After her stupid encounter with Ryder, she went back inside and tried to talk to her dad.

 

“But he’s mean to me!” she shouted at him.

 

Ryder had stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching as he was being paid to do.

 

Matteo looked at Ryder and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure he’ll be nothing but nice from now on.”

 

“Sure,” Ryder said. “Whatever you say, boss.”

 

“There, see?” Matteo said.

 

But that wasn’t enough. “Daddy, you don’t understand. He said horrible things. He called me rich and spoiled and said I was fake and had to hide behind my name and money.”

 

“Well…” Matteo crossed his arms. “He’s entitled to his opinion, I suppose. Pia, just don’t talk to him. He’s there to protect you, and he’s the best I have. I’m not going to put you in danger or assign someone less skilled to you just because you got your feelings hurt. Do you understand that you were almost kidnapped today? Do you have any idea what could be happening to you right now if Ryder hadn’t jumped in to save you? Did you even thank him?”

 

She shot a hateful look over at Ryder. Thank him? For being so late the guy almost took her? For letting him get away with it? “I’m not going to thank him. The guy got away and he almost had me. Besides, it wasn’t like I came out of it unharmed. My knee was bleeding and all my clothes are ruined, and do you know what kind of emotional damage I faced? This could take months of therapy to get over.”

 

“Then we’ll get you the best therapist around,” Matteo said. He came to her and kissed her forehead. “You are too important to me to take any risks. I’m sorry. Just ignore him and I’m sure he’ll do the same. He’s there to protect you, not be your friend. You don’t have to talk to him.”

 

It seemed like nothing she did was going to work. She’d need a more solid way to get him fired if she wanted to be rid of him for good.

 

She stormed up to her room and slammed the door shut before locking it. A minute later, there was a knock.

 

“What?” she said.

 

“It’s Ryder. My room is right next door, so if something happens or you need me, just knock or scream.”

 

“Right.”

 

She stood in her huge walk-in closet and carefully removed and put away her jewelry. She owned a massive collection of earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets, but she never seemed to have enough. Tonight, as she took off each piece, she inspected it more carefully than usual. She always checked her pieces for any signs of wear or damage. The instant a stone was scratched or went missing, or some of the finish faded, she’d get rid of it. Usually one of the maids or other servants would drool over it and she’d give it to them to keep them happy. They usually did an extra good job on her room because of it.

 

Tonight, when she looked at her ring, she saw several scrapes in the metal band. The ring was a large, flat black stone surrounded by gold. The band that held it to her finger must have been damaged when she fell. She had put her hand on the ground on the pavement, and that must have been when the scratches happened. She set the ring aside. Tomorrow, she’d think about who would be best to receive this gift. Who would benefit her the most to have it?

 

Luckily, the rest of her jewelry looked to be still in the perfect condition it had been in when she put it on that morning. She pouted at herself when she undressed in front of her mirror. The whole outfit, trash. She peeled off the sweater and looked at the dirt stains on the back and sleeves. Her jeans, of course, were shredded in one knee. Maybe some girls were into that look, but unless they were made to be that way, there was no way she was going out of the house wearing damaged Givenchy jeans. No way. She didn’t even know what had happened to the shoes she’d discarded. Someone had probably thrown them out already.

 

She wanted to cry over the shoes and her jeans. It was over two thousand dollars' worth of clothing that she would never get to wear again. The sweater was a disappointment, but she adored those rare shoes. No one had them, and she’d made a lot of women jealous because they couldn’t get them. And those jeans. They fit so perfectly. It was only the second time she’d worn them.

 

Her knee hurt. Once she was in just her underwear, she’d gone to her bathroom and taken a soft washcloth to her knee, dabbing the blood away. Then she’d put on her silk robe and gone to find one of the housekeepers who was good at medical stuff.

 

“Francesca, I need you to fix my knee,” Pia said to her, pouting.

 

Francesca was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for tomorrow’s meals. She put down her peeler, wiped her hands, and bent down to look. “What happened, Miss Pia?”

 

“A horrible man attacked me. I was almost kidnapped.”

 

“Oh my, that’s terrible.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Pia said dramatically. “It really was. I think I’m still in shock. I almost died tonight.”

