~ELENA~

A loud knock on the door startles me awake in the morning.

I groan softly.

I don't like being woken up from sleep.

I like to sleep and wake up by myself.

Groggy and still tangled in my sheets, I sit up with a confused frown.

Who is knocking??

Sunlight is peeking through the curtains, and my phone says it's just five minutes past seven.

The knock comes again, this time followed by a familiar voice.

"Elena," Nico calls. "Get your pretty ass up. We're going to the gym"

I blink, still half-asleep.

Gym??

I drag myself to the door and open it, only to be greeted by Nico wearing a very clean white singlet, and a pair of low hanging black sweatpants and a grin that should be illegal this early in the morning.

"I don't recall signing up for torture this morning" I grumble, rubbing my eyes.

He chuckles.

"Com'on little dove, Riccardo and Vincenzo are downstairs already."

I roll my eyes.

"Okay, fine. Being fit isn't a bad idea after all" I say.

"Exactly" he murmurs. "You know where the gym is??"

"I'll find my way" I reply to him.

"Sure. We'll be waiting" he winks at me.

I roll my eyes and slam the door in his face.

Such a big flirt!

I walk to the bathroom to brush my mouth and brush my face.

I come out of the bathroom minutes later and walk to my wardrobe to pick one of my gym clothes.

I had bought some of my gym clothes when I wanted to please Alessandro by going to the gym with him.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to wear any of them.

I think it's now useful again.

After staring at the wardrobe for minutes, deciding on which clothes to wear, I end up wearing a sleek, form fitting black crop top and high waisted black compression leggings which hug my hips and thighs and highlight my curves.

Then I wear my sleek training sneakers.

I spray perfume all over my body, then walk out of my room.

***

My eyes widen when I get to the gym and open the door.

I really should have stayed in bed.

I wasn't prepared.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for the sight of three shirtless, sweat-licked, sinfully built stepbrothers in front of me.

It dawns on me how identical they are.

For a while, I struggle to differentiate them.

Each has tattoos on his body, and the one with the most tattoos is obviously Nico.

I can't tell the other two apart.

The gym is massive, sleek and modern-more like a private fitness club than a home gym. It smells like mint and sweat, and testosterone.

I step into the gym, and immediately feel like I've been thrown into a sinfully hot fever dream.

One glances up from his stretching and gives me a small, polite smile.

"Good morning, Elena" he greets, and I can tell it's Riccardo.

Good thing I'm able to differentiate them with their personalities.

"Hey," I say softly, trying not to melt at how his dark curls fall over his forehead. He's in a gray tank top and shorts, muscles carved and glistening.

I study the tattoo on his body for easy identification next time.

He has a black and red snake wrapped around a dagger tattoo on the inside of his biceps. It coils perfectly with his muscles, the head of the snake near his wrist. It's sleek, dangerous and oddly elegant...just like him.

The other is definitely Vincenzo and he doesn't even spare me a glance.

He's at the far end of the gym, punching a sandbag like it personally offended him. His jaw is clenched, muscles flexing with every precise, powerful hit.

He's pure ice and fury, and somehow it makes him even more irresistible.

I study the tattoo on his body too. His tattoo is a massive black wolf head etched across his back. The eyes of the wolf glow with white ink, glowing faintly under the overhead light.

Scars...deep, long and old–slash through parts of it, like he earned both the ink and the pain layered underneath.

I am staring too much and I force myself to look away.

And immediately regret it.

Because my eyes land on Nico. He's lifting weight, tattoos on full display, biceps bulging with each curl. His sweatpants ride low on his hips, teasing the dangerous V-line.

His tattoo is sprawled across the left side of his chest, creeping down his ribs and disappearing into his pants. And another, a burning rose, thorns curling into flames that occupied his left arm and hand is rendered in dark, smoky ink.

The contrast of the ink against his golden tan skin is obscene.

Each of them wears wars on their bodies. Bullet scars on shoulders, knife cuts slashed across abs, faint bruises that hints at fights that ended badly for the other guy.

But instead of ruining their beauty, it adds to it.

They don't look broken.

They look like gods who have been to hell and back...and came out sexier.

And that, in itself, is terrifying.

And right now? I'm the only girl in this damn room. With them.

"Still staring, little dove??" Nico calls lazily, catching my eyes trailing over his abs. "You've been quiet."

My cheeks turn red in embarrassment. He just caught me gawking at their bodies and his grin isn't helping matters.

I snap my gaze away and cross my arms.

He chuckles and then comes close to me and whispers in my ears.

"You like what you see??"

~ELENA~

"You like what you see?" Nico whispers in my ears.

I step back immediately.

"I wasn't..."

"You were," he tosses me a water bottle. "It's okay. I'd stare at me too."

I catch it with a glare, but my heart is racing.

Working out beside them is a form of psychological torture.

