Page 75 of Stolen Mafia Vows
Olivia rolls her eyes as if bored with the conversation. “Jeez, that is so last century. Do you honestly think I need their money?”
She is starting to grate on my nerves every time she opens her mouth, and I wonder if she has always been a spoiled brat, or if something bad happened to her one time. It also feels awkward having to peer down at her in the water with the sunlight rippling across the surface. I’d feel a whole lot more comfortable if we could speak face to face; I’d at least get an idea of her body language, although she probably practices that in front of the mirror too.
“Are we done here?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow momentarily. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”
“Will you get out of the pool then?”
She wrinkles her nose and peers over my shoulder as if pondering the question. “No, I don’t want to.” Without warning, she grabs my right ankle and pulls me towards the edge of the pool.
Caught unawares, I lose my balance and over-compensate for my leg being pulled out from under me by leaning forward, the momentum carrying me face-forward into the water. I hit the surface with a dull splash, eyes and mouth wide open, arms flailing.
As always, when entering the water unexpectedly, I lose all sense of time and place and direction. My nostrils sting, my mouth closes, and the hope that I’ll instinctively find my way to the surface and to the oxygen that my body needs, disappears when my limbs keep clawing and I remain underwater. I lash out with my feet trying to propel myself upwards, but this is the deep end of the pool, and I’m surrounded by nothing but water.
I can swim. My dad taught me to swim when I was a little girl, but at this moment I feel powerless, everything I ever learned evaporating beneath the instinct to survive. I feel my silent grunts of exertion building up in my throat as I continue to flail, and then, when I open my eyes and see the surface up above me, I hit what feels like a brick wall, and I’m pushed back down.
Panic sets in. Sure, I understand that panicking is the worst thing that I can do in this situation but try telling that to my brain because I’m in full-on fight mode.
My fists hit the wall, and I try using it to project myself upwards. But something solid is still pushing against my head,keeping me down, and I’m dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and I refuse to believe that this is where I die.
Then, suddenly, the pressure on my head is gone, and I burst through the water’s surface, and breathing feels like an actual miracle. I gasp for air, hearing the animal sound of my own breaths and giving zero fucks about it. I cling to the edge of the pool, swiping water from my eyes, and pushing my hair away from my face while I slowly ground myself.
Then two slender tanned legs appear in front of me creating a puddle of water on the turquoise tiles.
“You really should work on your technique, Emily.” I recognize the voice even through the muffling water in my ears. It’s Olivia.
Before I can respond, a white swimsuit lands with a wet thwack on the floor, and Olivia walks away, naked. I watch, fascinated and appalled, as she reclines on a sun lounger with her eyes closed.
The bodyguard is still standing in the same position he was when I was yanked into the water, eyes fixed straight ahead as if afraid that Olivia will accuse him of ogling her. He doesn’t offer me a helping hand, so I haul myself out of the pool, dragging myself to a standing position, my clothes stuck to my body and creating a puddle around my feet.
With my lungs full, I can think more clearly, and my first thought is that I didn’t hit a brick wall, I hit Olivia’s hands. Olivia held me underwater. She tried to drown me, and the knowledge unleashes a monster-load of anger inside my chest.
I march around the pool towards the sun lounger. My feet slip on the wet tiles causing me to windmill my arms, and totally destroying the effect I was going for, but I push on anyway, andthe bodyguard doesn’t stop me. Maybe he gets his kicks from watching women fight. Who knows?
“Why did you do that?” There’s a squeak in my voice that fuels my anger towards this woman, with her long slender limbs and her taut stomach muscles, and her brazen self-confidence.
“Do what?” She squints at me and waves her hand slightly to my left. “Move that way, you’re blocking the sunlight.”
I shuffle left before I can stop myself, trying—and failing—to keep my eyes on her face rather than her naked body. “You tried to drown me.”
She tilts her head sideways as if I’m a puppy chasing its own tail. “Emily if I wanted to drown you, you wouldn’t be standing there now dripping onto the floor and spoiling my view.”
Ugh! This woman is so infuriating, I fight the urge to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her.
“What do you want, Olivia?”
“I want you to sit down so that I can work on my tan.”
And like a fool, I sit down on the sun lounger behind me. Olivia nods once, rests her head back, and closes her eyes, dismissing me from the conversation. From her perfect day. From life.
I try a different tactic. “Tell me what you want, and I can help you get it.”
“I don’t need your help.” She doesn’t even open her eyes.
Man, I wish I could stop looking at her nakedness, because she’s using it as a distraction, and I’m allowing it to work. I’mgiving her that power over me, which is exactly what she wants.
“I know you’re staring at me,” she says, and I realize that she has been watching me the whole time. My face grows so hot I can almost feel it sizzling. “Do you want a piece of me?”
