The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
<<<<495967686970717989>163
Advertisement


And offer her what, Enrico? A sleazy arrangement where you pretend to love your wife and secretly spend time with Olivia? One where you have children with someone else and always wish they were Olivia’s?

I don’t want that life for her, but I was too selfish not to offer it. I knew the consequences if I did. I will be forever tainted in her eyes.

I deserve to be.

I listen to her cry for half an hour with regret swirling deep in my stomach. I hear something bang, and I listen, knowing she’s thrown something at the wall.

She’s angry.

Good.

Angry is better than heartbroken.

I hear something else bang, and I close my eyes in relief. She’s okay. Anger, I can deal with. Heartbreak, I cannot.

I drag myself away from her door and make my way downstairs to head over to the car. Maso and Marley are inside. I trust these two with my life. They wind down the window as they see me approaching.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hi.” I force a smile. “I’m heading home, but I want you to stay and watch over Olivia.”

“Sure thing.” Marley looks across the road at her building. “How long for?”

“Just stay with her until further notice. I want her guarded around the clock. Arrange for a team to look over her.”

“Okay.”

“I want to know where she is at all times,” I add.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Ciao.” I make my way over to my car in the parking lot and I pull out into the traffic. Another car with my two guards inside follows me.

Never alone.

With every block farther away from Olivia, I feel a little more darkness creep in.

It’s 1:00 a.m. and I’m sitting on my bed, resting against the headboard. With a shaky hand, I pour myself another scotch. I’ve drank most of the bottle trying to take the edge off of my sadness.

I feel more alone than ever.

My mind is a swimming pool of memories… every one of her.

I get a vision of her talking and flicking her long, golden hair over her shoulder. Her big blue eyes. The way she looked up at me when we made love. The way she laughs. The way she feels. Her voice. Her smile.

She’s gone.

You did the right thing.

But did I? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it. Being in her arms over the last weekend has only shown me how empty my life really is.

Ferrara.

My name, my entitlement… my prison.

I feel soft skin against my back, and a gentle dusting of lips on my shoulder.

I smile in my sleep. Olivia.

Her hand reaches around and takes my cock. She gives it a long, slow stroke. My eyes flicker. “Hmm.”

She kisses my shoulder again and rolls me onto my back. I’m having trouble waking.

The scotch.

“Hmm,” I moan again as my legs open to allow her access. She strokes me, harder this time, and my balls contract. My back arches off the bed. Mmm, this feels good.

She softly kisses my shoulder as she works me, and my eyes flutter. Olivia.

My body begins to quiver with need, and I spread my legs to touch the mattress as I feel the blood rush to my cock.

Yes… yes.

The bed begins to rock from her hard strokes.

God, yes.

I need to fuck.

“Ti piace il mio uomo?” she whispers.

Italian.

My eyes snap open at the sound of her voice.

“Sophia?” Fuck! I forgot she has a key. I push her off me in disgust.

“Cosa c’è di sbagliato, Enrico?” Translation: what is wrong Enrico?

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” I growl as I jump up, furious. “Do not touch me. Do you hear me?”

“Che problema c’è?” Translation: what is the matter?

“Everything. Get the fuck out of my bedroom!” I push her out of the door. “Get out!” I scream.

“I don’t understand!” she cries in an outrage. “You want me, I know you do. You always want me.”

“What I want is for you to get out of my house. Get out!”

Her face falls. I push her out into the hall, slam the door shut, and flick the lock.

My breath is labored. I’m physically rattled.

I get into the shower and under the steaming hot water. I’m shaken that I nearly just accidently fucked Sophia. How do you nearly accidently fuck someone?

I nearly cheated on my darling Olivia.

I close my eyes, and I can hear my Olivia crying from last night through the door. I can hear the hurt in her voice.

She’s not your Olivia.

What the fuck is happening to me?

Olivia

I stare out of the window of the café in a daze. My coffee and breakfast are getting cold on the table, but I can’t bring myself to start them.

I’ve cried all night, and my eyes were too swollen to go to work today.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt but it’s definitely the deepest.

I know there’s no way around this.

I’m not Italian. I will never be Italian, and he will never make a future with a woman who isn’t.



<<<<495967686970717989>163

Advertisement