Accidentally Yours Chapter 90

**Lola**

Enzo’s gaze cut sharp to Dom and Nico. “And you two—if you let her pull something like this again, I’ll break your fucking legs myself.”

The line went dead before either of them could answer.

For a beat, the suite was silent.

Then Dom lunged.

“Wait—no—” Lola yelped as he tackled her onto the couch, Nico diving in right after to pin her arms. Fingers dug into her ribs, her sides, her thighs, merciless.

Her laughter burst out raw and uncontrollable, face already going red. “Stop—oh my god—I can’t—Dom! Nico! I’m gonna—”

“Good,” Dom grunted, relentless. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before jumping over a desk.”

“Never,” she gasped, thrashing, tears streaking down her cheeks as Nico kept her pinned.

“Then suffer,” Nico said, grinning like a wolf.

“Mercy!” Lola squealed, kicking uselessly as she dissolved into hysterics. “I’m dying!”

Finally, they let her go, both men breathless from laughing themselves, they let her go. Lola collapsed back against the cushions, breathless, silver-white hair wild around her face. She pressed a hand to her stomach, laughing through the sting of her busted lip. “Okay—honest? I don’t know if the punishment fits the crime. My abs feel like I just survived Navy SEAL training.”

She tipped her head back, smirk crooked. “But regret it? Not a fucking chance. That bitch was eye-fucking you two the second we walked in. What was I supposed to do—smile and hand her a room key?”

Nico’s smirk curved slow, dangerous. “So what you’re really saying is… you were jealous.”

Dom froze mid-pace, narrowing his eyes at her. “Shit. Were you?”

For once, Lola hesitated. Then she scoffed, throwing her hands wide. “I don’t know. Fucking maybe. I can’t explain it, alright? But you’re both mine. I know it doesn’t make sense, and yeah—it probably sounds childish. But it’s true. You’re mine. And fuck that bitch for thinking otherwise.”

Dom let out a bark of laughter, throwing his hands up like she’d just confessed to murder. “Christ, Lo. Possessive much?”

“Damn right,” she snapped.

Nico slid closer, hands finding her hips as he tugged her into his lap like it was nothing. “Messy or not, you’re not wrong. We’re yours.” His voice dipped, low and steady against her ear. “Always have been.”

Dom groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but his mouth betrayed him with a twitch of a smile. “You’re insane, you know that?” He jabbed a finger at her, still pacing. “But fine. Yours. Happy?”

Her grin turned feral, bloodied and wicked, green eyes sparking as she draped herself back against Nico’s chest. “Ecstatic.”

Nico chuckled, mouthing at her temple. “And when we finally decide to get wifed up like Enzo?” His smirk sharpened as his eyes cut to Dom. “They’ll have to go through her first.”

Dom shook his head, scandalized and resigned all at once. “God help anyone dumb enough to try.”

Lola purred, licking a smear of blood off her lip. “Damn right. I don’t share well.”

The jet smelled like champagne and antiseptic, leather seats littered with wipes and empty flutes. Lola peeled her gloves off with her teeth, dropping them onto the table as Dom flexed his freshly wrapped arm.

“Looks clean,” he said, rolling his shoulder to test the stretch. “Guess I’ll survive.”

“You’ll do more than survive,” Nico cut in, already tugging his sleeve up to admire his own fresh ink. “Lo made me look like I walked off a fucking battlefield. Shield’s perfect.”

“Please,” Dom muttered, smirk tugging at his mouth. “She only rushed mine so she could get to the champagne.”

“Rushed?” Lola gasped in mock offense, sprawling back against his chest like she might faint. “Excuse me, sir, I don’t rush art.”

Nico snorted. “Tell that to Gino. She banged his out last week during Casablanca. Middle of Bogart’s speech, she’s just humming along and tattooing like it’s Sunday brunch.”

“Yeah, and his lines still came out cleaner than yours,” Lola shot back, smirking as Nico flipped her off across the cabin.

Dom tipped his glass toward her, voice going warm. “Dragon still takes it, though. That ripple effect? I saw half the judges squinting like they thought the water was actually moving.”

