Page 34 of Greed

“I’m not filming right now. I’ll film later when I make the bread and post it to my followers. You know what social media is, right?” Giovanni nods. “Well, I do a cooking and baking show on there.”

Giovanni smiles and then looks at the bowl. “Why don’t you just make the bread now?” he asks, tilting his head in the cutest way.

“Because the dough must rise before we can make the bread. We have to wait for the yeast to activate, and it’ll make the dough double, sometimes triple in size.”

“That’s so cool. It’s like science,” Giovanni says.

I nod. “It is science. Cooking is just another type of science. That’s why at school they call it food tech.”

Giovanni watches the bowl. “Will I be able to see it rise?”

“It’ll take time,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m going to take a break; it’s hot in the kitchen, and I think I’ll go cool off in the pool.”

I don’t tell him that today is my first day that I’m allowed to go there.

Giovanni’s smile brightens. “I’ll go with you. I love to swim,” he explains. “I’m even on the junior swim team.”

I can’t exactly tell him he can’t come, but I sigh. “Sure, let’s go.” I go to Roberto and say, “I want to go swim.” I put my hands on my hips as I look at him.

Giovanni bounces next to me. “You don’t have to ask Roberto to take you there. I know the way.” He grins excitedly. “I also know where you can change.”

Roberto chuckles softly, leaning down. “Mr. Ricci, your father wants me to escort Miss Bianchi around the property at all times. It’s my job.”

I watch Giovanni’s reaction. He looks surprised, and his mouth opens and closes before he looks up at me with big eyes. “You must be super important if Daddy is letting Roberto escort you around. Roberto is Daddy’s bodyguard.”

Roberto gives Giovanni a small smile, and I’m surprised. I’ve never seen him crack a smile for anyone while I’ve been here, let alone a gentle one like that.

I scoff under my breath, quietly so Giovanni doesn’t hear. Important indeed; I’m sure the only way I ever get to be without Roberto is if I were alone with Matteo. If I catch that asshole eying up my ass one more time, I’m going to put him on his back and squash his nuts.

Giovanni takes my hand, which practically engulfs his, and smiles up at me. I look at Roberto, who is still smiling. Everyone seems to have a soft spot for the kid, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was developing one as well.

I’m shocked that this kid wants to walk with me everywhere. I haven’t exactly been overly friendly to him. Not with who his father is.

I have to walk through the house slowly because Giovanni talks more than he walks, but he happily leads me toward the pool through a back way with Roberto right behind us.

I briefly consider taking the kid hostage and using him for an escape tool, but if I don’t get that right, I know Matteo will kill me for touching his son.

There are some lines you don’t cross, and touching family is one of them. I wish Matteo understood that, and Andrea did too. The thought that Andrea was selling me off to Michael crosses my mind, and I frown.

I wouldn’t have married him after that night. Andrea would have had to duct tape me and say the vows for me and chain me to Michael’s bed before I married him.

I look at Giovanni and realize I haven’t seen a woman in the house other than the help. I wonder where his mom is. Did she run away from Matteo because he’s a ruthless mob boss?

My mom didn’t. She thrived under my father’s rule. She often gave advice and helped my father make important decisions. But this life isn’t for everybody, I guess. She must have left him.

Giovanni doesn’t mention his mother. He continues to prattle away about the different swim strokes he knows how to do. At six. This kid is well-educated.

We reach the door leading outside, and I briefly consider making a run for it. But then I realized the pool is in an enclosed space, so it would be useless.

I follow Giovanni outside. A table with a white tablecloth takes center place on the veranda. Maria has already put out glasses and a pitcher of juice.

Giovanni looks up at me again. “Do you want some juice?” he asks.

I nod. “Sure.”

He runs to the juice, and Roberto follows quickly to help him lift the pitcher, which he struggles with. I’m shocked at how gentle Roberto is with the child and how easily Giovanni accepts his help. He pours a glass of juice and brings it to me.

“Here you go,” he says, a proud sparkle in his eyes.