Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Remi
“Yes, the man saved your life, but that doesn’t mean we can trust him,” I explain to Nola as we stroll along the property. Angelo isn’t back from doing whatever it is a mob boss does. Based on my limited mobster knowledge, I assume kneecaps are involved.
“I’m working a job for him, and things need to remain strictly business,” I declare.
No touching. No flirting. No kissing. And especially no coming on the barrel of his gun.
My entire body warms at the memory, but I continue, “If I get my heart involved, he’ll break it. And yours too. We have to be smart. Do the job and get out; eyes on the prize.”
Nola lets her feelings about my speech be known by taking a number two.
She covers the evidence with dirt, and we return to the house, passing the pool. “And no swimming without human supervision, you hear me?”
She meows , but I can’t interpret.
We return inside, and I unhook her harness and leash.
“I’ve never seen a cat walk on a leash,” Alessandra comments from behind the kitchen counter.
“You’re not a cat, she wasn’t talking about you,” I tell Nola.
Nola does what I imagine is her version of storming out of the room.
“What a queen,” Alessandra says.
“She certainly thinks so. What are you doing?” I ask, walking around the island to join her. “Why are you painting handcuffs?”
She grins, moving the airbrush over a link in the chains. “Fabien’s getting out of prison soon, and I’m playing around with welcome home cake ideas.”
“That’s a cake?” I lean over, taking a closer look.
“Yep. Chocolate cake with chocolate ganache moulded into the shape of handcuffs, covered with silver fondant,” she explains. “It’s either going to be really funny, or way too soon to make jokes.”
“Well, however it’s received, you’re insanely talented,” I tell her.
Her cheeks flush. “Nah, I’ve just got too much time on my hands and have fallen down the rabbit hole of realistic cake videos.”
I click my tongue. “As my mawmaw always said, it’s rude to refuse a gift. And a compliment is a gift.” I nod to her edible artwork. “This is talent.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
An obnoxious whizzing sound has both of us glancing out the window. Angelo Calvani is expertly using a power tool, attaching what looks like a floating ramp in the deep end of the pool. And weirdly, it’s doing something to my ovaries.
“I might have said those things to Angelo, hoping you’d overhear; to punish my brother,” she says, and I snap out of it. “Not saying they aren’t all true—he did have a situationship with Laurie—but maybe you could give him the benefit of the doubt.”
I shake my head. “I’m glad you said that. Besides, your brother and I aren’t anything?—”
“He’s building your ca—not a cat,” Alessandra self-corrects. “He’s building Nola a ramp in our pool. Looks like something to me.”
With determination, I march to the pool, with Nola trotting along beside me. Glancing down at my bare knees, I remind myself how I enjoy walking. Do the job, and then walk off into the sunset; screw those turkey trot runners.
Before I can get my life jacket zipped, Nola’s already in the pool.
Ever curious, she swims over to the floating ramp, where Angelo appears, dressed in swim trunks.
He’s all hard lines and beautiful olive skin and dark hair and a handsome yet sort of scary-looking face… Oh, alright, so it is a nice view.
“Come on, you can do it.” Angelo coaxes Nola by placing a treat on the top rung.
Nola uses her claws on the ramp’s material to leverage herself up and out of the pool, nibbling the treat.
“I based the design off a dog ramp, but modified it using coarse jute material; it gives Nola something to latch her claws onto,” he tells me.
“You designed it? That’s really cool,” I say with a grin before I catch myself. “Thank you, Mr. Calvani.” I enter the shallow end, taking a seat on the top step.
He walks off without a word.
“Um, you’re welcome?”
Nola jumps back into the water, and I watch with envy as she frolics in the pool.
Classical music begins playing on the speakers as Angelo returns, entering the pool on the other side of the railing.
Moving in front of me, he extends his large hand.
I just look at it.
He reaches forward, unzipping my life jacket as my heart threatens to implode. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not that you can’t swim; it’s that panic takes over, making you think you can’t swim. You have to learn to control this fear, with no crutch,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I hate that you know my weakness,” I tell him quietly.
“You know mine, so we’re even.”
“No, I don’t,” I argue.
“Life vest off.” Not moving fast enough for Angelo’s liking—fine, so I’m not moving at all—he rips the vest off me.
I’m scooped up into his arms, and I squeal, wrapping my arms around his neck for dear life. “Don’t let go,” I beg as he wades us into deeper water.
“I’m not letting go,” he promises. “I want you to practice feeling at ease in the water.”
“I’m being held by you, Mr. Calvani. Nothing about that conjures feelings of ‘at ease,’” I inform him.
“Angelo. I want you to call me Angelo,” he tells me impatiently.
I shake my head. “We are strictly business from hereon out.”
“Are we now?” he challenges, glancing down to where my bikini-covered breasts are plastered to his bare chest.
“Kneecaps,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing.” On a sigh, I settle into the strong feel of Angelo’s arms, my head resting against his chest. Why does the man have to smell so damn good allllll the time? My eyes flutter closed, only to snap open when the water rises above my breasts. “Not too deep!”
“I’ll decide how deep you can take it.”
“Oh my God, you did not just say that.” I groan, my cheeks flushing.
His body vibrates with laughter.
I look up at him. “You really should smile more; it does wonders for your resting menace face. And why is that look menacing on a man, but on a woman, it’s ‘resting bitch face?’”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Angelo says dryly.
“Because all you think about is business,” I decide.
“I would say that used to be true, until a little butterfly of a pickpocket fluttered into my life. And before you even think about it, I don’t have any valuables on my possession.”
