The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors: T.L. Swan Advertisement

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Imagine if Enrico knew that he asked me out. I wince as I imagine the tantrum he would have. The guard is handsome, with brown hair that has a honey hue to it. What was his name again?

I haven’t seen him before—only that night that we met at the ball.

I grab my briefcase and my big bag of sample swatches. I make my way downstairs and out the front door. Lorenzo glances over and sees me struggling with the large bags, and he runs to help.

“Olivia, let me take this for you.”

“Thank you, that would be great.” He takes my bags and puts them in the trunk.

“Olivia, this is Sergio,” Lorenzo introduces us.

Sergio smiles mischievously and steps forward with his hand held out. “Nice to meet you, Olivia.”

He’s pretending we never met before, which makes sense, I suppose. It’s a lot less awkward.

I smile as we shake hands. “Likewise. Nice to meet you, Sergio.”

Lorenzo fusses around, putting my things into the car, while the other men get the second car ready. Yet, Sergio’s eyes stay glued to mine. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets, and then raises his eyebrow at me. It’s playful and a little seductive with a twist of we both know a secret. His eyes hold mine for an extended time. In fact, he’s giving me the look… what the hell?

I snap my eyes away in a fluster. Jesus, he’s ballsy.

Enrico would literally kill him if he saw him look at me like that.

I climb into the back of the car, and I watch on as the other men get into the car behind us.

Sergio walks up to the front porch of the house.

Lorenzo gets in and slams the door shut. “Are you ready?” He pulls slowly out of the driveway. My eyes stay glued to the naughty man on the porch. “Is Sergio not coming with us?” I ask.

“No, he will work from here today. Someone has to guard the house at all times. He will work out of the boat house.”

“I see.”

Sergio waves, and then heads inside the house. My house.

Uneasiness fills me.

I’m not sure if I like having strangers in my house all the time. Especially ones that give me the fucking look.

I’m going to have to talk to Rico. I want some privacy. This is ridiculous.

I watch the scenery fly by as I think about the last twenty-four hours. Enrico’s words from last night come back to me.

The Don, and the son of a fucking liar.

Fuck, does a sentence get any heavier than that? I don’t even know how or where to begin to process it. He said his family have been criminals in the past, and that there are still elements that are seedy. Prostitution, but that’s a legal business. Gambling, also legal. He said there are no drugs anymore. He also said that he’s trying to clean everything up, but it’s going to take time.

I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Then there’s my poor Rico who really does have the weight of the world on his shoulders. All these staff—staff who lie to him. His father and grandfather left him with this mess, and he feels burdened with such heavy responsibilities.

But I love him, and his burden is my burden.

This isn’t ideal, by any means. I would much prefer him to be a broke policeman in Roma…but he isn’t, and if I want to spend my life with him, I need to get my head around that. I take out my phone to text Natalie.

Oh my God, can we please meet up today?

I have so much to tell you

My finger hovers over the send button. Who am I kidding? I can’t tell Natalie any of this. She can’t keep a secret for shit. I erase my message and type it out again.

Hi, Nat,

How are you?

What time is your job interview?

I wait for a few moments and a text bounces back in.

My interview is at two.

I really hope I get it.

I think I found an apartment.

I smile and text back.

Rico asked me to move in with him.

A reply comes in.

What the fuck?

Are you going to?

I smile at the ridiculousness of my life right now. Am I on Netflix?

I already did.

Apparently, I now live in Lake Como.

I smirk as I wait for her reply.

Oh, get fucked, you’re like Amal Clooney

or some shit.

I giggle out loud and Lorenzo’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror to see what I’m laughing at. What I really want to write back is: except for the small fact that she’s a human rights lawyer and married to a movie star, while I’m an Australian nobody, dating a Don.

I won’t, though. I’ll keep that part of Rici Ferrara to myself. I can’t trust anyone with his secrets. It’s my man and me against the world now. When I told him I loved him, I meant it, warts and all… and boy, are there some warts.

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