Page 70 of Bitter When He Begs

Damien still looks sheepish, like he wants to fix it, but there’s nothing to fix. Whatever that was between me and Luca, it’s already gone.

And maybe that’s for the best.

I shake my head, not wanting to dwell on it, and make my way across the yard toward Nate. He’s standing near the patio, talking to some guys I don’t recognize, his expression animated as he tells a story that clearly has them entertained.

I sidle up next to him, waiting for him to acknowledge me, which he does almost immediately—because, apparently, Nate has a sixth sense when it comes to me needing to be annoyed.

“Can I kick Luca’s ass yet?” he asks, before even saying hello.

I sigh heavily while rubbing my temples. “Nate.”

“What?” he says with that shit-eating grin. “You look pissed, and every time you look pissed, it’s usually because of him.”

“Let it go.”

Nate scoffs. “My name ain’t Elsa, baby.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Nate smirks. “I want to, though.”

I glare at him, but it holds no real weight. Nate’s too stubborn—toohim—to back down from anything he sets his mind to. And apparently, one of those things is beating the shit out of Luca if I ever give him the green light.

Which I won’t.

I scan the yard, my eyes landing on Luca standing with Thorn and Damon. He’s got a Monster in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his board shorts, head tilted slightly like he’s listening to whatever Thorn is saying.

But his posture is stiff, and I know he’s aware of me watching.

I need to cool off.

I pull off my glasses, fold them neatly, and tuck them into my duffel bag before peeling off my tank top and throwing it on top of my stuff. The heat against my bare skin feels good, grounding,but I don’t let myself linger—I push forward, making my way to the pool before I talk myself out of it.

The water is crisp, cutting through my overheated skin like a blade, sending a full-body shiver down my spine as I submerge myself, already feeling the tension from earlier start to slip away.

At least until Roman fucking Bishop happens.

Because, of course, I don’t get two seconds to myself before I’m being ambushed by the fucker.

I don’t even hear him coming before he launches himself at me and before I can blink, I’m wrestling against his stupidly strong grip, my arms shoving at his chest, my legs kicking at the water, and my entire body locked in a struggle to break free.

When I finally surface, gasping for air, Roman is already grinning at me, his hair dripping and his teeth flashing in pure amusement.

“You little shit,” I sputter, shoving at his face. “I knew you were going to pull some bullshit like that.”

Roman just laughs, the sound echoing around the yard. “What, I wasn’t supposed to take the opportunity? You walked right into my territory.”

“This isn’t your territory, it’s a pool!”

He shrugs. “Same thing.”

Before I can respond, he grabs me again, flipping me over into the water like I weigh nothing, and I swear to God, I’m about to drown him. When I resurface again, coughing and wiping my face, Roman is grinning at me like I’m his personal plaything.

“You asshole,” I wheeze as I wipe water from my face. “Stop trying to murder me.”

Roman grins, slicking his own hair back. “You love me.”

“I loathe you.”