The corner of Lola’s mouth tugged despite herself. “Best compliment I ever get. If they swear it looks alive, I know I nailed it.”

Nico leaned back with a lazy grin, champagne fizzing in his glass. “You didn’t just nail it. You owned that whole expo. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lola muttered, lifting her glass anyway. “Another day, another trophy. Now drink before I tattoo something worse on you midair.”

They clinked glasses, laughter spilling easy as the jet tilted lower, the desert waiting for them. Inked, tipsy, and buzzing with the kind of victory that never got old.

The jet rolled to a stop, engines humming low as the cabin lights flicked on. Nico stretched, wincing at the tug in his freshly wrapped arm. Dom shoved his phone into his pocket with a sigh.

“Back in Vegas,” Nico muttered. “Bet Enzo’s already pacing.”

“Bet he’s got someone pacing for him,” Dom said dryly.

Lola slipped her glasses off, tucking them into her bag as she stood, travel kit slung over one shoulder. “We’re not heading straight back. I need to stop by the shop.”

Both men groaned in stereo.

“Lo,” Nico said, dragging a hand down his face, “it’s midnight. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

She shook her head, smug. “Nope. Travel gear goes in the shop, not Enzo’s penthouse. I’m taking a couple days off, but when I clock back in, I want my kit exactly where I need it. Non-negotiable.”

Dom muttered, “Figures. Half-dead from champagne and she still wants to work.”

“Not work,” Lola corrected sweetly, brushing past them toward the stairs. “Organization. And organization makes me hot.”

Nico shot Dom a look, resigned. “Guess we’re stopping at the shop.”

“Guess so,” Dom sighed, trailing after her.

Outside, the night air clung hot and dry as they ducked into the waiting SUV. Lola curled into her corner of the backseat, travel kit propped on her knees, humming under her breath like she hadn’t just strong-armed two grown men into a midnight detour.

When they finally pulled up to the shop, she was already reaching for the handle. “Ten minutes, tops,” Lola said, popping her seatbelt. “Seriously—it’s gonna be so fast. Just keep the car running. I’m ready to be back at home.”

Dom groaned from the other side. “Lo, I’m dead on my feet. Take Nico.”

She leaned forward between the seats, kissing each of them quick on the cheek before they could keep whining. “Nope. Don’t start. Stay in the car, both of you. Behave.”

Nico muttered, “Famous last words,” but he didn’t move.

Lola smirked, silver hair swinging as she slipped into the heat of the night.

The SUV idled at the curb, headlights washing over the shop’s front. Wide stretch of sidewalk between them and the door, big enough that Dom could slouch back with his arms crossed and still keep a clear line of sight on Lola through the glass. Nico leaned an elbow on the window frame, tracking her every step like he didn’t trust the quiet of the street.

Lola keyed the door and slipped inside. The shop lights flicked on with a low hum. Same smell as always—ink, steel, citrus cleaner. Comforting. Familiar. She set her travel kit at her station and unzipped it, machines and bottles clinking like old friends.

***In. Out. Easy.***

She crouched to shove the case under the counter, glanced around once—calendar still pinned up, dragon stencil taped to the wall, everything exactly as she’d left it. For half a heartbeat, it felt normal.

Then the hair on her arms prickled.

***Wrong.***

The word ripped through her head like a bell.

She straightened fast, chair scraping behind her, already angling toward the exit. Her palm brushed her tattoo table for balance, legs pushing hard—

The blast swallowed her.

Soundless pressure tore through the shop, ripping the floor from under her feet. Glass screamed apart, needles and bottles whistled like shrapnel. Heat punched into her chest and flung her backward.

The table flipped with her, metal edge smashing her ribs as they crashed together into the wall. Pain detonated through her side. Her head whipped back, skull cracking against tile. White burst behind her eyes.

Dust, fire, and static swallowed the air. The neon sign gave one last flicker and died.

Lola’s lips filled with the copper sting of blood. Her vision went gray at the edges, then black.

And in the last beat before the dark took her, one name carved itself through the ringing void:

***Enzo***.