Page 143

Story: Taken

My brother’s fists tighten on the table.
“Family? You’re joking, right?” He throws a glance over at the two men who are sitting on either side of me. “Your sonstookmy sister, and I’m supposed to what—welcome them both into my home with open arms?!”
Pain slices through me at the hurt in his voice.
“Dario—”
He doesn’t let me get another word in.
“No!” His voice shakes as he carries on. “You don’t belong with them, Chiara. You belong here with us; with Papa, and withme.” His chest heaves as he shakes his head, his eyes full of emotion. “We’re your family.”
My chest aches, feeling torn between the two men who share the same blood as me, and the two men who have captured my heart.
A palm is pressed to my thigh from my right, and an arm is stretched along my shoulders from my left.
Their touch isn’t only for show—no. Their touch is there to make a point.
Not only to me, but to Papa and Dario too.
Comforting.
Possessive.
Mine.
My cheeks burn, even though they haven’t done more to me thanjusttouch me, since Papa is right there.
Sitting opposite Nikolai, Isaak rises from his chair, looking over at Papa.
“Let us speak like fathers, Francesco.”
Papa looks at me for a fraction of a second before he looks away, nodding as he stands up too.
Together, the two of them move towards the hallway, and into Papa’s study, closing the door behind them both with a heavy thud.
The room feels heavier now that it's only us in here, the muffled voices of both our fathers fading away into the background.
Silence stretches as we stare at each other.
Thick.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.
I don’t know how to make things better.
Dario drums his fingers against the table, each tap sounding more and more like a countdown to an explosion.
Nikolai sits relaxed in his chair, as calm as ever, but there’s a sharpness to his gaze—a predator sizing up to his rival.
Mikhail simply grins, like he’s itching to push my brother even further.
“So,” he drawls as he finally breaks the silence. “Is this the part where you threaten us again?”
Dario’s lips press into a thin line.
“Don’t tempt me.”

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