 

“Oh no, I’m sorry.” Francesca went to the sink and washed her hands. “I’ll get the ointment and a Band-Aid.”

 

“Do you think it will scar?”

 

“No, no. It’s just a scrape.”

 

Pia huffed. “Just a scrape? It ruined my jeans! I had to throw them out.”

 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Miss Pia. I just meant that it’s not deep enough to leave a scar. And it won’t need stitches.”

 

“Good.”

 

“We’ll get you fixed right up. Want to come into the hall bathroom with me?”

 

Pia followed Francesca into the hall bathroom and sat on the toilet seat while Francesca took items out of the cabinet. She first rubbed a cleaning pad over it. It stung a bit and Pia flinched, but Francesca blew on it and it felt a little better. Then she smeared some ointment on and covered it with a Band-Aid.

 

“How long does it need to stay on?” Pia asked. “I won’t be able to leave the house with it like this.”

 

“Oh, I think by tomorrow you might have a scab.”

 

“A scab?” Pia groaned. “This is horrible.”

 

“I think it will be healed up in a day or so. No need to worry. Get plenty of rest tonight.”

 

“Thank you, Francesca.”

 

Pia had walked back upstairs, feeling the Band-Aid move strangely against her knee with every bend and straighten. What an ass that guy was. And Ryder had just let him go. He was probably at home right now in his bed, sleeping away with no cares in the world. Here she was, injury on her knee, having to deal with a wardrobe decimation and now Ryder following her everywhere.

 

Where was he anyway? Hadn’t he noticed that she’d come out of her room? Wasn’t he supposed to be following her every move?

 

When she got back to her door, he opened his and stuck his head out. “Is your knee all better now?”

 

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Francesca just fixed it up for you.”

 

“How did you know that?”

 

He smirked. “Really? As much as you know, you don’t know there are camera all over this house?”

 

She knew there were some, but she had to admit, she didn’t know the extent of them. When she’d found out they were being installed, all she’d cared about was that they weren’t in her room.

 

“Great. So you just sit in your room watching me on camera?”

 

“Would you rather I follow you around everywhere?”

 

“Definitely not.”

 

“Okay then.” He pulled his head back and closed his door.

 

She walked into her room and went through her evening ritual. Brushing her teeth and her hair, washing her face, moisturizing, applying eye cream and pimple cream and wrinkle cream. Then she rubbed lotion all over her skin, gave her feet a thorough washing and exfoliating, then slipped on the yoga pants and t-shirt that she usually slept in.

 

When she got into bed, her soothing eye mask over her eyes, she couldn’t make her head stop racing. It kept replaying the day. The feeling of the man grabbing her from behind, his rough hand on her mouth. Seeing Ryder jump in to save her. Then everything horrible he’d said to her all night. And everything horrible she’d said to him.

 

It was like a crappy song stuck on repeat. She wanted to advance it or shut it off so she could go to sleep. She kept seeing Ryder’s face, remembering how his body had felt pressed against hers. How he’d almost kissed her. He had almost kissed her, right? She hadn’t just imagined that?

 

Stranger, though, was that she wanted him to. Something about him turned her on. He was so far from her usual type. She liked clean cut, wealthy men from a decent upbringing. Someone with manners and class. Someone so far from what Ryder was that they weren’t even comparable. Ryder was broke, rude, dirty and scruffy looking, and who knew who his family were. Yet, the way he’d grabbed her and pressed her against the stables…she’d never been turned on like that before.

 

The other men she’d slept with had been fine enough. It was a decent time. Nothing life shattering by any means. But nice enough. With Ryder, though, just the thought of him made her wet. She had never felt that way about anyone before. Usually, she got off more on how badly they wanted her, how they’d beg to be let inside her tight little body. But Ryder? He wouldn’t beg her. He’d probably almost force his way in. And that thought excited her even more.

 

Her wired up brain jumped into fantasy mode. She imagined him pressing her against the stables, but this time ripping her shirt off. Or saw him driving her somewhere, then pulling over and jumping into the backseat where she was. Or following her into a room and bending her over a table. Or coming into her room while she slept and surprising her.

 

She’d gotten herself so excited, she did something she rarely found the need for. She touched herself. Once the rush of pleasure took over her, she got up and washed, then tried again to go to sleep after drinking some water. But she still tossed and turned. Maybe she needed something stronger than water.

