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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“Yes, it is a school night.”

He smiles down at me. “Did I tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress yet?”

“A few times.” I giggle.

“You wear it better than our models. Maybe you could be the next Valentino girl.”

“Ha.” I laugh out loud. “I will need to lose twenty pounds before I would even fit into the sample.”

“Can I cut in?” a deep voice asks. We turn to see Enrico standing beside us.

“Why, of course you can.” Giorgio smiles and steps aside.

Enrico takes me in his arms. He pulls me close, and my body awakens from her dormant sleep.

Shit…

We sway to the music for a moment as I hold my breath. If I inhale, I’m sure to smell his pheromones—the ones that make me weak at the knees. He towers above me, one hand on my lower back holding me close to his body. The other is holding my hand.

“I had forgotten how good you feel in my arms.” He smiles down at me as everyone around us disappears.

That look… I had forgotten it.

I gently ease my body back from his but he pulls me close again.

“Don’t pull away from me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He leans closer, his lips resting on my temple, and I begin to feel a warmth seep into my bones.

He feels so good.

“What were you going to say before?” I ask. “When we were at the bar, you started saying something.”

“Does it really matter now?”

“It does to me. I…” I stop myself from speaking.

“Can I see you tomorrow night?”

I stop dancing.

He moves my body with his hands, and I begin to dance again.

“No.”

“Why not?”

I shake my head. “Why would I want to see you after last time?”

“It was out of my control before.”

I roll my eyes.

“I never left you in a prison to rot.”

“That’s exactly what you did.”

“I ensured you had the best legal team available. It was all that I could do at the time.”

I stop, angered at his piss poor excuse. “That’s not good enough. Whatever. This is pointless.” I pull out of his arms. “Rico, I told you to stay away from me.”

He pulls me close again. “Don’t go,” he whispers. His lips drop to my temple, and I close my eyes at the feel of him there.

“It was a very bad time for me, Olivia. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Why?” I breathe.

“The day I put you onto the plane to Sorrento, my father and grandfather were killed in a car accident.”

I stop dancing and stare up at him. “On that very day?”

He clenches his jaw. “I got the call as I was leaving the airport.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to burden your trip. I was someone you had just met.”

I watch him struggle with this conversation. This subject is obviously hard.

“Every time you called me that week, I was with a lawyer or my grieving mother. The timing was all wrong, and then everything got too hard.”

My heart hurts. “I could have helped you,” I whisper up at him.

He pulls me close, and we dance for a moment. Regret swirls between us.

“I saw you with that man and I…” His voice trails off.

“I’m not on Tinder. That was my first date, Rico. You know me. I’m not like that.”

He pulls me closer. We don’t speak, we just sway to the music. After just one excuse and five minutes of dancing, I feel myself melting against his body.

Mafiosi.

He isn’t good for me.

Nothing about Enrico Ferrara is good for me.

His questionable lifestyle, his money….and the hold he has over my wimpy heart is one big recipe for disaster.

“Can we go for a drink after this? I would like to talk to you,” he says quietly.

I stare up at his handsome face. “No, Rici,” I whisper sadly. I wish things were different. “It’s too late.”

He stops dancing. “You said that our story was just beginning.” His eyes search mine.

“That was before you burned the book.”

Our eyes are locked, the music finishes, and everyone claps while I step back from him.

“Olivia.”

“Goodbye,” I whisper.

His gaze drops to the floor, and before I cave, I turn and quickly walk back to my table.

Giorgio smiles as I arrive, and we both turn to see Enrico leave the ballroom in a rush.

My stomach drops.

Giorgio watches him leave and then turns to me. “Why do you think you’re in Italy, Olivia?”

I turn to him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your application was successful in New York.”

I frown. “What?”

“You got the job in New York—the first one you applied for.”

“Then why did I end up in Milan?”

“Mr. Ferrara sent for you.” I stare at him, lost for words. “I brought you here at his request.”

“What?” I splutter. Horror dawns. “So, my whole job is a sham?”

“No.” He puts his arm around me. “Darling, you got that position fair and square, and I got them to hold the position in New York for three months in case things don’t work out here.”



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