Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Remi
“And here I thought the relationship with my dad was fucked up.”
Angelo laughs mirthlessly.
“‘Pure Spite.’ Your tattoo is starting to make more sense.” I grab his hand, examining his left index finger. I’ve never noticed, but it is a teensy bit crooked. “Not to mention your brother is a jerk. I’m sorry.”
“ C’est la vie. Isn’t that what you said?” He takes my hand into his, giving it a squeeze.
“But how did your dad get you back here, if you had all that dirt on him?” I wonder.
“Dirt on a dying man is worthless; he had nothing to lose. But even if I had exposed him, my father was one step ahead. He’d already bribed the dean to get me kicked out of school on bogus cheating allegations.
” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“And maybe I did want to stick it to my brother by becoming boss, if I’m being honest.”
“What happens with you and your brother now?”
“I don’t know. And I hate that answer.” Bringing our hands to his mouth, he presses a kiss to the top of mine. He flips my hand, examining it. “You read my palm, but what does yours say?”
Suddenly, this game isn’t nearly as fun when I’m on the vulnerable end of it.
“I’m stubborn. Determined. Ambitious. I wear rose colored glasses, sometimes to my detriment.” Things he already knows about me.
“You are the most optimistic woman I’ve ever met,” he agrees.
“Are you still deciding whether that’s a good or bad thing?” I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s an endearing thing.” He playfully flicks my nose with his crooked finger. “You say I have a photographer’s marking on my palm; do you have a musician’s?” Angelo wonders.
“This one,” I move my finger, tracing the line, “is the Mount of Apollo; it’s pretty well defined, suggesting I have a musical bent.”
“I think you have more than a bent; you’re a natural born star,” he tells me.
A grin stretches across my face. “Maybe one day.” I attempt to pull back my hand, but Angelo keeps it firmly in place.
“What does your heart line say?” he asks.
“I didn’t read your heart line,” I argue, my own heart skipping a beat.
“Read yours, and then you can read mine,” he challenges.
My cheeks flush as I trace my heart line.
I could sell him some bullshit, but I choose honesty.
“Mine is a long, prominently etched Love Line without breaks. Meaning I want a deep, lifetime connection. All or nothing.” Switching out my palm for his, he allows me to flip it over.
“Yours is a short Love Line.” I trace the etched line that stops abruptly.
“You like order and control versus getting caught up in the emotional intensity of a relationship; that’s why you keep your partners at arm’s length. ”
“Perhaps that was true, but only because I didn’t have enough joie de vivre.
I’m beginning to see the error of my ways.
” He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb.
“And what of this marking? We both have a similar one.” Dropping his hand, he points out the mark where the Heart Line and the Love Line intersect on both of our palms.
“I’m not sure,” I tell him. “Above my palmistry pay grade. And before you ask for a refund, all sales final.”
We’ve scooted closer to where we’re sharing the same breath. “I love being hustled by you,” he says.
“What if I’m not hustling you?” We’ve both been teetering on the edge, neither one of us willing to be completely vulnerable. I may get my heart broken, but how will I ever find out if I don’t jump? “All or nothing. I’m in, but I have to know that you are too,” I whisper.
There’s a knock on the door. “Boss. Is Remi ready for her swim lessons?”
“Give us a moment,” Angelo calls to Maks.
“I have dark moods,” he warns me.
“I’m well aware of your broody bastard streak,” I tease him.
“There are things about my business that you can’t know,” he continues.
“As long as your secrets don’t involve another woman, I’m okay with that,” I decide.
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re nosier than Nola.”
“I’ll try to be okay with that,” I amend.
“Do you want children?” Angelo asks.
“You’re going to hate this answer, but maybe? How about you?”
“I would have said under no circumstances.” Angelo’s voice is soft, his eyes never leaving mine. “But a little pickpocket has upended my world view.”
“I’m going to need a new nickname. After tomorrow’s heist, I’m going straight,” I inform him.
He gives me a dubious look. “Really?”
“I am! Well, I’ll still probably rob you, but that doesn’t count if I give your stuff back.”
His hand cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “Speaking of, I’m still owed my watch.”
“Excuse me, but I’ve been sort of busy here being politely kidnapped and then playing houseguest and now being?—”
“Mine,” he finishes for me. “I said you belong to me, Remi, and I meant it. All or nothing. What’s left of my cold heart is yours.”
“Such a flair for melodrama.” I lean in, pressing a kiss on his chest where his heart beats steadily.
He grabs my throat, forcing me to look at him.
“I’m not a good man.”
“You are, you just can’t see it,” I argue against his hold.
“Those rose colored glasses you warned me about; they still don’t work in my world.”
“Try them on; you could pull off the rose shade with your skin tone.” He could pull off any shade with his lovely olive skin tone, now that I think about it.
Totally unfair.
He presses his lips to mine with a growl before releasing me. “Go learn to swim.”
“I take it back; you’re a monster.” I huff.
Angelo’s hands move to his belt, working it out of the loops. He takes it in his hands, making it snap . “If that’s what you wish.”
“I’m going!” I shriek, and I’m up and running out the door. Maybe I’d be into it, but now isn’t the time to find out.
Remi
“Hey, Remi,” Alessandra calls, seated on the ledge of the deep end. Maks is lurking nearby with his arms crossed.
“Hey, Alessandra. Maks, I’ll save you the trouble.” Marching to the deep end, I toe the ledge while ignoring the pounding of my heart.
One deep breath— don’t overthink it —and I jump.
Working my way to the surface, I exhale and roll onto my back. My lower half begins to sink, but I inflate my lungs until they’re about to burst, and move them back to the top of the water.
Lying on a chair. Lying on a chair. Lying on a chair.
“She’s doing it!” Alessandra cries excitedly.
“I’m timing you,” Maks announces. “Float for thirty minutes, and then we can move to strokes.”
“What?” I shriek, causing my body to tense, and I begin to sink.
“You’re still sinking like a fucking stone,” he barks.