 

Usually, red wine made her sleepy. She preferred white for that reason and she had to be careful if the occasion called for red, not to drink too much. She’d almost fallen asleep at a boring dinner party once, years ago, and her father had scolded her for it. But tonight, it would be perfect. Just one glass. Enough to make her sleepy and shut up her mind.

 

She padded softly down the hallway, pausing to look back at Ryder’s door before going downstairs. Was he asleep? Or was he watching her right now? She wished she still had her panties and bra on under her robe instead of this t-shirt and yoga pants. What was she thinking wearing this out of her room? She’d go shopping tomorrow for some cute nighties. Who cared if everyone said cotton sleepwear was better for your skin. She had to look cute at all times now. Especially if she wanted to trick herself into thinking any of her fantasies could come true.

 

Her feet hit the tile floor of the kitchen. She looked up, shocked to find someone standing there, leaning against the island counter, looking at her.

 

“Aren’t you missing out on your beauty sleep right now?” Ryder asked.

 

He was shirtless. Her eyes traveled over the bulges of muscles on his chest and stomach without her even thinking about what she was doing. He wore only boxers, his legs thick and dark under them. He was like a solid piece of rock, and she wanted to dig her fingers into him.

 

“It’s not sleep that makes me so beautiful,” she said.

 

“Then what is it? Cosmetic surgery?”

 

She glared and reached up to get a wine glass. She couldn’t reach easily and as she stretched on her tiptoes, Ryder came over and grabbed the glass to hand it to her. His body was so close when he did, that he brushed against her, sending heat rushing over her skin.

 

She snatched the glass from his hand. “What are you doing down here anyway, in my kitchen?”

 

“It’s your father’s kitchen, first of all. You’ve paid for nothing in this house. And second of all, I’m staying here for as long as I’m stuck watching you, so it’s my kitchen for now.”

 

“Right.” She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help remembering the way his body felt, strong and hot, pressed against hers outside by the stable. “Like you would even know what to do in a kitchen like this.”

 

“Kitchens are pretty much the same. It’s not rocket science.”

 

Pia laughed. “Hardly. Have you ever even been in a kitchen this size?”

 

He said nothing, but his expression fell into a glare and he crossed his arms.

 

“That’s what I thought. Do you know what a double oven is or why it’s used?”

 

He continued to glare, so she continued to push.

 

“I bet your mama’s kitchen didn’t even have a dishwasher. We have two. And a smart refrigerator and a walk-in freezer. Oh, and the coffee makers. They practically make your coffee for you.”

 

“Like you would know. Don’t you have people who do that for you?”

 

“Well, yes. So, I guess the coffee makes itself for them. It does tea also, but I guess you don’t drink tea or wine or anything that would indicate any sliver of class. It’s all beer and sugary sodas for you, isn’t it?”

 

“Don’t act like you know anything about me.”

 

“Oh really? Okay, Mr. Hotshot. What’s the difference between French press and drip coffee? Or between green tea and black tea? Did you even know there was black tea or were you raised in a barn with the other pigs and nasty animals?”

 

“Enough,” he growled.

 

His eyebrows lowered and one of his eyes gave a slight twitch. She almost smiled at this. She’d managed to irritate him and she liked it. Good. He needed to be shaken up and agitated. He sure did a fair job of annoying her. What was a little payback?

 

Pia suddenly had a burning desire to see what he was like angry. For real angry, like he was ready to fight. Would he hit her? That would get him fired real fast. But maybe, just maybe, he’d throw her against the wall again and press against her. Maybe he would kiss her and her fantasies would come true.

 

Her mouth pulled into a crooked smile. What was the worst thing she could say to him? What would get him the maddest? She would push every one of his buttons until she hit it. Until he exploded.

 

There was no losing for her. This could go one of two ways. One, he’d flip and hurt her, which would get him fired, probably even killed, but certainly out of her life forever. Which was fine. She still didn’t need him tagging around her all day. Or, he’d kiss her, maybe even force things farther. At that thought, she felt the wetness between her legs. It half disgusted her that she wanted him so badly. This trashy low class grunt. He’d taint her if he entered her, yet the idea of feeling his strong muscles around her and him inside her made her so hot, she couldn’t stand it. If he kissed her, she’d get what she really wanted. And she could still get him fired by telling her father if he ever pissed her off and she needed more serious payback. There was no losing.

