Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I… I didn’t know that.” What is happening here? Who the hell is this man? This mobster who recites his grandmother’s poetry from memory, who reminisces about his grandfather, who knows the blooming patterns of wisteria, who fucks me in public while maintaining eye contact with his enemy?
My brain starts spinning wildly inappropriate scenarios. Maybe he’s not really a mobster. Maybe this is all an elaborate act. Maybe he’s undercover FBI or something, playing a role. Maybe he’ll fall in love with me and whisk me away from all this. Maybe I’m his Pretty Woman and he’s my Richard Gere and we’ll end up on a fire escape somewhere while I overcome my fear of heights.
Jesus Christ, Emmaleen, get a grip. This isn’t a rom-com. This is real life, and in real life, men like Giovanni Bavga don’t fall in love with women like me. They use them, discard them, and move on.
I’m here for one reason only: $31,750. That’s the prize at the end of this fucked-up rainbow. That’s what I need to focus on. Not the poetry, not the sex, not the way his hands feel on my skin.
Just the money.
Once I get that money, I’m gone. So gone. I’ll leave Pennsylvania and never look back. Never think about Cleveland again. Never be at anyone’s mercy again. I’ll go to Florida or California or fucking Alaska—somewhere warm or interesting or just far away from all of this.
I can handle being his plaything for a week. I can talk dirty for him, let him boss me around, be whatever fantasy he’s projecting onto me. I can even enjoy the sex—might as well, right? But I can’t forget what this is. A transaction. A business arrangement with a very specific end date.
Six more days. That’s it. Six more days of Giovanni Bavga, and then I’m free. Twenty-one days until homelessness. Five demerits left. $31,750 on the line.
“You’re thinking very loudly,” Giovanni murmurs against my ear, his breath warm on my skin.
I force a smile. “Just… enjoying the view.”
He hums noncommittally, his fingers still tracing intricate, lazy patterns on my thigh, each touch sending small electrical currents through my oversensitive skin. Then, without warning or preamble, he’s standing up—taking me with him in one fluid motion as though I weigh nothing at all. My bare feet find the cool concrete floor of the cabana, the chill a stark contrast to the heat still radiating between us as he casually shoves his dick back inside his trunks with practiced efficiency.
Come is spilling down my thighs once again, warm and viscous against my skin, a physical reminder of what just happened between us. Just as suddenly as he stood, he picks me back up and starts walking with purpose, his stride confident and unhurried.
I hook my legs around him out of pure instinct, wrapping them securely around his waist, but I quickly realize I’m in no danger of falling. He’s got his large hands firmly cupped under my ass, holding me close to his body with an effortless strength that makes my breath catch.
“What are we doing?” I ask, my words coming out embarrassingly shaky and breathless, betraying the lingering effect he has on me. My heart hammers against my ribs as he carries me away from the cabana, his steps deliberate on the stone pathway.
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.”