3. Matteo #2
Plastering a polite smile on my face, I followed Francesca and her daughter inside the house. My body relaxed on a sigh when the door closed behind us, muffling the raucous noise from the children in the pool.
“Right this way.” Francesca guided me through several hallways until we reached a sitting room. “You can put the carrier down wherever.”
I set the car seat on the floor, peeking inside to make sure Serafina was still sleeping. Thank God, she was. I did not have the energy to deal with a cranky baby and suffer the judgment of the mafia wives while I struggled to calm her.
The teenage girl plopped onto a nearby couch, and I asked her, “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Nope.” She popped the P before pulling out her phone and mindlessly scrolling.
“Sofia,” Francesca hissed. “Show some respect.” She glanced at me nervously.
Straightening up with wide eyes, the girl dropped the phone to her lap. “Sorry. I’ll keep a good eye on her, Mr. Bellini.”
Not wanting to undermine her mother, I gave her a curt dip of my chin. “See that you do.”
We turned to leave when Enzo burst into the room, chest heaving, eyes wild.
The strong sense of déjà vu was chilling.
“What happened?”
My cousin’s eyes squeezed shut, and on a pained whisper, he uttered a single word. “Bianca.”
Blood running cold, I took off running in the direction of the pool. I shoved through the door so forcefully that it cracked off the wall, the sharp sound deafening in the silence of a room that had once been so loud I could barely hear myself think.
Half of those gathered turned to stare at me, and their grief-stricken faces had terror piercing my heart. The other half were gathered on the far edge of the pool, and even though I knew whatever scene they were witnessing had the power to tear my heart out, I forced my feet to move closer.
Like the Red Sea, they parted as I approached, revealing the sight of a soaking wet lifeguard bent over my unconscious four-year-old performing, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
From far away, what sounded like the scream of a wounded animal reached my ears as my knees hit the concrete. The rawness of my throat would suggest it came from me, but it felt like I was watching this scene from above, witnessing my daughter’s life slip away despite the efforts to save her.
I begged a god I didn’t believe in for mercy, if not for my soul then for my little girl’s. She didn’t deserve to be punished for my sins. She was innocent.
Both of my hands flew to my head, and I tugged on my hair.
This was all my fault. I was so busy trying to numb my own pain that I couldn’t be the father she needed.
A year ago, I would have been in that pool with her, letting her splash me in the face because it made her laugh.
Not only had I cost this precious girl her mother, but my selfishness may just very well cost my daughter her life.
My chest ached like I could feel every single one of the compressions the lifeguard administered.
When my prayers went unanswered, I decided to appeal to the one woman I hoped with all my might was somewhere up there acting as a guardian angel.
Allegra, please. I promise to do better if you send her back to me.
Within the span of the next heartbeat, Bianca’s tiny torso lurched with a gurgling cough before water spewed from her mouth like a geyser. Relief washed over me so hard that I almost passed out.
Thank you, Allegra.
Bianca began to cry, and I jolted into action, crawling across the space between us until I held her wet body against my chest.
“Papa.” She clutched at me.
“It’s okay, principessa ,” I murmured against her damp hair. “I’ve got you now.”
A feminine voice spoke nearby. “I take it you’re the one responsible for this little girl?”
Clearing my throat wasn’t enough to remove the emotion that colored my words. “Yes, I’m her father.”
“May I ask where you were while she was drowning at the bottom of the pool?”
Several gasps rang out, and my head whipped up at her accusatory tone. The woman may have saved my daughter’s life, but she was walking the fine line of disrespect.
But the sharp reprimand that sat poised on my tongue died there when my eyes landed on the stunning creature kneeling opposite me. Now was definitely not the time, but I couldn’t stop myself from drinking in the sight of her.
Big blue eyes that I could get lost in.
Thick, damp, golden hair that barely brushed the top of her shoulders.
Plump, pink lips that would look perfect wrapped around my cock.
A lean but muscular frame, featuring curves in all the right places.
And skin. So much fucking creamy skin on display in her two-piece lifeguard bathing suit.
Only one word came to mind when I stared at her: gorgeous.
Struck mute by her beauty, all I could do was stare as she continued to scold me over my negligent parenting.
“You’re lucky she has dark hair, or else I wouldn’t have even seen her down there.”
Shaking out of my stupor, my brows drew down. “What?”
“Do me a favor. When you get home, toss that suit. It almost got her killed.”
I peeked down at my daughter, scanning the aqua swimsuit she wore. Confused out of my mind, I asked, “What’s wrong with her suit?”
The lifeguard scoffed, rolling her pretty blue eyes. Gesturing toward the pool off to our right, she explained, “Take a look. It’s the same color as the water, which made her damn near invisible. You want colors that stand out in contrast. Hot pink, neon orange, red, or even black.”
“Uh.” I gripped the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Frowning, I remarked, “We have a pool at home, so I’m not really sure how this happened.”
“Of course you do. And let me guess, you always outfit her with little water wings or some other type of flotation device,” she challenged, head cocked to the side.
Temper flaring, I snapped, “So what if I do?”
“Think about it. You’re a little kid. Every time you jump into the water, you stay above the surface.
Parents think they’re keeping their kids safe, but instead, those floaties create a false sense of security.
Little ones need to understand the dangers of the pool, and the best way to avoid a situation like this ever happening to your daughter again is to invest in quality swim lessons. ”
She had several very valid points. Ones that had never crossed my mind before today’s incident.
“I’m in your debt, Miss . . .”
Before she could offer me her name, those around us uttered in unison, “Debts must always be paid.”
That was the Bellini Family motto. If you incurred a debt, you were forced to repay it. No exceptions. Ever.
The young woman’s eyes scanned the crowd, likely wondering if she’d found herself in the middle of a cult.
And she wouldn’t be far off in that thinking.
Like a cult, the mafia was an organization that relied heavily on indoctrination, featuring a strong leader.
Not everyone was born into it; some joined voluntarily.
And once you found yourself on the inside, it was damn near impossible to leave.
Realizing that she was in over her head, she stammered, “R-reynolds.” Then she stiffened, correcting, “D’Amico.” Her eyes slammed shut, and she muttered something unintelligible under her breath.
Cecila D’Amico was a Bellini by blood, a distant cousin of my father’s, and if memory served, she had a daughter in her early twenties.
Though I’d never met the girl, her Italian ancestry was absolute.
Even without the slip of tongue, I would never have believed this golden-haired goddess was who she claimed to be.
No, she wasn’t one of us. If she were, she would never have dressed me down so publicly. That, I knew with total certainty.
Sirens sounded in the distance right before EMTs made their way onto the pool deck. While I was distracted, my focus on Bianca, the little liar saw fit to escape. But as I walked alongside the gurney headed for the ambulance, I paused to relay an order to Enzo.
“Get me everything you can on the lifeguard.”