Accidentally Yours Chapter 86

**Lola**

The weeks blurred into a rhythm Lola never thought she’d have — a balance between work, chaos, and something dangerously close to being cared for.

Her hair appointment got pushed once, then twice, life never quite letting her sit in the salon chair long enough to bleach out her deep cherry red. But she kept every makeup session with Babbs. Each time she slipped into the seat, the artist raised an eyebrow like she knew Lola was lying through her teeth about “some show” she needed flawless skin and tattoo cover-up for — but Babbs never called her out. Just dusted her in powder, brushed color over her lips, and let Lola keep her secrets.

The gym became part of her days too. Enzo’s laughter still echoed in her ears — I could always just stop — and her defiant reply, the vow to make herself strong enough to outlast him. Three mornings a week she found herself downstairs, legs burning on machines, muscles shaking through free weights. The trainers didn’t ask questions. She showed up, sweat, left. And every time, she swore she heard Enzo’s smug voice in her head.

And then there was the shop. Lola had thrown herself back into it with a vengeance. Fourteen-hour days weren’t unusual as she clawed her schedule back into order, making up for every client she’d had to shuffle during the chaos. She was exhausted most nights, stumbling home ink-stained and sore — but Enzo was always waiting. With food, with water, with hands that kneaded her feet until she stopped grumbling. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes with fire. Always with love.

It was a strange kind of peace. Messy, demanding, laced with danger on every edge — but peace all the same.

And now? San Diego was next. Another expo. Another chance to step into the spotlight, even if she pretended it was just work. This time she’d fly. Enzo couldn’t go, but Nico, Dom, and six of his men would. She’d rolled her eyes at the overkill, but part of her liked it — knowing she was watched, wanted, tethered.

The kitchen smelled like garlic, olive oil, and the kind of comfort only carbs could deliver. Lola stood at the stove, stirring sauce in one pan and checking the sizzling chicken in another, crop top hanging off one shoulder and yoga pants painted to her skin. She’d tied her hair back in a messy knot, barefoot on cool tile, humming under her breath.

She didn’t even hear Nico come in until his voice rasped behind her.

“Damn it, Lola.”

She jumped, spatula clattering against the pan. “Jesus, Nico—announce yourself or you're getting a bell!”

But he didn’t apologize. He just leaned against the counter, eyes dragging shamelessly down her frame. “It should be illegal for you to wear yoga pants.”

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You already had a great ass before,” he said matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. His hand slid over her hip, bold and unhurried, giving her cheek a squeeze. “But now that you’ve been working out—”

**SMACK**.

His palm cracked against her ass, sharp enough she yelped.

“—it’s dangerous to everyone.”

She turned, spatula pointed at his chest like a weapon. “Nico!”

He grinned, unrepentant, eyes glittering. “What? I’m just being honest.”

Before she could swat him, another voice cut in. Smooth. Dark. Dangerous.

“Agreed.”

Enzo.

He filled the doorway like he owned the whole world, which—between the ports, the crews, the empire—he nearly did. His gaze swept her body, lingered on the curve of her ass where Nico’s handprint was already pinking her skin. His jaw ticked.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear those anywhere but inside this suite,” he said, voice low and even, but heavy with promise. “I could kill every man who looks too long—” his eyes flicked to Nico, sharp as a blade, “—but I’d never get to see you then.”

The air went thick.

Lola arched a brow, smirking as she flipped her spatula in her hand. “So your solution is what—ban my yoga pants from public view?”

Enzo crossed the room, caging her against the stove, his hand spanning her hip like he owned it. “Keep them for me. Or better yet, keep them off.”

Lola smirked, stirring the pan once before flicking her gaze toward Nico. “You heard the man.” She crooked a finger, wicked. “On your knees, pretty boy. Help me out.”

Nico blinked, half-laughing like she had to be joking—until she stepped back just enough to give him room.

“Lo—”

“Don’t ‘Lo’ me.” She tipped her chin toward the waistband of her yoga pants, eyes glinting. “Boss says off. Be useful.”

Enzo didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just leaned heavier against the counter, watching like a predator letting his little devil stir the pot.

With a muttered curse, Nico dropped to one knee, fingers catching the band at her hips. He tugged, slow, until the stretch of fabric hugged just under the curve of her ass.

“Right there.” Lola’s voice softened to a dangerous purr. She stroked a hand down her thigh, stopping inches from where his face hovered. “So tell me… can you really see the progress? All those hours on thighs and glutes paying off?”

Nico’s throat worked. Up this close, with Enzo’s stare boring into him, the usual cocky banter died in his mouth.

“…Yeah, Lo.” His voice came out rougher than he meant. His hands slid down, stroking the line of her thighs before cupping the firm curve of her ass where the fabric bit in. “Yeah, you can definitely see it.”

Her smirk widened, pleased. “Thought so.”

