Page 41 of Envy

The water glows deep crimson beneath the submerged lights, sending ripples of red through the high-ceilinged room. Steam rises in soft wisps where the warmth of the pool meets the crisp night air filtering through the partially open roof.

And then, there’shim.

Garret slices through the water with sharp, precise strokes, each movement smooth, controlled, devastatingly powerful. The muscles in his back shift with every stroke, his tattoos morphing like ink on liquid, his body moving like it was carved from stone.

I should leave.

I should turn around before he catches me watching.

But I don’t.

My feet carry me closer, the marble beneath me cool and slick. I inch toward the edge, my breath shallow, drawn in by the mesmerizing sight of him—like a predator lost in its natural element.

The surface ripples hypnotically, lapping at my toes. I lean in just a little more, peering into the water, wondering how deep it is.

Then—

Islip.

A startled gasp escapes my lips, but it’s swallowed instantly as I plunge into the water. A rush of warmth engulfs me, my body sinking, panic slamming into my ribs like a hammer. Water floods my nose, my throat, burning like fire. I try to surface, try to kick, but I can’t find which way is up. The weight of the water presses against my lungs.

I can’t breathe.

Then, a force like a wrecking ball collides into me.

A steel grip yanks me through the water in a powerful wave, and suddenly, I’mairborne.I choke, spluttering as my body is flipped onto its side, coughing up water while heat—warm, strong,alive—surrounds me.

“Rose! Fuck.” Garret’s voice is sharp, laced with something I can’t name.

His arms are locked around me, his hand pressing against my back, rubbing slow, measured strokes as I struggle to breathe.

His touch is solid, grounding, his body radiating warmth as he holds me against his chest, keeping mehere.

“Breathe,” he commands, voice raw.

I do. A ragged, painful inhale that fills my burning lungs with precious air. I cough, my throat raw, my chest tight, but Ibreathe.

His fingers tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You don’t know how to swim?”

I shake my head weakly, still trying to process what just happened.

I could have drowned.

But he saved me.

“Why did you save me?” My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.

His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something fierce. His grip tightens around me, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

“You could have let me drown,” I murmur, my voice hollow.

His expression darkens. His gaze drops—to my lips, to my throat, lower still, pausing just beneath the waterline where my soaked tank top clings to my skin.

When his eyes meet mine again, there’s no hatred.

There’sfear.

Before I can react, he shifts. His strong arms lift me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me through the pool. Water sluices off his skin, glistening under the dim lights.

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