The Italian

by T L Swan

  I close my eyes again. Within moments, she slides back into bed and lies half over me. I smile as I kiss her forehead.

  “What a night,” she whispers.

  I smile with my eyes closed. What a night is right.

  Incredible doesn’t even come close to describing it.

  “What’s on for you this week?” I ask as I mindlessly run my fingers through her hair.

  “Just work.”

  “I have to go away today.” I open my eyes.

  “What?” She looks up at me. “For how long?”

  “Until Friday.”

  “Oh.” She lies back down. “Okay.”

  I roll her onto her back and drop my lips to her neck. “Let’s go away next weekend when I get back.”

  “I am away.”

  “I’m not. I need a break. I can be back early Friday, and we can leave as soon as you finish work.”

  “Really?” she asks.

  “Yes, really.”

  She smiles, and I drop my lips to her nipple to give it a hard suck. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  15

  Olivia

  “So?” Giorgio sits back on the chair in my office. His mischievous eyes hold mine and I have a sneaking suspicion that he already knows. “What have I missed?”

  “Nothing much.” I roll my lips to hide my smile.

  “I’ve missed nothing?”

  I pretend to type.

  He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Why must you torture me, my darling?”

  “Torture?” I smile as I type. “How so?”

  “Have you seen Mr. Ferrara?”

  I turn my attention to him for the first time since he’s been in my office. “What do you know about Mr. Ferrara? How do you know him?”

  “Rico and I have been friends for years. I knew his father.”

  “And how exactly did it come about me coming to Milan?”

  “Rico called me.”

  “And said what?”

  “He asked me if you had applied for a job there two years earlier. I said I would check it out. I found when I searched your name that you actually had a current job application in place. I called him back, and he asked me if I could arrange for you to be in Milan.”

  “But why wouldn’t he call me himself? Why would he need the excuse of Valentino?”

  He cringes. “I know, I thought that, too. How exactly did you two meet?”

  “Our eyes met across a crowded room. He came over and translated the menu for me, and then he joined me for dinner.”

  Giorgio smiles as he listens.

  “We ended up spending the weekend together before I left for Sorrento. I’d arranged to meet my girlfriend Natalie there. Enrico and I agreed to meet up again two weeks later.”

  “Natalie is your friend who is moving here?”

  “She’s here already. She arrived on Friday.”

  “Wow.” He swings on his chair, clearly happy for me.

  “But get this; the day I left for Sorrento happened to be the same day his father and grandfather were killed.”

  His face falls.

  “I didn’t hear from him for the entire time I was away, and then when I got back to Rome, someone had planted drugs in my bags.”

  Giorgio’s mouth falls open. “Was it him?

  “I hope not,” I scoff. “But I didn’t know any of this when I was arrested at the airport.”

  Giorgio’s eyes widen. “You were arrested?”

  “Yes, and I saw Rico at the police station, but he left me.”

  “What do you mean… he left you?”

  “He organized for a lawyer to get me off the charges, and he called the embassy, but he never came back and saw me again. I was put on a plane home by his lawyer, not him.”

  He presses his fingers against his lips. “Extraordinary.”

  I shrug. “I mean, even if we were nothing to each other but friends, you wouldn’t just leave someone that you spent the entire weekend with in prison, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so, and especially not him. His loyalty is his strongest trait.” He thinks for a moment. “So, you hadn’t spoken to him since?”

  “Not until I ran into him when I was on my Tinder date and he went feral crazy.”

  Giorgio’s fascinated eyes hold mine. “What did he say about all of this? How did he explain this?”

  I shrug. “He said that he was dealing with the deaths and he just couldn’t handle me and drugs. He said he was in the grieving crisis.”

  He frowns. “In all fairness, he was.”

  “Did you see him back then?’

  He nods. “He was very angry for a long time. He disappeared from the social scene altogether. His brothers both moved back home to help him.”

  “Help him with what?”

  “As the oldest child, he had to take over the family business. This would have been traumatizing for him.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  He sits up and straightens in his chair. “Nothing really, just a lot to get his head around, I imagine.”

  “I guess. Anyway, we had a big fight, and then he came to work and waited outside. I don’t know. We’re seeing how things go.”

  “Oh, I love this story.” He claps his hands together. “It’s like Cinderella going to the ball.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “So, what now?”

  “He’s away for work for the week. He wants to go away for the weekend.”

  “Oh.” He stands. “I’m fitting you out with a new wardrobe. You must look incredible for Mr. Ferrara. You are now officially my hobby.”

  I smirk and turn back to my computer. “Actually, his favorite outfit for me is my birthday suit. He prefers me naked.”

  Giorgio presses the back of his hand to his forehead and pretends to faint. “Dear God, darling I can’t even imagine what he would be like in bed. His intensity is on another level. You can feel it from across a room.”

  I giggle. “Giorgio, you have no idea.”

  It’s late on Thursday night. I scroll through my phone, flicking from Facebook to Instagram and back again. Earlier tonight, I went to the gym with Natalie and noticed two men in a car across the road.

  I think that maybe they were his men.