I walk to the treadmill and try to focus on the treadmill, but Nico decides to get on the one next to mine, walking in sync beside me, shirt still nowhere in sight.

He leans over, whispering, "I could train you personally, you know. One-on-one sessions. Very hands-on."

"You're distracting," I mumble.

He chuckles. "That's kind of the point."

I steal a glance at Vincenzo again. Still ignoring me. He hasn't given me attention since yesterday I got here and I hate it. I love attention.

He is still pounding that bag like it owes him something. And Riccardo is on the bench press now, his muscles rippling as he exhales with each lift.

God, how are they all this attractive??

And why did I agree to come here??

My eyes land on Nico again.

He's stretching now, and my gaze, against my better judgement, drops to the curves of his lower back, the way his sweat drips down his spine, and the way his muscles ripple when he straightens up and rolls his shoulders.

I squeeze my thighs together, heat pooling low in my stomach.

This is insane.

I shouldn't be thinking about these things. Not about my stepbrothers.

But their bodies are a damn masterpiece, and every flex, every movement, is pure seduction.

And the worst part??

They know it.

Most especially Nico.

As if to confirm that thought, he catches me staring again and grins like the devil.

"Need help stretching, Elena??" He drawls.

I scowl. "I'm good."

"Oh, I disagree," he leans closer. "You're all tense. I could help work that out of you. With my hands. Or my mouth."

My jaw drops.

"Nico!" I exclaim in disbelief.

He's openly flirting with me in the presence of his brothers.

Riccardo clears his throat nearby, pretending not to hear, but his smirk betrays him.

Even Vincenzo glances at us this time. Just for a second. But it's a sharp unreadable look. Then he turns back to the sandbag like I don't exist.

Why does that stupid indifference sting more than Nico's shameless flirting??

"Ignore him," Riccardo says, walking past with a towel slung around his neck. "Nico flirts with everything that breathes."

"But I don't flirt with everything like I flirt with you, Elena," Nico counters, eyes locked on me.

It's then I realize the full, dangerous weight of the situation.

Three beautiful, intimidating brothers.

One complicated past.

And one forbidden attraction I can't shake.

Because even now, as I watch Nico bench press with ease, muscles bulging, veins running like a map across his forearms...

I know I'm in trouble.

And maybe, just maybe...

I want the trouble.

I feel my heart pound and my core throb as I imagine the way his hands would feel, holding me, teasing me, wrecking me.

What the hell is wrong with me??

I am yet to identify which of the triplet I made out with at the club and now I'm wishing to be touched by another.

I force myself to look away and close my eyes.

But even with my eyes closed, I can still see them.

Nico.

Riccardo.

Vincenzo.

Each of them has a different kind of temptation.

And I'm already spiraling.

God help me.

I watch Vincenzo leave the room without talking to any of us.

Seems he's not only cold towards me. He's also cold towards his brothers.

***

After what feels like the longest hour of my life, I finally get off the treadmill. My legs are jelly, my throat is parched, and my mind is a fog of inappropriate thoughts and forbidden fantasies.

"Breakfast??" Riccardo asks casually, tossing his towel over his shoulder like he didn't just make my insides churn from the bench press alone.

"Yes. Please," I mutter, eager for anything that will get me away from the gym...and from Nico's insufferably smug face.

We head toward the kitchen in silence. I try to put some distance between myself and Nico, but somehow he ends up walking beside me. Like a shadow that smells ridiculously good.

I sit at the marble island while Riccardo grabs eggs and bread from the bridge.

"You cook??" I ask, surprised.

He shrugs. "Not really. I just cook simple things."

"You should try his omelet" Nico says as he opens the fridge and grabs a juice. "It might make you fall in love with him."

I shoot him a glare. "I'm not that easy."

"Oh, I know," he says with a wink. "But everyone has a weakness."

Vincenzo finally enters, freshly showered and now fully dressed in black jeans and a dark grey T-shirt.

His damp hair is slicked back, and of course, he looks like he just walked out of a Mafia movie. Dark. Dangerous. Unbothered.

He doesn't say a word to me as he passes, grabbing a cup of black coffee and taking a seat at the far end of the table.

I stare at him for a moment, hoping he'll at least acknowledge me.

Nothing.

I look away, biting my lip.

Riccardo slides a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me.

"Eat," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You'll need the energy. It's your full day here."

"Thanks," I whisper, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

Especially Nico, who is still watching me like I'm dessert.

Breakfast passes in a tension filled silence. Every time I look up, one of them is watching me. It's unnerving. It's thrilling. It's sickening.

And I kind of like it.

God. I need therapy.

After we eat, I stand up to take my plate to the sink and rinse it, but Riccardo stops me.

Don't worry, I'll do that," he says.

"No, it's fine," I say.

"No it isn't. You're a princess, my princess to be precise, and need to be treated as one" he says.

I blink twice.

Coming from Riccardo??

Woww.

What is up with these brothers??