*Isabella's POV*
After a quick shower, where I did my best to wash off the scent of them both, the smell of sex and sweat and something uniquely them, I got dressed and joined them downstairs. The air in the living room was thick with a post-sex haze, a strange mix of satisfaction and the same old tension that always simmered between them.
"Can we take you to dinner, sweetheart?" Jacob asked, his voice a low, hopeful rumble. He was lounging on one of the armchairs, looking far too relaxed for a man who's recently shot.
"Uhm..." I stuttered, my mind immediately jumping to the practicalities. Dinner in public? With both of them? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.
"I know this place..." Damien began, his voice all business, already scrolling through his phone like he was making a reservation.
"I'll choose a place," Jacob said, cutting him off, his eyes fixed on me with a challenging glint.
"You're in my city!" Damien countered, his voice rising slightly, a flicker of that old sibling rivalry sparking between them.
Oh, for fuck's sake. Fucking two-year-olds. I rolled my eyes as I stormed upstairs to my room, leaving them there still fucking arguing like kids. There it goes. They can't see eye to eye on a single fucking thing. They'll drive me nuts.
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on my door. "Can we come in?" both their voices said in unison. I sighed. They'd clearly teamed up.
"I guess," I said, my voice muffled by the pillow I was face-planted into.
The door opened, and they stepped inside. "Hi Sweets," Jacob said, his voice soft.
"Isabella, we're sorry," Damien said at the same time, his tone more formal, but just as sincere.
"Did we make you leave?" Jacob asked, a hint of genuine insecurity in his voice.
I turned over, propping myself up on my elbows to look at them. They stood there, like two scolded puppies, and I couldn't stay mad. "You're smart boys, what do you think?" I said, a small smile playing on my lips.
"Can we take you to dinner?" Damien asked again.
"Will you embarrass me and yourselves in public by fighting with each other?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. This was the real test.
"No, we're gonna be good boys," Jacob said, a mock-serious expression on his face.
"Really, we promise," Damien added, his gaze firm.
"Then guess I'm in," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. "We can go to the first place we all went together, it was lovely." I added, thinking of that quiet, intimate dinner.
"We'll take a private booth," I added with a wink, making Jacob laugh.
"I just love when you're in your kinky mood," he said.
"You love me anyway," I shot back. "Now get the fuck out, I need to get ready."
Once alone, I stood in front of my wardrobe and pulled out a simple, elegant black dress and a pair of killer heels to match. I went into the bathroom, forced my unmanageable curly hair into a bun, half up, half down, and did my make-up. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I felt a surge of confidence. Tonight, I wasn't just some girl caught between two brothers. I was the one in charge. And I was ready to play.
Of fucking course they couldn't keep their promise. The truce lasted about as long as it took for Tony to pull out into traffic. In the car, it started over some stupid, meaningless thing – music, of all things. By the time we reached the restaurant, they were still squabbling over nonsense, their bickering a low, irritating hum under my skin that was slowly fraying my last nerve.
The restaurant was lovely, but even the soft lighting and clinking of cutlery couldn't drown out their tension. They argued about the wine, the appetisers, the fucking way the waiter looked at me. It was exhausting. I was starting to regret agreeing to this.
Then, just as the main courses arrived, Jacob cleared his throat. "Sweetheart, I wanted to give you something," he said, his voice suddenly soft, cutting through Damien's lecture on the proper way to pair fish with wine. He pulled a small, dark velvet box from his jacket pocket. My heart did a little flip-flop. I didn't plan for what happened next, not for tonight at least. But when I saw what was in that gift box, something clicked inside me. It wasn't a gentle click; it was a loud, metallic snap, like a lock turning into place.
It was a necklace. A delicate, silver chain holding three small, interlocking hearts.
And that's when I realised we would never function in peace in this relationship of three. Something inside me snapped, a tight wire that had been stretched for weeks, and I went fucking nuts.
"Three hearts," I said, my voice dangerously quiet, staring at the glittering symbol of our fucked-up dynamic. "We can never be three hearts. Not with you two constantly at each other's throats." I looked up, my eyes burning with unshed tears, meeting their confused, concerned faces. "At first, it was funny, even flattering, I guess. But now... now I can't fucking stand it."
My voice started to shake, a tremor I couldn't control. I could tell from their sudden silence, from the way they both leaned forward, their earlier squabbling forgotten, that they were ashamed. "I care about you both," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I took a deep, shuddering breath, bracing myself for the next words, the ones that would shatter everything. "And that's why... I have to break up with you. Both of you."
The words hung in the air between us, stark and final. The low murmur of the restaurant, the clinking of glasses, it all faded into a dull roar. There was only the three of us, trapped in a bubble of my own making. They both stared at me with shock, their faces pale, their mouths slightly agape. For once, they were united. United in their utter, devastating disbelief.