Mommy’s Pool Girl

Sofia has a perfect eye for design. Mrs. Watson has a perfect eye for girls like Tessa.

Mrs. Watson didn’t hire a pool designer. She found her next girl.

Sofia is twenty-four, buttoned-up, and certain she has herself under control. Victoria Watson is forty-four, divorced, and very good at proving young women wrong.

It starts small. A hand at the small of Sofia’s back. Two seconds of eye contact held a beat too long. Cold water and a warm cloth at the nape of her neck on a day too hot to think straight. A single murmured good girl in that low, unhurried voice — and the slow, devastating discovery that it undoes something Sofia never knew was wound so tight.

Victoria has done this before. She is patient. She is gentle. She is thorough. And she always gets what she wants.

By the deep end, Sofia is on her knees. By the weekend she’s bound to Victoria’s bed in navy silk, blindfolded, taken past every limit her careful little body thought it had — and saying a word she swore she never would.

By the time the pool is finished, Sofia belongs to her completely.

She just doesn’t know it yet.