Enzo’s hand tightened on her hip, grounding, claiming. His voice cut in—low, dangerous, amused. “Careful, Gattino. Keep tempting him like that and I’ll remind you both exactly who those hours were for.”

Nico cursed under his breath but hooked his fingers in the band anyway, tugging them down, slow and reluctant. Lola pushed his head lower until the fabric slid past her thighs, her calves—until she stepped free, left standing at the stove in nothing but her crop top and a black thong.

She tossed her hair back and stirred the pan like nothing was amiss. “Hey, I’m just trying to give the boss what he wants before I leave for two days.”

That was the exact moment the door opened.

“Holy fucking shit, Lola!” Dom choked, immediately shielding his face with his hand—though his fingers spread wide enough to peek through. “Put that thing away!”

Gino stopped dead in the doorway, eyes bouncing from Nico on his knees, to Lola half-naked at the stove, to Enzo—fully dressed, leaning against the counter like he’d orchestrated the whole damn circus.

“What the actual—” He dragged a hand down his face, then threw his arms wide. “Nico’s on his knees, Lola’s in a thong, Enzo’s fully clothed… who the fuck do I have to screw to be part of this arrangement?”

“Ew, Gino!” Lola shot back immediately, rolling her eyes. “He’s your cousin!”

“That’s not—” Gino stopped himself, shaking his head hard. “Y’know what? Nevermind. I don’t even wanna know anymore.”

The sauce smoked sharp and bitter, curling up from the pan like a taunt. Lola’s nose wrinkled, irritation sparking hotter than the burner. Her one request? A quiet meal before half of them scattered for days. Of course, with this circus, she should’ve known better.

”Pause.”

She didn’t shout. Didn’t need to. Just one firm word, crisp enough to freeze the whole kitchen. Enzo’s eyes narrowed, Nico’s hands stilled, Dom blinked, Gino’s smirk faltered for half a second.

Lola bent, lips brushing Nico’s ear. A whisper. A plan. His brow shot up, then he nodded, quick. He passed it off low to Dom, who muttered a curse but shifted, ready.

“Dinner’s ruined,” Lola announced, sliding her phone from the counter. “Ruby? Yeah, it’s me. Scrap the kitchen, get something set up on the rooftop in an hour. Big spread. Thanks, babe.” She hung up, turning back to the boys with a wicked little grin. “So. Game on.”

The signal was subtle—two fingers brushing Nico’s wrist. He moved instantly, Dom with him. They caught Enzo’s arms before he could blink.

“Don’t,” Enzo growled, his voice low and lethal, but Nico and Dom held tight, shoulders straining under the effort. He hated being touched, hated being contained, and his glare promised someone was going to bleed for this.

Lola didn’t flinch. She sauntered past him like he wasn’t even there, straight to Gino—smug bastard leaning against the counter, arms wide like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.

She jumped, legs wrapping his waist. His big hands cupped her ass like second nature.

“Lo…” Enzo’s voice cracked sharper, more dangerous, as he strained against his own men.

“Relax,” she purred, nuzzling her cheek against Gino’s temple, green eyes blazing over his shoulder at Enzo. “We’re just playing.”

Then she turned, lips brushing the shell of Gino’s ear. Soft. Calculated. “Lick my neck.”

He hesitated half a beat, then obeyed. Tongue dragging hot and slow against her throat.

Enzo bucked hard, nearly breaking Nico’s grip.

“Now,” Lola whispered, breath hitching, “slowly start pulling the sides of my panties down my thighs. He’ll lose it. That’s when I run. Meet us upstairs later.”

Gino’s fingers brushed the curve of her hip, hooked the waistband, tugged just enough to bare the swell of her ass.

Enzo snapped.

The growl that ripped from his chest didn’t sound human. He surged forward, dragging Nico and Dom with him, muscles bulging, every vein in his neck standing out like he was about to tear the house down brick by brick.

“Perfect,” Lola whispered. And then she hopped off Gino, fire sparking in her veins, and bolted.

She didn’t run to their room. Too obvious. Too easy. Her bare feet slapped against marble as she darted down the hall, heart pounding, grin feral. The study door slammed behind her just as Enzo caught up.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t speak. He grabbed her mid-stride, spun her, and threw her down onto the desk in the middle of the room.

Papers scattered. A pen clattered to the floor.

His hands locked her down against the desk, breath hot against her ear. “You think you can fucking run?”

Lola’s smirk curved, sharp and breathless. “Been waiting on you, big guy.”

She arched under him, panting between laughter and fire. “I just wanted to cook my guys dinner—dinner—but you lot don’t know how to behave…”

RIP.

The sound of fabric tearing cut the air, sharp and final. Her panties shredded in his fist, tossed aside like they were never meant to exist.

Enzo’s snarl scraped her ear. “Good. Now you’ll learn what happens when you play games at my table.”

And Lola? She only grinned wider.

***And this is why I play games at your table.***

***For this, right here.***