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Frowning, I nod. “Will she be okay?” I ask as we reach the terrace. The sun is hanging high in the sky, and I love the feel of it on my skin. It’s like a toasty blanket wrapping around me.
Julian shrugs. “I don’t know. Markus is one of my best men. I trust him with my life, and with you, but I don’t know his dealings with women, so I can’t tell you. The girl should be grateful though, there are worse people that could’ve bought her.”
He’s not lying. After the auction, I realized that I could’ve ended up in the hands of someone far worse than Julian. Thus far has been okay, but we aren’t married yet, and I’m still not sure if what my father said was true. I want to ask him, but I can’t do that without giving away the key I stashed.
“It would be nice to have a friend,” I say. There is a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses on the table where lunch will be served.
“Friends are overrated,” he replies dryly, pouring each of us a glass of lemonade from the frosty pitcher before handing me one. “Plus, it seems like you made a friend with Marie.”
Immediately, I feel bad for having said that. Holding the glass, I reply, “I do have Marie, and I love spending time with her, but she’s working most of the day and is only allowed to see me during lunch. It would be nice to have another friend or at least be allowed to see Marie more.”
Julian shakes his head, and a breathtaking smile overtakes his face. “So needy.”
We each take a drink, and the lemonade slides down my throat, cooling my insides. Julian sets his glass on the table, and I do the same.
“Since you already pointed that out, I have another question.”
“Of course, you do.”
“Have you figured out who tried to kill me?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer. We ran into a dead-end, but you don’t have to worry. Something like that won’t happen again.”
“I still don’t understand why someone would want me dead. I’ve never done anything to anyone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says like it’s no big deal at all. “Come, I want to show you the pool.” He grabs my hand, and it’s like I’ve put my fingers into an electrical outlet. Heat zings up my arm, rippling through my body, settling deep in my core. I can feel moisture build with each of my steps, memories of what he did to me the other night, how he gave me a massage, and then made me come with his tongue.
Forcing those memories out of my head, I concentrate on the here and now. Walking down the stone steps from the terrace, the pool comes into view.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” I whisper in awe, drinking it all in. The space is magnificent, and the kidney-shaped pool is so clear, you can see your reflection in the water.
Turning to him, I can’t help but slowly drag my gaze up to his face, my eyes lingering on his chiseled six-pack that I kinda want to touch.
“Have you gone swimming a lot?”
“Not enough, not worth the cost of the house, that’s for sure.” Another smile that steals the air from my lungs appears, and I need to get into the water to cool off because something is happening to me. I don’t feel like myself.
“Do you think the water is cold?” I ask, moving to sit at the edge of the pool, so I can dangle my feet in the water first.
“No, the pool is heated.”
Of course, it’s heated.
Tipping my toes into the water, I almost sigh at the perfect temperature. It’s not too cold or too warm, simply perfect. Feeling Julian’s gaze on me, I peer over my shoulder, shielding my eyes from the sun, so I can look up at him.
“Put your feet in. The water feels amazing.”
Julian stares at me like a puzzle he can’t find the missing piece to. Then he surprises the hell out of me by jumping into the water, making a huge splash in the process. Water flies everywhere, and I choose then to dip fully into the pool. Sliding off the edge, I sink into the water, shivering only slightly, the lower I submerge myself, the more weightless I feel.
The pool is much deeper than I anticipated, and my fingers grip onto the edge of the pool to stay afloat. When Julian’s head pops up from out of the water, I can’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by how he looks in this moment.
His hair seems black now that it’s wet. Droplets of water run down his perfectly-shaped face, and I have the urge to trace the tracks of those drops, to run my fingers along his cheek and down his jawline. He’s like a painting I want to bring to life. Shaking his head, he pelts me with water droplets, and I use my hand to shield my eyes, so I don’t get any water in them.
