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)
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.
21
Rico disappears through the waterfall, but his presence lingers like a stain. I remain standing, calculating angles and possibilities while my blood cools from boiling to merely simmering. Five fucking years of silence, and now this?
This isn’t about business. This is personal. The question is why now, why here, after five years of peace?
He manufactured this entire scenario, used the family emergency protocol to draw me here, knowing I’d have no choice but to respond.
But for what?
I peer through a gap in the falling water, scanning the perimeter of the pool, counting exits and cataloging faces. Four of Rico’s men by the bar. Two more by the gate. Dom and Ricky nowhere in sight. Not ideal.