Chapter 2- The Water god

My first day at the company had been nothing short of chaotic. From the endless introductions to the overload of tasks, I barely had a moment to breathe. Everyone in the building looked like they’d just stepped off a runway—classy, sophisticated, and impossibly intimidating. If I hadn’t dressed to impress, I would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb.

And the women? They looked more like supermodels than architects. It was like the firm handpicked its staff based on appearances.

Angelo, Mr De Vito's assistant, walked me through everything. The man could talk a mile a minute, but his warnings stuck with me. “Mr. De Vito is a perfectionist,” he’d say. “He doesn’t tolerate mistakes. One misstep and you’re out. Keep your head down and your work flawless.”

Great. Just what I needed—a boss with a reputation for being a ruthless, grumpy old man. Even his office screamed power and intimidation, with its cold perfection and domineering energy. I’d never even met him, but I already knew to steer clear.

When Matteo pulled the car up to the mansion, I was half-dead from exhaustion. The weight of the files Angelo handed me made my arms ache as I climbed out.

“Good night, Matteo,” I murmured before heading inside.

“Miss Carter?” I called into the silent house for the maid, No answer.

Strange. Where did she go?

Shrugging it off, I made my way upstairs, heading straight to my room. I tossed the documents onto the bed and threw my jacket next to them. My shoulders groaned in protest as I stretched, trying to ease the stiffness.

“I need a swim,” I muttered to myself. Swimming has always been my escape, my way of decompressing. Right now, I needed it more than ever.

Reluctantly, I peeled myself off the bed and headed to my closet. After discarding my work clothes, I slipped into a sleek black bikini and threw a robe over it. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, but the thought of cool water against my skin was enough to keep me moving.

The house was eerily quiet as I navigated the hallways. “The pool is this way… right?” I murmured, taking a tentative turn.

The faint glow of blue light spilled into the corridor, and I smiled. Finally! I slid the door open and stepped outside.

The pool shimmered under the moonlight, the water calling to me. But just as I reached for the tie of my robe, a soft splash echoed through the air.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned toward the water, my breath hitching as a figure emerged from the depths.

Oh. My. God.

The world around me seemed to stop as the man surfaced, water cascading off his chiseled body like some mythical sea god.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His black and gray hair clung to his face, the droplets tracing every perfect angle of his jaw. His lips—full, firm, and utterly sinful—parted slightly as he ran a hand through his wet hair, sending rivulets of water down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

And those muscles… sweet Jesus. Each ripple and curve looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. His broad shoulders, his defined arms, and that tantalizing V that disappeared beneath the waistband of his swim trunks—every inch of him screamed power and danger.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

He dove back into the water, only to resurface moments later, droplets clinging to his skin like diamonds. And then his eyes locked onto mine.

I was caught.

His gaze was piercing—icy blue, like a winter storm. It felt as though he could see right through me, stripping me bare without even trying.

But the spell was broken when his sharp, commanding voice cut through the air.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

His tone was low and menacing, each word dripping with authority. My heart pounded, not in fear, but in something far more dangerous.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

He climbed out of the pool, and my eyes betrayed me, trailing down his dripping form. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, the water glistening on his bronzed skin.

And then my gaze dipped lower.

Oh. My. God.

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I forced my eyes back up, only to meet his furious glare.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to slice through steel. “Who are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?”

I took a shaky breath, willing myself to speak. “I… I’m Emily Ross,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed, raking over me like I was an unwelcome intruder. “Emily Ross,” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. “The junior architect?”

I nodded, unsure what else to do.

His expression darkened, a mix of irritation and something else I couldn’t quite place. “You’re the one they sent to work with me?”

Wait. Work with him?

Realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn’t just some random guy enjoying a late-night swim. This was him.

“Y-You’re Mr. De Vito?” I stammered, my voice cracking.

His lips twisted into a humorless smirk. “What? Were you expecting someone else?”

Yes. Yes, I was. I’d imagined an older man—graying, balding, maybe with a potbelly. Not… this. Not a man who looked like sin incarnate.

He took a step closer, his presence suffocating. “Let me make one thing clear, Miss Ross. You’re here to work, not to wander around my home. If I catch you pulling a stunt like this again, you’ll regret it.”

I swallowed hard, nodding mutely.

He stared at me for a moment longer, his gaze lingering in a way that made my skin tingle. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

As I watched him disappear into the house, one thought echoed in my mind.

I’m screwed.

Not because of his temper. Not because of his rules.

But because Lorenzo De Vito was a man I wanted.

And I had no doubt—this was going to be the longest, most tempting year of my life.