“Uh-hum!” I clear my throat.
“Excluding you, of course.”
“Better.”
I look at him.
He looks at me.
I look at his mouth.
God, why did I look at his mouth?
My tongue darts out, wetting my lips.
“Something on your mind, Remi?” He zeros in on my mouth.
“Nope. Not a thing,” I blurt out.
“Remembering how great of a ‘dancer’ I am?” His lips inch closer to mine.
“Actually, I was thinking of the nice?—”
“View?”
“Tattoo.” I practically tattoo the word onto his lips, we’re so close.
“Boss, we have the venue information,” Maks calls, breaking up this little…whatever the hell this was.
My attempt at hopping out of Angelo’s arms is quickly thwarted; his strong arms simply won’t let me. “Set everything up in the study,” he orders.
“Yes, boss.” Maks scurries inside.
“You’re in over your head,” Angelo tells me, squeezing his arms tight.
“Are we still talking about the water?”
His lips lift at the corners as he walks us to the shallow end. “Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll discuss our business deal.”
He places me on my feet, and I cross my arms, my feeble attempt to hide my pebbled nipples. “Sounds good, Mr. Calvani.”
Business deal. Because we’re strictly business.
I go to step out of the pool, when I’m suddenly being hoisted over Angelo’s shoulder. “Ahh! What are you doing?”
Angelo silently carries me inside the pool house, closing and locking the door. The man sits while shuffling me like a deck of playing cards; I’m now positioned on his lap, face down.
A palm connects with my right ass cheek, with a wet and loud whap.
“Oww!”
“What is my name, Remi?”
“Mr. Calvani?”
Whap .
“Let’s try again. My name is?—”
“Mr. Calvani!”
Whap .
“Mr. Calvani, you cannot just spank a grown-ass woman!” I cry.
Whap
“Mr. Calvani!”
Whap
“You like my heavy-handed approach, don’t you, Remi?”
Whap .
“I don’t!”
Or do I? Because I’m wet, and I can’t blame the pool…
Whap .
That last swat was more than a love tap, and tears sting my eyes as I concede defeat. “Angelo, stop.”
“Better.” His fingers knead my throbbing ass cheek while I attempt to ignore his massive erection pressing into my stomach.
Except I can’t ignore his massive erection, because who could? Not that I’m some cock expert; I’ve only had sex with two men, and neither was anything to write home about. But this feels like I would have to write a very lengthy novel of a letter. Granted, I don’t have anyone to write home to…
“Remi?”
“Yes?”
“Stop thinking.” His finger slips inside my bikini bottom, trailing along my pussy lips.
“What happened to your rules?” I gasp. “Your family’s rules?”
My clit receives a little warning flick. “As you said, I make the rules.”
“Oh.” A needy sound escapes my mouth as Angelo slips his finger inside me.
He groans. “A first; I’ve never been jealous of my gun before.”
“What?” I try to follow, but it’s extremely difficult because he’s now slipped a second finger inside me.
“You came on my gun. I want you to do that on every part of me.” He moves those fingers in and out with an embarrassingly wet sound . “On my tongue.” In and out. “On my cock.” In and out. “But we’ll start with my fingers.”
“That heavy-handed approach.” I try to come off as cool, but the pitch of my voice is all wrong. Too high. Too breathless.
His dark laughter tickles my spine, settling between my legs. “You’re dripping all over my heavy hand. Turn your face to the side; I want to watch you fall apart.”
My skin feels electric, buzzing with anticipation as I do as I’m told.
“Good girl.” Our eyes lock, his heavy with desire as he begins to fuck me in earnest with his fingers.
“Angelo.” I whimper, my body trembling.
“Mmm. Just like that, Remi,” he murmurs, his voice thick and deep. “God, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight. I can’t wait for this greedy little pussy to strangle my cock.”
“Oh, yes.” It comes out as a soft whimper, my nails digging into the fabric of the couch.
Waves of pleasure course through my body as Angelo hits the same deep spot over and over.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s a warning bell going off, reminding me this is a mistake.
But with Angelo Calvani playing my pussy like a classical trained pianist, it’s hard to think of anything else.
Heat shoots up my spine. My thighs. My stomach. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire. My hips thrust in vain, wanting Angelo to move faster, but he keeps the same excruciatingly slow pace.
He clicks his tongue. “I decide when you come, Remi. And if I decide I’m going to finger you all night, then that’s what will happen.” His cock feels like a steel rod beneath my pelvis. “Have you touched yourself since you came for me on my gun?”
“No,” I moan.
“Good girl. While you’re my houseguest, I will take care of this needy little pussy. No one else.”
“Yes,” I whimper, too far gone to think my answer through.
“That’s right.” His hum of approval goes straight to my clit. “Show me how pretty you look when I make you come.”
A strangled cry fills the room, and I realize that sound is coming from me. My hips buck wildly as I orgasm.
Angelo waits until my body stills, and I’m shuffled again, this time seated on his lap.
“Mmm.” A big, dreamy smile on my face, my cheek finds a comfy nesting spot against the crook of his neck. Angelo pets my hair, and I murmur, “It’s my turn for firsts.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve never been jealous of my cat before.” I snuggle in closer, bumping his hand with my head.
His chest vibrates with laughter as he resumes petting me.
“Mr. Calvani,” a voice comes through the security system phone, and I startle.
Angelo reaches across the table beside us, pressing a button. “Yes?”
“Laurie Kole is at the gate.”