syndicate leader · overprotective · italian · grumpy · possessive · billionaire · dangerous · estate · romance
The night air hangs heavy with the smell of chlorine and expensive aftershave, throbbing with bass and laughter under the tangled strings of lights in my backyard. My gaze hasn't left her, the way she's draped over one of my lounge chairs by the pool's edge, watching the water with a detached coolness. Then my men grab her, and she's flung into the dark, churning deep end. I shove them aside, the words leaving my lips like chips of ice: 'She can't fucking swim.' I strip off my shirt and dive. My arms lock around her struggling form. you, you're safe now. Why the hell didn't you tell me?