The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
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My eyes widen. Holy shit. He’s nailed it; that’s exactly what she’s doing.

“I was at my office all day. If you wanted to see me in regards to work, you come there. Do not ever fucking step foot into one of my homes again.” He grabs her by the arm and begins to drag her out.

“Rico!” I cry. Oh shit, what’s he going to do? “Calm down, will you?”

He marches her to the front door. “You come near Olivia again and see what happens to you.” He pushes her out of the door. “This is your first and last warning.”

“Rico,” she cries. “You’ve gone crazy. You’re pushing away everyone who cares about you.”

“With friends like you, who needs enemies?” he bellows.

He slams the door so hard in her face, it nearly comes off the hinges. He glares at me, and without a word, he marches upstairs and I hear the shower start.

Oh hell, that was unexpected. Although, if I’m honest, I’m kind of glad he did it.

I go back to the kitchen to continue chopping the chicken with my heart racing in my chest. I’ll give him a moment to calm down before I go up and see him.

I wait for ten minutes, and then I hear the shower turn off.

The doorbell rings again.

Damn that doorbell! He’s going to go postal if she’s come back.

I walk out into the living area and see a blonde woman at the door.

He must know her, or the guards wouldn’t have let her in.

I open the door. “Hello.” I smile, relieved that it isn’t that whorebag Sophia.

The woman is in her fifties at a guess. She’s naturally pretty. She twists her hands in front of her nervously.

“Hello,” she says softly. “My name is Angelina.”

Someone with manners, at last. “What a beautiful name.” I shake her hand. “Hello, my name is Olivia.”

Her eyes dart into the house. “I was wondering if Enrico is home.”

“Um.” I frown. “Yes. He is.”

“Could…?” She pauses before finding her bravery. “Can I see him, please? We need to talk.”

“No!” Rico snaps from behind me. “Leave,” he barks.

Her face falls.

“E-Enrico,” I stammer as I turn toward him, shocked by his rudeness.

“Please, we need to talk, Enrico,” she says softly.

He glares at her with such contempt. “I want nothing to do with you. You or your bastard son.”

23

Olivia

He steps in front of me and slams the door shut in her face, and then he storms back up the stairs.

Oh my god.

Horrified, I open the door back up in a rush.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t know what’s come over him today. This is just a really bad time.” I glance up the stairs. “Shall I get him to call you or something?” I ask, looking back at her.

Tears well in her eyes, and she nods. “Thank you.” She steps back and turns to Lorenzo who’s standing at the bottom of the steps. His face is solemn, and he shakes his head, angered by Enrico’s rudeness.

“Come, Angelina, I’ll take you home,” he tells her.

Visibly upset, she walks down the stairs. Lorenzo puts his comforting arm around her, and they walk out to one of the cars before they get in and drive away.

Bastard son…

What did he mean by that?

My eyes widen as I connect the dots. Holy shit, that’s her! His dad’s lover.

I glare up the stairs to where he’s disappeared. I’m suddenly furious. What is his fucking problem today, anyway? How dare he take his anger out on her? This isn’t her fault. She never lied to him. That was his prick-faced womanizing father. Angelina’s only crime was to love someone too much for her own good.

I take the stairs two at a time, eventually finding him in his wardrobe slamming things around.

I march in. “You know what?” I snap. “You’re a judgmental bastard, and a fucking hypocrite.” I storm into the bathroom. “Do not be so rude to people in my house!” I yell as I slam the door. I turn the shower on, take my shirt off, and the bathroom door bangs open.

“How the fuck am I a hypocrite?” he growls.

“Are you kidding me?” I throw my hands up in disgust. “Was that her? Your dad’s mistress? Was that her?”

He glares at me, and I know for certain it was.

“So, let me get this straight,” I sneer. “You hate her for being a mistress, when not three fucking weeks ago you asked the same thing of me?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think there’s one set of rules for you, and one set for everyone else, and quite frankly, this spoilt brat attitude you have going on is fucking pathetic.”

“Fucking pathetic?” he gasps.

“You wanted me on the side.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.” I get under the hot water, and then I remember something. “And why didn’t you tell me that you were sleeping with Sophia? I felt like a fucking idiot downstairs before.”



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