Page 62 of Mafioso's Muse

Checking his surroundings, so as to not hit anyone, Vaughn pulled his oars out of the water. ‘You’re doing great. Let’s just focus on getting your positioning right today. Relax your shoulders.’

She groaned. ‘Story of my life!’

He slid forwards. ‘I’m going to help you.’

‘Yes, please.’

He talked her through good technique, manually adjusting her arms, back, and grip as she rowed. Willow listened and tried to apply everything he said. She really was the perfect student.

‘I’m going to move back now,’ he said. ‘She’s all yours.’

Willow pushed and pulled the oars through the water, trying her absolute best.

‘You’re a natural,’ he told her.

She laughed. ‘That’s very generous of you.’

‘Most people would have tired by now.’

‘You forget that dancers are athletes,’ she said over her shoulder.

He smirked at the bottom of the boat.

Eventually, she did begin to tire. As soon as he realised, he helped pull her oars in and took over the rowing. She rose so she could turn around and face him.

‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘You’ll fall in.’

She quirked a brow at that. ‘Do you have any idea how good my balance is?’

‘Well, the water can be unpredictable.’

Her smiling eyes moved over him. ‘I thought you would be more comfortable with things being unpredictable in your life.’

‘I am—except when it comes to you.’

After a moment of silence, Willow stood completely upright. Panic slammed Vaughn’s insides.

‘What are you doing?’ he said, slowing his movements. ‘Sit down.’

She raised her arms above her head instead.

‘This isn’t funny?—’

‘I’m not trying to be funny. I’m being aswan.’ With that, she proceeded to move into a perfect arabesque, lifting one foot and extending her arms. She pointed her toe at the sky.

In any other setting, Vaughn would have grabbed her and sat her down somewhere safe. But if he moved, he risked tipping the boat. He kept his oars in the water to help balance it. ‘Sit. Down.’

Willow raised her chin and breathed in deeply. ‘First tell me if I look like a swan.’

She looked like the goddess of swans. ‘Yes, you do. Now sit.’

Returning her foot to the boat and her arms to her sides, she sat.

‘Do you know how filthy that water is?’ he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

She peered over the edge of the boat. ‘Judging by your tone and expression, I’d guess very.’

That was far enough for one day. Slowly, he turned the boat around, eyes on her the whole time. ‘This isn’t Bondi. TheE. colilevels in this part of the river are above 24,000 organisms per 100ml.’