 

She crossed her arms, cocked her hip to the side, dropped her head slightly, and took aim, focusing in on him with her cold stare. Then she fired. “I don’t know how a little white trash boy from the ghetto got a job with the mafia anyway. You don’t belong here. You belong in a trash heap. Why don’t you go back there and play with someone your own class?”

 

The rage flickered in his eyes. He stepped toward her. She breathed in and her arms fell. Her heart jumped as he came closer. Part fear, part exhilaration, all desire.

 

He reached out and grabbed her waist with both hands. He yanked her close, until his face was just inches from hers.

 

Kiss me, she pleaded. But she held her glare and pushed against him to break free. “Let go of me,” she demanded.

 

She put her hands on his hot forearms and pushed. He didn’t budge. She pushed against his chest with all her strength, but gained only an inch of freedom. He was so strong.

 

His hands tightened on her waist. It was starting to hurt. She might even have bruises.

 

“You need to learn when to shut your trap,” he said, hissing into her ear. “I will kill you in your sleep so your attacker doesn’t have to. I will slit you up and down and watch you bleed. Just for fun. Then, I’ll smear your blood over your father’s face as I kill him, too. Is that what you want? Would that make you happy?”

 

She gulped. The fear was starting to overtake her. He was strong. Too strong. She wouldn’t be able to escape from him if he did try to hurt her. She’d gotten herself in too deep. Assumed she knew more about him than she did.

 

If he really was as trashy as she said he was, then he probably didn’t care about things like going to jail or getting fired. He would kill her. He would kill her father. He was paid to kill people all the time. What were two more deaths on his hands? She struggled against him for real.

 

She wanted him to let go now. She wanted to run back to her room and hide from him, where he couldn’t hurt her.

 

“Let go,” she said, pleading to the point where her voice was almost a whine. Her throat went thick, like she was going to cry.

 

No, she couldn’t do that. That would show too much weakness. She’d already given in too much by showing her fear, by letting down her guard and letting him see that she was afraid of him. It gave him too much power. And it seemed that now, he was going to use it against her.

 

He didn’t let go. He moved one hand to her back, pressing hard enough that she couldn’t move from him. He dug his other hand into her long blonde hair. Then, slowly, he pulled back.

 

“Stop,” she whimpered.

 

He laughed darkly and pulled harder. Her throat was exposed and her face was straight up in the air so she was forced to look at him. She could barely swallow. She blinked fast to keep the tears away, but it hurt now. She could feel the places in her scalp where his fingers held her head back.

 

His eyes were cold and hard and so close to hers. “You will never talk to me like that again. Do you understand?”

 

She couldn’t nod her head. She tried. She swallowed hard and looked up at him. “My father will hear all about this,” she whispered.

 

***

 

Ryder didn’t think he could contain himself. He was so hard, his dick throbbed. He should have worn something besides just boxers when he left his room, but he certainly hadn’t counted on this. What a pleasant surprise it was, to have her appear so suddenly, to walk down the stairs wearing what she was wearing.

 

He’d assumed she would sleep in some cute little nighty. Some little lacy thing that made her look like a sex goddess. But, somehow, the t-shirt and pants made her look even hotter. Her hard nipples stuck out of her shirt, calling to him. Too much of her was covered. If she’d worn lace, he would see what he needed to see and that would be it. But like this, there was too much mystery. He needed to shred those pants and see all she had to offer him.

 

Now, with his fingers tangled in her long hair, her neck exposed to him, her breasts pushed against him, her body hot and quivering under his touch. His cock was ready to explode. Could she feel him? There was so little fabric between her pussy and his dick. So little effort to tear it away and shove deep inside her.

 

His head spun. He couldn’t take it. But she was such a bitch. All the things she said to him. He wanted to strangle her. He wasn’t kidding about slicing her up and watching her bleed. It would give him just as much pleasure as fucking her brains out would. Hell, maybe he’d do both and feed both sides of his twisted nature. He’d have her, then he’d make sure no one else ever would.

 

When she looked up at him like that, all scared and fragile, he wanted to crush her. To take out all his anger on her and damage her forever. Her eyebrows pulled together in fear. Tears welled in her eyes, but didn’t overflow.

