Chapter 20 Emmaleen #2
Then, without warning, I’m flying through the air!
The world spins around me in a disorienting blur before I hit the pool water with a shocked gasp, the cool liquid crashing against my heated skin as I sink beneath the surface.
The contrast between the warm evening air and the chilly water sends a jolt through my system, washing away the sticky come on my legs.
He threw me in the pool!
I come up for air with a splutter, wiping the stinging water from my eyes just in time to see Giovanni’s powerful form arcing through the air before he crashes into the water next to me, sending waves rippling outward.
He surfaces with a rare, uninhibited laugh that transforms his usually severe features into something almost boyish.
He splashes me playfully, his large hands creating miniature tsunamis as he grabs at me in the water, his fingers finding purchase on my waist as he pulls me to him. The buoyancy of the water makes me feel weightless against his solid frame.
“What the hell was that for?” I ask, unable to contain my own laughter despite the sudden dunking.
“To get your mind back on me,” he says while pulling me through the water over to the edge of the pool where there’s a little waterfall cascading over smooth stones.
We duck under it, and he settles himself on a submerged ledge, pulling me into his lap once again as the falling water creates a curtain of privacy around us.
I push wet strands of hair from my face so I can see him properly. “In what fucking world do you think I’m living in that my mind is not on you? You’re the only person here, Giovanni.”
Shit. I just said that out loud. To his face. While half-naked in his pool, with his DNA still inside me.
The words hang in the humid air between us, uncomfortably sincere. Giovanni’s eyes widen slightly—the barest flicker of surprise before his expression settles into something unreadable. His mouth opens to respond, and I brace myself for whatever’s coming next.
But before he can speak, the waterfall curtain parts like a theatrical reveal, and Rico’s face appears in the gap. Water cascades around his shoulders as he ducks under, invading our private alcove with the casual entitlement of someone who’s never heard the word “no.”
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Rico’s voice is velvet-wrapped gravel, his New York accent thicker than Giovanni’s more polished tones. “You two lovebirds hiding from the party?”
All the playfulness evaporates from Giovanni’s body in an instant. His muscles go rigid against mine, his arm tightening around my waist with bruising intensity. The transformation is startling—one second he’s almost human; the next, he’s a loaded weapon.
“Get out.” Giovanni’s voice is flat, deadly. The words don’t even sound like a threat—more like a simple statement of fact.
I look over my shoulder at Rico as his gaze slides over my body, lingering on my nipples pressing up against the wet T-shirt. I cross my arms over my chest instinctively, which only makes him smile wider.
“You didn’t introduce us properly earlier,” Rico says, extending a hand toward me. “I’m Rico LaRiccia. Giovanni’s favorite cousin.”
“No one cares, Rico,” Giovanni says, his voice a controlled burn. “Get out. Go find yourself a whore.”
“Well,” he says, still smiling at me like prey.
“That’s funny.” He looks at Giovanni now.
“Because that’s what you called her earlier.
Your whore. But she doesn’t look like a whore to me.
She looks like…” His attention returns to me once again.
“A girlfriend.” Rico’s smile doesn’t falter as he stares at me, but something dangerous flickers in his eyes.
“Is she your girlfriend, Giovanni? Your one true love?”
Instead of getting angry, Giovanni relaxes. His hands start exploring my hips, then they slide up inside my shirt to fondle my tits. “Well…” Giovanni says, “I guess for six more days she is. I bought her for the week. We’re playing a game.”
I’m surprised he admitted this, but what can I say? It’s true.
“I like games,” Rico says, sliding up behind me. Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders, his hips pressing into my back. His hard-on very evident.
Giovanni pushes him back. “If you want her, you can buy her next week. Right now, she’s mine. So fuck off.”
His words start out amicable enough, but his tone shifts at the end. The fuck-off part comes out low and threatening.
Rico backs off, hands up in the air. “Fine. Just make sure you give me her number when you’re done, okay? I’m definitely gonna hit that shit.” Suddenly, his hand reaches out, his fingers brushing up against my cheek. “I’ll buy you for the whole month.”
This time Giovanni reacts by standing up with such force that I’m thrown off him, my body lurching sideways as I struggle to regain my balance.
The sudden movement knocks the breath from my lungs, and before I can fully right myself, the two men are chest to chest, their bodies like stone walls colliding.
Giovanni’s face transforms, all pretense of civility evaporating as he growls directly into Rico’s face, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my skin prickle with warning.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to, Rico, but you’re here as a guest and I suggest you fucking remember that.”
My heart slams against my chest as the standoff goes silent.
I don’t know much about the history between these two cousins, but I do know exactly who and what they are. Men who solve problems with violence. Men who take what they want. Men whose family businesses operate outside the boundaries of law. And it’s painfully clear they do not like each other.
How do mobsters settle disputes over a whore?
Fists? Swords at dawn? A duel?
Rico breaks, smiling. His hands in the air. “Fine. You don’t wanna share. I’ll forget I ever saw her. Fuck. You’re so touchy, Giovanni. Grow up, will ya?”
And then he ducks under the waterfall, disappearing as quickly as he came.