  Rico hasn’t called me, and to be honest, I thought he would. I mean, if he cares enough to have me watched over like I think he did, I would have at least thought he would check in once in a while.

  Stop it. Stop being so needy.

  I hate that he brings out this side of my personality. For two years, I’ve blissfully hated him from afar. Now, after one weekend with him, I’m whisked back to the beginning, waiting for him to call.

  I scroll through the numbers on my phone and smile when I come to his name.

  ENRICO FERRARA

  I go back to Instagram, and I see the green light come up. What? Oh shit, I’m calling him. I quickly cancel the call. My phone immediately begins to ring, and his name lights up the screen.

  I cringe with regret. “Hello,” I say.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Sorry I didn’t mean to call you.”

  “You’re all right?”

  “Yes.” I frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Ah.” I hear his voice relax. “I thought something was wrong.”

  Something is wrong. You’re not here. “No.” He hangs on the line, silent. “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he sighs. “I would prefer to be there with you, but it is what it is.”

  “You can come home if you want?”

  He chuckles. “I’ll be there tomorrow, my love.”

  My love.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  “And I’ll whisk you away.”

  I smile. “I can’t wait.”

  “Me, too.”

  The line falls silent again, and I wonder if he’s smiling goofily down the line like I am.

  “You looked lovely in that photo you posted this m
orning. I’ve stared at it all day.”

  I bite my bottom lip. I posted a picture of me at my work desk this morning. Giorgio snapped it when I wasn’t looking. But, wait, what?

  “How did you see it on my Facebook account? It’s private,” I ask.

  “Do you know Beverly Whalen, Olivia?”

  “She’s my mom’s friend.” I frown. “Isn’t she?”

  “Maybe.” I can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s smiling.

  I suddenly want to get off the phone to see who in the heck Beverly Whalen really is.

  We fall silent again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he says.

  “I’ve been banking my hours this week so I can leave at three.”

  “Good girl. I’ll pick you up at three.”

  “Okay.” I smile as butterflies dance in my stomach. I get to see him tomorrow.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” I hang on the line. After a few moments, he hangs up.

  I instantly open Facebook and look up Beverly Whalen on my friend list. The profile pic is a woman. She is one of my mums’ work friends, I’m sure of it. Huh?

  I click on her profile. No friends, no address, no details. This is weird. I look up the date we became friends.

  I got a friend request from her four weeks after I returned to Australia from Italy. I didn’t even look into her profile because I knew the face on the photo. Holy shit.

  Beverly Whalen is Rici Ferrara.

  With a stupid, huge smile on my face, I go through all my images over the last two years. He’s liked every single one.

  He’s been watching me from afar. I should be appalled, disgusted… outraged.

  Instead, I’m utterly thrilled.

  He cared. Even though he may be wrapped in a bastard suit, I know he isn’t a bastard. I think that, deep down, I’ve always known that, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to move on from him. I don’t know what happened back then with us, or why he handled things the way that he did, but I don’t think I care anymore. I’m going to try my hardest to take him at face value moving forward.

  I stand with a renewed excitement.

  I need to pack. I’ve got a dirty weekend with a sex god on the horizon.

  I can hardly wait.

  The clock strikes three and I have to stop myself from running from my office.

  He’s here, just outside. After waiting all week to see him, it’s finally time.

  I play it cool and take my time to pack up my desk up. Giorgio swings his head around the door. “Have a wonderful weekend, darling.”

  “Thanks.”

  For once, everything is going to plan, and not just for me. Natalie seems to have hit it off with her guy, too. She’s going on a date with him tonight that will hopefully last the entire weekend. I’m so relieved. I don’t know if I would have been comfortable going away if I knew she was sitting back here alone.

  Giorgio saunters into my office and sits on my desk. “Have you got everything?”

  “I’m all packed.” I swing my handbag over my shoulder and kiss his cheek. “Wish me luck.”

  He assesses me. “No luck needed.” He stands and straightens my scarf. “Knock him dead.”

  My heart begins to race as I make my way downstairs. Finding out that Rico has been stalking me on Facebook for the last two years has made this seem real, and all that more important to get right. I walk out of my building, and I look around.

  Where is he? I don’t see him. Panic begins to set in.

  Then, a black Ferrari comes around the corner. It drives past me and pulls into the loading bay.

  He’s here.

  My stomach dances in excitement and I have to stop myself from running to him. I casually walk up to the car as if gorgeous rich men pick me up in black Ferraris every single day.

  Calm, calm, keeping fucking calm.

  I open the passenger door and lean in. “Hi.”

  He smirks. “Hi.”

  “Going my way?”

  “If I wasn’t already,” his tongues sweeps over his bottom lip, “I am now.” He has a certain twinkle in his eye and seems excited, too.

  I bounce into the car, and he grabs my hand. I lean over to kiss him and his eyes flick to the rearview mirror. I sit back in my seat, instantly reminded that we’re not alone.

  He pulls back out into the traffic, and then picks up my hand to kiss my fingertips. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You, too.” I smile.

