Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
“Ciao... hello. Goodbye… addio. Good morning… buongiorno. Good night… buonanotte.”
In my peripheral vision, I see a girl get onto the treadmill beside me. I give her a smile and keep walking. She has light brown hair that’s up in a high ponytail, and olive skin. She doesn’t look Italian. She fluffs around beside me for a while, pushing the wrong buttons.
I take my earplugs out to help her. “You need to push the workout button,” I say.
“Oh, thanks.” Her treadmill begins to move. I frown at her accent.
“You’re Australian?” I ask in surprise. I haven’t met any other Australians yet.
“Yes.” She smiles. “Just moved here this week. You, too?”
“Yes.” I smile with excitement.
“Have you been here long?”
“About six weeks.”
“How are you liking it?”
“I mean, what’s not to love, right?”
She shrugs. “I’m hoping to get to that stage. I’m so nervous about everything so far. I’ve moved here to be with my boyfriend—he’s Italian. We met when he was travelling in Australia. I don’t know anybody else but him.”
Sounds familiar. “Really?” I smile. “Mine, too.”
“I’m Jennifer,” she introduces herself. “Everyone calls me Jen.”
I lean over and shake her hand. “Hi, Jen. I’m Olivia.”
“Nice to meet you, Olivia.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a while.
“Did you get a program made up?” she asks.
“No, I like doing my own thing.”
She looks over to the girl on reception. “I think I will. I need a structured workout or else I just schmooze around. Do you know how much it is?”
I giggle. “Yeah, I get the schmooze thing, and I’ve no idea about the price, sorry.”
“Do you come in the mornings every day?” she asks.
“I’m hoping to. I’m trying to get into some kind of routine.”
“Me, too.” She hits the stop button. “I’m going to go and ask about a program and their pricing structure.” She gives me a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Olivia. I might see you tomorrow morning.”
“For sure,” I say.
I watch her walk over to the girl on reception. They talk for a while.
Hmm, she seems nice. I put my earphones back in and continue with my lesson while I walk. “Motorbike… motocicletta.”
Enrico
I walk into my office at 9:00 a.m.
“Good morning,” I say to my two receptionists.
Greta looks up and smiles. “Good morning, Mr. Ferrara. Mrs. Ferrara is waiting in your office for you.”
I exhale heavily. My mother is here. Great. Just what I need. “Thank you.” I open the door and find her sitting at my desk.
“Hello, Mamma.”
She stands. “Hello, darling.” She smiles and kisses both my cheeks.
She’s immaculately put together, as always. It’s funny, you know; I didn’t realize that women weren’t always perfect like this. Until I met Olivia, I never knew a woman who was so comfortable in her own skin. So naturally beautiful without all the window dressing.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask as I take a seat opposite her at my desk.
Mother’s eyes hold mine. She holds her hand out and looks at her manicured red nails. It’s something she always does when she’s uncomfortable. “I’m here to talk about the last few days and the things that have come to light.”
Her eyes rise to meet mine, and I raise my chin, angered.
She’s the last person I want to discuss my father’s infidelities with.
I rearrange the papers on my desk to try and distract myself. “Such as?”
“Enrico. Stop it.”
“What do you want me to say, Mamma?” I get out of my chair in a rush and walk to the window to stare out over Milan. “That my father was a great man?”
“Your father was a great man,” she replies calmly.
“Who I now have zero respect for.”
“Stop it!” she snaps, and she stands in a rush. “Don’t you dare disrespect my husband.”
I look her up and down and give a subtle shake of my head.
“What’s that look for?”
I put my hands into my suit pockets. “Just looking at you in your widow wear. Two years is a long time to wear black for a man who treated you with nothing but disrespect.”
The sharp sting of her hand burns my face, and the slap echoes throughout the room.
“How dare you?” she whispers. “How dare you judge him… or me? You know nothing about our relationship, and you will never understand. You couldn’t possibly.”
Adrenaline floods my body. That is the first time in my entire life that my mother has raised her hand to me.
“Oh, I understand,” I sneer as my anger escalates to a dangerously high level. “I understand that my father has cut both my brothers out of his will completely. That one day, a bastard child of his will lead Ferrara Industries. Tell me mother… when Giuliano is announced as a Ferrara, how are you going to explain this to Francesca?”
Her eyes hold mine.
“How do you explain to a sixteen-year-old girl that her father had two women pregnant within a year of each other?”