His Kryptonite

Chapter 4

Laila's POV

I had become quite good at avoiding encounters with Michael Rizzuto. After our initial meeting, he had made two unexpected visits to the firm within a week. I couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't delegate some of his tasks or if he just had an abundance of free time to casually drop by so frequently. Nevertheless, I had managed to stay out of his way. Whenever he arrived, I would promptly leave the office, thanks to my little spies who discreetly informed me when it was safe to return.

But here I am, relaxing by the pool in the comfort of my own home, when I hear a deep, husky voice that sends a shiver down my spine. Michael Rizzuto, in our very own house? It feels like some sick joke, yet as I raise myself a bit by pressing both my hands on the edge of the pool, I can clearly see him sitting with my father at the indoor terrace's table, surrounded by scattered papers.

Instantly, I submerge myself in the water, contemplating how long I can remain hidden beneath the surface without succumbing to suffocation. How many contracts could possibly require three separate visits in just one week, let alone one that invades the privacy of our own home? This can't be real! I desperately ponder my escape, hoping that Michael hasn't already noticed me, for I had been far from discreet when I had been blissfully and cluelessly diving and splashing in our expansive pool earlier.

Now, I have to remain submerged in the water and remain completely silent, so as not to attract any more attention to myself. If I stay still, he'll only catch a glimpse of the top of my head if he happens to glance at the pool. I'll play dead until he leaves, even if it means my skin ends up resembling dried raisins.

However, my tranquility is abruptly interrupted as a drop of water falls onto my forehead. It's perplexing because I haven't moved at all, so there's no logical reason for me to be receiving droplets. The single droplet quickly multiplies into two, then three, until a torrential downpour drenches me.

And to make matters worse, I didn't bring a towel with me, as I usually lounge on a sunbed and dry off under the sun. My level of luck is monumental.

With this heavy rainfall, it would be suspicious for me to simply stay in the pool. Plus, my cellphone is laying by the pool and if I don't get it in, I will ruin it. It's time to abandon my plan and seek shelter in the house.

The thought of walking past Michael Rizzuto in this revealing bikini, which is far too small for me, causes my heart to sink. My curves are spilling out everywhere, and the bottom constantly rides up and disappears between my buttocks. Initially, I didn't think it was a big deal to wear it since there's only Mamma, Papà and me in this gigantic mansion, my two older brothers, Vincenzo and Lucas, having already moved out. But clearly, I now have all sorts of regrets.

Reluctantly, I emerge from the water, dreading the impending "walk of shame." I try to adjust the middle part of my bikini bottom, but as I walk, it gets swallowed up again, creating the illusion that I'm wearing a thong. I'm utterly helpless as Michael's gaze falls upon me. I'm cursed. I avoid looking at him because I'm too embarrassed.

I slide the patio door open a bit more before stepping inside, feeling both Papà and Michael's stares as I stand here, drenched. "Hey! Guess I won't need a shower!" I blurt out, instantly regretting my attempt at humour. Papà looks at me with empathy, but Michael's gaze remains emotionless and cold. He must truly despise me.

In an attempt to escape this humiliating moment, I hastily make my way towards the sunroom adjacent to the terrace. I grab a towel from a nearby cabinet and briskly dry myself off. Collapsing onto the couch, I place a hand to my forehead, contemplating just how screwed I am. If Michael had momentarily forgotten about me, he is now undeniably reminded of my existence. Based on his demeanor, it's clear that my mere presence still irritates him immensely.