  I see another two cars pull out behind us, but I push it to the back of my mind as I pretend not to notice. My stomach is dancing, alive with nerves. For the first time since we’ve been together, I actually have hope. Maybe this can be something more?

  I didn’t imagine it when we were in Rome. He did feel it too, and I don’t feel near so foolish now. Maybe I’m being presumptuous. I don’t know, but this feels real.

  We drive along with my eyes flicking between Rico and the road. He has this smirk on his face, like the guy that got the girl.

  “What are you smirking at?”

  “Just you.”

  “Why?” I smile broadly.

  “Are you packed?” he asks as he pulls into my hotel and parks the car.

  “Yes, where are we going?”

  He turns the car off. “Monte Carlo.”

  My eyes widen. “In Monaco?”

  “I have a yacht down there.”

  “You have a yacht?” I squeak, wide-eyed.

  He chuckles, gets out of the car, and comes around to open my door. He takes my hand and helps me from the car. “Yes, I have a yacht.”

  “Of course, you do.” We begin to walk into my building. “You have all the toys.”

  We get into the lift and he stares straight ahead, while I stare up at him.

  Touch me, damn it.

  I’m really beginning to hate this no touching in public rule. I want him draped all over me like a scarf. We arrive at my room, and as I unlock the door, his hand takes my hip from behind.

  There it is. Touch.

  It’s not sexual, not sleazy, but somehow it sends tingles all the way down to my toes. Maybe that’s because I know it’s a prelude of what’s to come. The door opens, and his hand comes from behind me. He pushes it open with force, unable to wait a second longer.

  Then he’s on me. His hands are in my hair and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. I smile against his lips.

  “That’s more like it,” I whisper. “Took your time.”

  For ten minutes, we kiss, and then he takes me into his big, strong arms and holds me tight. We stand cheek-to-cheek for a long time just enjoying holding each other. I’ve missed him.

  His lips take mine, slow and deliberate, and I find myself clinging to him as he leads me into temptation.

  “Let’s take a shower,” I suggest.

  “We can’t, our plane leaves at five. We have to get to the airport.”

  “What?” Damn it, I want to have I missed you sex.

  “We can relax once we get there.” He kisses me again. “I promise.”

  “Fine.” I step back from him and begin to gather my things. Did I pack right for Monte Carlo? What even happens in Monte Carlo? I definitely don’t have any Princess Grace wear in my suitcase.

  “Do you wear that dress to work often?” he asks as his eyes skim my body.

  I look down at myself. I’m wearing a tight black, woolen turtleneck dress. It has long sleeves and a lower neckline. “Yeah, why?”

  His brows crease. “Please don’t.”

  “Why not?’

  “Because it shows your every curve.”

  “And?”

  “And I want to be the only one seeing those.” He steps forward and takes me into his arms again. “Your body is for my eyes only.”

  “Is that so?” I smile up at him.

  “That’s so.”

  I love that my body is for his eyes only…this is going very well indeed. “You know, you can’t tell me wha
t to do,” I tease.

  He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Would you like to place a bet on that?” He pumps me with his hips.

  I giggle. “I would, actually. I’m in the betting mood. Isn’t that what they do in Monte Carlo?” I bat my lashes.

  He chuckles and turns me away from him, and he playfully slaps my behind. “Get your things. We need to go.”

  “Stop rushing me. I want to stay here and be naked and playful.”

  “Well, I want to get there so you can be naked and under me.”

  Our eyes lock, and he gives me the best come fuck me look of all time.

  “Okay then. That’s definitely more of an incentive.” I begin to rush to get my things together.

  “Like I thought.”

  I pass him my travel suitcase, and then I grab my makeup purse and tuck it in my handbag. I do a quick last check. “Okay, let’s go.”

  He smiles, then leans in and takes my face into his hands to kiss me slowly. “It’s good to see you, Olivia Reynolds,” he whispers.

  I run my fingers through his dark stubble and stare into his big brown eyes. He’s so hard and masculine, yet soft to my touch. Just like his personality. He can act hard with me all he wants, but I know the real him. I want to blurt out that I missed him…. stop it.

  Don’t be a pushover, play it cool I remind myself.

  Calm, calm…keep fucking calm, I pull out of his arms. “Let’s go, Mr. Ferrara.”

  We walk down the dock in Monte Carlo, and my heart is in my throat. Gorgeous boats are lined up, one after the other. I don’t know much about boats, but I do know this is some serious boat porn.

  This afternoon has been quite daunting, I met Rico’s four closest staff: Lorenzo, Maso, Marley, and George. They seemed nice, although Lorenzo stands out as my favorite. His smile was warm and welcoming.

  We caught our flight here in a private jet. We drank champagne, talked, and I have to admit that I’m having a hard time not openly staring at Enrico Ferrara. He seems to be getting more and more handsome by the hour… or perhaps that’s just my lady parts swooning at his masculine ways.

  “This way.” Enrico leads me down the boardwalk. Unable to help it, I link my arm through his. A smile crosses his face.

  We walk up a private jetty. I frown and stop on the spot.