Page 19 of The No Falling Rule
The thought of feeling this free once we’re back home slips into my mind, and a shiver runs through my body. What if I decide to go after my own dreams? Yeah, I’m good at my job, but it’s not something I dreamed of being since I was little. Is it too late for me to go to college? Would Carly approve of me moving out?
For crying out loud, I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman. I can’t keep living for my sister’s approval.
Diego jumps with me, and we fall onto the sunbathing net. The brief free fall steals my breath. I close my eyes, letting the rush wash over me—the laughter, the salt air, the heat of him beside me.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks quickly, body hovering protectively over mine.
I crack one eye open and grin. “I’m okay, but I could be better.” I bite my lower lip.
“Hmm, maybe this’ll help.”
He kisses me, and I sigh into him. Diego takes his time. His hands roam my chest, big, warm, and exploring. When his palms spread across my belly, I moan.
“Fuck, Mia,” he whispers against my lips, voice raw.
“Same, Fall Guy. Same.” My hands slide up his back, pulling him flush against me. His big erection presses into my core, making my head spin.
He breaks the kiss, breath ragged. “I can’t wait to be inside you—clearly,” he says, glancing down between us.
A laugh bubbles out of me, soft and breathless.
“But not here. Not like this,” he adds.
I nod in agreement as he helps me sit up. We bounce on the net for a few seconds, trying to shake off our lust-fogged thoughts. As much as I’m dying to be with him, I wouldn’t want the entire crew to witness it.
Once he regains composure, Diego pops open the champagne and pours us each a glass. He raises his flute, eyes locked on mine.
“To us,” hesays simply.
“To us,” I echo, smiling as our glasses meet.
“So tell me,” I start—and I can see the moment a lightbulb goes off in his brain.
“Yes, what I’d rather spend my money on,” he says, circling the deck like he’s gathering his thoughts. “My family’s business is hospitality, and I truly enjoy talking to people, closing deals. Seeing our legacy grow.” He pauses, takes a sip of his drink. “But I think building resorts in paradise isn’t the only way we can expand.”
My brows pull together, intrigued.
“My dream would be to own an eco-hotel,” he says simply. But the faraway look in his eyes tells me this is more than a business idea—it’s his true passion. “You know, I’ve always wanted to work with my hands.”
I tilt my head at him, and he chuckles in response.
“Yes, I know. I was wearing a suit and tie when we met.” His eyes dance with mirth at the memory. “But that’s what’s expected of me. As a Grosso, I have to look the part.” “That makes sense, I guess,” I start, a million thoughts racing around in my head. “But wouldn’t your parents want you to be happy with what you choose to be?”
A humorless laugh escapes him. “In theory, yes. But my family has worked too hard, generation after generation, to get where we are.”
“On top of the world,” I add.
He nods.
“Tell me more about this echo-hotel idea. I find it phenomenal.”
A genuine smile appears on his face. “I want a hotel that’s comfortable but without wasteful luxury,” he says. “I want the guests to be involved in daily activities that keep the place running in a self-sustaining way.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want your guests to pay to do work?” I tease.
“Well, not eight-hour shifts,” he says, chuckling. “But they’ll do a few activities that give them purpose—something to take home with them. A reminder the next time they’re back in their perfectly polished lives.”
“I can think of a thing or two,” I say, mentally making a list.