 

“I don’t know whether to kill you or fuck you,” he said through clenched teeth.

 

She let out a small gasp and his mind was made up.

 

He gripped the back of her head and forced her lips to his. She tried to pull away, tried to push him back, but he refused to let her. Then he didn’t need to.

 

As his lips moved over hers, she moved hers back. She stopped trying to get away. She brought one leg up to wrap around his waist and pull her closer. She pressed her hips into his waist.

 

He stepped forward until she was against the counter. He rubbed his hard dick against her pants and he swore she was already wet. He would just take her right here, right now.

 

She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he sucked on it. She let out a small cry of pleasure when he released it. His hands found her breasts and he squeezed and pinched.

 

She didn’t try to get away from him now. She wanted him, too. Just as badly as he wanted her. Maybe worse. She’d probably never been fucked properly in her life. All these little rich boys with their tiny limp dicks had no idea how to please a woman. Not like Ryder did. He would make her scream and forget her own name.

 

He moved his hand from her back to her ass. It was perfect. Round and soft and fit nicely in his hand. He squeezed and pulled her hips against him, rubbing himself up and down her front. He might come right now, all over her. Why did she have to be so hot and such a pain in the ass? Maybe he’d be a pain in her ass right back. Literally.

 

His head spun and he couldn’t see straight. The anger he’d felt transformed into pure lust. He slid his hand inside her pants to feel the bare skin of her ass. Her body was so perfect. How much money did it cost to get a body like that? To keep it so firm and tight and smooth? She probably went to the spa every week.

 

He started to move his hand around to her front, to feel her wetness run over his fingers, but he stopped. She probably did go to the spa every week. And all the other things that rich girls did.

 

He slid his hand out of her pants and pushed away from her.

 

She stood against the counter, breathing heavy and looking at him, confused. Her lips were redder than normal, swollen slightly from his rough kissing.

 

Everything about her said she wanted him. She leaned forward slightly, her lips parted, and she pulled half her lower lip into her mouth, held by her perfectly straight, crisp white teeth. One hand covered her stomach and the other fell to her chin, where she let a piece of her hair slip between her fingers.

 

No. She was too perfect. And that was because she was the mob boss’s daughter. He’d gone too far. He’d forgotten who she was and who he was.

 

If Matteo knew what he’d just done, that he’d touched her and kissed her—even if he only knew what Ryder wanted to do, and imagined doing to her—he would have him killed. And no piece of ass was worth that. Especially not when it was her. When she’d be thrilled to see him killed for her sake. She’d probably grin at his funeral and smile over his grave, knowing that she’d won in the end. Upper class triumphed again. Who was he but a trashy kid from the streets?

 

He wouldn’t be that stupid. Not over her. If he was going to screw up his life even worse, it would have to be worth it. It would have to be for someone who was worth it. Not this spoiled brat.

 

“Get up to your room and stay there,” he commanded. “Do not come out until morning.”

 

Her arms fell into a crossed position over her chest and she glowered at him. Was she going to challenge him on this? Didn’t she know how dangerous this game was? He could play all day. Love. Hate. They were the same to him. Just like lust and anger. Interchangeable. One was as good as the other. Not for her, though. She’d do something stupid like fall in love with him. Then it would get messy and emotional. He wanted none of that. He could go find a street girl, pay her a few bucks, and get his kicks that way. Most of them let him get rough. The good ones, anyway. He’d find a blonde one and fuck her good and pretend it was Pia and that would have to be enough.

 

“Go.” There was no question, no wavering in his voice. He left no room for discussion or compromise.

 

She huffed and pushed off from the counter. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned from him, walking with drama, throwing her hips out as she flounced up the stairs.

 

His dick throbbed. He tucked it back inside his shorts, took a last chug of water from his glass, and put it in the sink.

 

In his room, he checked the monitors. There wasn’t a camera in her room. Matteo had said she’d insisted on that, and it seemed fair when he explained it. But now, he wished desperately that there was one.

 

What was she doing right now? Had she undressed? Was she lying naked in her bed, touching herself and thinking of him?

 

After checking all the cameras to make sure she didn’t appear in any of them, he lay down in his bed. He was too hot and wired up to sleep. There was only one thing he could now after a kiss like that.

