Page 59 of The Enforcer

“Buongiorno, sorella,” Nicola calls.

I move in front of him to block his view of her even as I squint, desperate to see her nakedness again. I dreamed about her all last night.

“What’s going on?” she asks warily.

“We’re going on a little trip.”

Zoe

“Now, this is what I’m talking about,” I say with a smile on my face.

Nicola has a small yacht. I think. I don’t know shit about boats, and I don’t care. But I am lying on the deck of his boat in a yellow bikini I found in my suitcase, and I am loving life. The sun is warming my skin. The sea is misting over my body. This ride almost makes the more than two hundred steps I just trudged down worth all the effort. I mean, this is some luxury vacation or an early 2000’s rap video type of shit, and I see now that this is the life to which I deserve to become accustomed.

I can hear my mother in my head telling me maybe I could find a man who could give me this life if I worked less or was less ‘free’ — the word she uses because ‘kinky’ gives her hives — but I drown her out. Well, Nicola drowns her out by honking the boat’s horn, and I thank him for that. Because my mother is wrong: I deserve this life on my terms.

Alfonso clears his throat.

I roll my head to the left and pull my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose to look at him.

His sunglasses are still firmly on his face, but I can tell where he’s looking. At me.

First of all, how could he not be? This yellow bikini is my favorite for a reason. It covers the best bits, but barely; that’s not its job. The job of this bikini is to remind everyone who sees it that the person wearing it is the baddest bitch with the best ass. I know because I’ve lost time staring at myself in the mirror while wearing this suit. Alfonso is experiencing the power of this bikini under the best circumstances. The sunscreen, seawater, and a hint of sweat have made every inch of my skin shine.

And the other way I know that he’s giving me all of his attention is by the lovely hard girth of him down one of the legs of his shorts. I lick my lips, and he groans.

“We’ll be arriving soon,” he tells me.

“How soon?”

He turns and looks over his shoulder toward the shore.

Not to be pervy, but I take that moment to enjoy the way his t-shirt stretches over his right shoulder and chest. I lick my lips again.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says before turning back to me. “Longer if the queue at the pier is backed up.”

“Oh,” I say, pushing my glasses back onto my face. “That’s plenty of time. Come get me when you’re close.” I pull my glasses down again and wink at him. “I mean when we’re closer.”

He grunts, and I smile before leaning back onto my seat. I close my eyes and get comfortable again.

But Alfonso doesn’t leave.

The yacht’s deck has a sunken area with soft, reclining very fancy, cushioned seats. I feel the seat next to me shift when Alfonso sits all too close to me.

“Your brother can see you.”

“Is there something he’s not supposed to see?”

I push my glasses down and loll my head to the side to look at him. He turns toward me, but he doesn’t remove his glasses, so I do it for him, pushing them up onto his head.

“Why are we going to Capri? Did something happen?”

“No. My brother needed our help.”

“Doing what?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” I tease, “I guess you’re not the only bad boy in the family.” He looks conflicted about that. “So, what do we need to do?”

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