”

Click.

The line went dead.

Gino just stood there, phone in his hand, mouth hanging open. “What the fuck. That’s it? That’s it?”

Lola groaned, dropping her head back against Nico’s chest with a thud. “I was trying to tell you.”

Nico cracked one eye open, voice gravelly but steady. “First thing I did was text him. He knew.”

Her head snapped up, heart catching. “What did he say? Was he busy? I’m going to text him—” 

Gino threw his hands in the air. “Un-fucking-believable. This is my life now.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, and message from your boyfriend: you two have been laying here all day, and you need to eat and drink something.”

Nico huffed a short laugh, rubbing at his face. “He’s probably been watching through the cameras the whole time.” 

Something in Lola’s chest finally unclenched at that. Relief hit her like a warm wave.

***Of course. Enzo always knew. He’d seen. He’d allowed it. Complete transparency. No secrets.***

Her voice softened. “That… actually makes me feel better.”

Gino looked like he was about to combust. “Feel better? Feel better? I feel like I need a will!”

“C’mon,” Nico muttered, untangling from the blanket and standing, Lola still attached to his side like a barnacle. “Coffee. Let’s get this over with.”

They shuffled toward the kitchen, Gino trailing after them, muttering curses under his breath.

Around the table, mugs in hand, the meltdown simmered into conversation. Gino demanded, “So… what the hell even is this? Huh? ‘Cause I thought I knew the rules, and then you two decide to audition for some mafia cuddle-porn flick on my couch?”

Lola blew across her mug, keeping her tone even. “It’s not what you think.”

Nico backed her up. “We talked about it. Last night. This morning. Lines, boundaries. Enzo’s in the loop. Always.”

Gino looked between them like they’d sprouted horns. “Lines? Boundaries? Enzo gave permission for this?”

Silence stretched for a beat. Then Lola sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is a conversation we really should be having with him here.”

Nico nodded. “Agreed. No point trying to dissect it without the man himself.”

Gino threw his arms wide. “Great. Fantastic. So until then, I’m just supposed to drink my coffee and pretend this is normal?”

Lola smirked over the rim of her mug. “Pretty much.” 

“Pretty much?!” Gino’s voice cracked an octave. He slammed his hand against the counter, eyes wild. “What the fuck even happened? You two keep talking about lines and boundaries like it’s a goddamn board meeting. Did you actually do something? With Enzo right there?!”

Nico groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Yeah. But again—we should wait for Enzo to get into any of this.”

“So you’re not going to tell me what happened?” Gino barked.

“Well, we can,” Nico said carefully. “But there’s no point until he’s here. I don’t want to talk about it without him.”

“Unbelievable!” Gino spun in a circle, hands in his hair like the ceiling might collapse on him. “You’re seriously gonna make me wait?! You’re both insane. I don’t wanna wait!” 

Lola glanced at Nico, lips twitching. “Should we just tell him?”

Nico muttered, “I still think we wait.”

Her grin sharpened. “Or… we could show him.” She pulled her phone from the counter, already scrolling.

Gino froze, staring like she’d just detonated a grenade. “Show me? Show me what? WHAT DID YOU TWO DO?”

“Jake,” Lola sang into her phone, thumbs flying. “Send balcony footage. Two to four a.m. Thanks, babe.”

Nico’s head snapped up. “Lo—”

She winked at him, sipping her coffee with her free hand. “Relax. Transparency’s a good thing.”

Gino staggered back a step, clutching his chest like he needed divine intervention. “Balcony footage?! You maniacs. No. No, don’t you dare—”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Lola’s smirk curved sharper. “Too late.”

The feed was grainy, angled from the balcony door, but it didn’t matter—there was plenty to see. 

There she was, perched on Nico’s lap, his hands tentative on her waist until Enzo moved in like a storm. The camera caught just enough: her body dragged off Nico, spun, bent, and then Enzo wrecking her upright, hand at her throat, fucking her hard enough the frame shook.

“NOPE,” Gino barked, nearly dropping his mug. “No—no, no, no. That’s—you’re—he’s—holy shit.”

Nico rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah.”

Lola smirked into her coffee. “Not my best angle, but… gets the point across.”

On screen, her head lolled back, her legs trembling, Enzo pounding into her mercilessly while Nico sat there like a wrecked altar boy. Then came the telltale moment—the way she seized, convulsed, and then just… went limp. 

“Oh my god,” Gino croaked, staggering back. “You BLACKED OUT? Lo, you straight-up couldn’t handle it.”

Her laugh came sharp, wicked. “Handle it? Please. I’d like to see you survive four quick ones back-to-back on top of everything else he put me through before that.” She rolled her shoulder with a wince. “Pretty sure this thing’s half-dislocated.”

Gino froze. “…Excuse me? What the fuck do you mean dislocated?”

She sipped her coffee like she’d just commented on the weather. “Table gave out.”

Gino blinked. “TABLE—WHAT—”

Nico sighed, resigned. “Coffee table in his room. Glass top. He had her legs by her head, mid-thrust, and… it snapped.”

Gino threw both hands skyward. “LO, he fucked you through a goddamn table?!”

She smirked, unbothered. “And that’s why I like to rile him up. Worth it.”

Gino stumbled to a chair, muttering into his mug, “Nope. Nope. I need bleach for my brain. I need prayer.”

The video cut to black, mercifully. Silence stretched for a beat—just Gino’s ragged breathing and the hum of the fridge.

Then he jabbed a finger at her, wild-eyed. “You’re insane. He’s insane. This whole house is insane.”

“Welcome to the family,” Lola deadpanned, tossing back the last of her coffee.