 

He grabbed a tissue and closed his eyes. He pictured Pia naked, imagined what she would feel like, how he’d make her moan and scream. It took only a few long strokes before he shuddered in orgasm and filled the tissue.

 

He threw it away and lay back down. It wasn’t enough, though. He was still half hard and his mind was full of her. What was he going to do about this?

 

Getting taken off the job wasn’t an option. He couldn’t very well go to Matteo and tell him he had a thing for his daughter, so he couldn’t be around her or he might have to screw her. That would get him killed. He couldn’t just quit. You didn’t quit the mob. Not alive anyway. He couldn’t mess up and get fired. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t live to tell the tale. And he certainly couldn’t give in and have his way with her. Matteo would probably chop off his dick, then kill him anyway.

 

No matter how he looked at it, he had no choice. He had to do his job and do it well and keep his hands off her. It was the only way to make it through this with his organs still in his body. One misstep and he was done.

 

He could fantasize, though. He’d just have to keep the tissues well stocked and find a moment of privacy as often as he needed to. She wasn’t worth it, he kept telling himself. She was a brat, anyway. The way she talked to him? She thought she was better than him by far. But even that…it somehow made it all the hotter that she wanted him, knowing that. She thought he was trash, she thought she was better than him, yet she wanted him. And he didn’t doubt for a second that, had he tried, he’d be in her bed right now. Or hell, they’d be downstairs in the kitchen and her bare ass would be on the counter while he thrust deep inside her.

 

He groaned and rolled over, his dick hard again. This was ridiculous. How was this one chick driving him so mad? Never before had one girl gotten inside his head and under his skin. What was it about her that did this to him? He could not stop thinking about her. It wasn’t just her beauty. He’d banged plenty of hot chicks and forgotten them the next day. It definitely wasn’t her money. He hated that most about her because it put them in two separate worlds permanently. She was higher than him and that would never change. It certainly wasn’t her attitude.

 

Or was it? Maybe the fact that she was the first woman to talk back to him, to not give in to him. She was the first one to stand up, to push back, to take control. To tell him what she really thought. Maybe her boldness was what did it. Maybe it was that she didn’t seem to want him like he wanted her. Well, her words said she didn’t, but her body said she did. She probably didn’t even know what she wanted.

 

Had he made it even harder for himself by kissing her? Maybe it would have been better to never know how she kissed him back, how she pressed against him, how she looked at him longingly. If he could have convinced himself that she didn’t want him and never would, he could have gone on with his life and put her out of his mind whenever she threatened to break in. But knowing was too much. He kept seeing her huge brown eyes and the way they yearned for him. Now, he’d have to follow her around, not touching her, but knowing what it felt like to touch her. Knowing that she wanted him. Knowing that every harsh word was a move in the game.

 

He loved these games. He couldn’t wait to see her next move. Would she grow colder, harsher? Would she ignore him? Would she turn and suddenly be nice to him? Fat chance of that. Would she tell her father that he’d kissed her?

 

That made his blood turn cold. She might. She might be vengeful enough, and if she wanted him and he didn’t fuck her, she might feel slighted. He scrambled out of bed and went to the videos. He brought up the footage on the laptop and scanned back through it to find their encounter.

 

Watching it made him hot all over again. God, he’d have to jerk off again before going to sleep. He shook his head. He opened the video file and cut out the part where they’d kissed. When he watched again after cutting it, it looked like they’d had words and she stormed off. Perfect. As long as whoever watched didn’t pay too much attention to the time stamp. Fuck. There was no way to fix that. He’d have to take his chances. At least if someone knew part of the video was missing, they couldn’t prove what was missing. It was still safer.

 

As much as he wanted to keep that clip to watch it over and over and see her leg swing up to hug his waist, he had to get rid of the evidence. He watched it one more time, then hit delete and emptied the recycle bin. He couldn’t afford to take any chances.

 

Of all the hits he’d ever done. All the times he’d had to sneak into tricky places, to hunt someone down and wait for hours and hours for the perfect shot. For all the tight places he’d gotten himself into and out of, this was the trickiest. This job was, by far, the hardest job he’d ever had. Shooting people was far easier than keeping his hands off Pia.