The Italian

Three hours earlier.

Rico stares at his reflection in the mirror. He straightens his tie and dust his hands over his pants.

“We’ll talk more tonight, okay?” I kiss him softly. I can feel the anger oozing out of him like a volcano that’s about to explode. “Try and be calm.” I straighten his collar. “Just don’t say anything more until you cool down.”

He stares at me flatly, and his jaw ticks. “I have to go.” He kisses me, and I cling to him, trying my hardest to give him some of my strength.

“I love you.” I smile up at him.

He exhales heavily. “That’s the only light in my life at the moment.” He kisses me again. “Stay with your guards today. I’ll be rotating them with new ones to replace Lorenzo and Maso.”

“Why?”

“I’m done with their deception. I’m letting them both go.”

“Rici,” I whisper. “Just wait for a week and see how you feel about it then. Besides, I’m comfortable with Lorenzo. I don’t want another man with me.”

Rico picks up his briefcase. “You will do as you’re told. Goodbye, Olivia.”

I smirk at his bossiness. “Bye.”

I go to the window and look out through the sheer drapes. I watch him leave the house in a rush. Lorenzo approaches him and they appear to exchange heated words. There are four men standing around, all hanging back, as if too scared to say anything. Enrico goes into the garages, and then drives out in his Ferrari. Lorenzo taps on the car window and says something before Rico speeds off at a million miles an hour.

I exhale heavily.

I continue watching the men down on the front lawn. There’s Lorenzo, Maso, and two new ones today. I watch them for a moment when I realize one of them is the guy who asked for my number at the ball.

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.

His words from last night play on my mind.

It’s only a matter of time before they get me, too.

What did he mean by that? Who’s going to get him? Is that why there’s so much security around him? And me? Why am I guarded too now?

Maybe I’m in danger by association. To be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out.

I snap myself out of my worried thoughts and text Nat back.

Do you want to catch up for drinks and dinner?

Tomorrow after work?

She replies.

Sounds great, see you then.

I write:

Good luck today, babe.

Knock them dead.

It’s 2:00 p.m. when we pull into the driveway of Villa Oliviana in Lake Como. My fabric sample finding mission didn’t take all day like I expected. It’s amazing how quickly you can get things done when you have four personal assistants driving you everywhere. They all seem lovely, and we even stopped for lunch. The maintenance man is tinkering with the lock on the big iron gates, and they are off their hinges.

Lorenzo pulls the car to a stop in the driveway. He seems unimpressed that the work isn’t finished.

“I’ll just walk in,” I say.

“My apologies. It won’t take them long to put the gate back on,” he tells me.

“It’s a beautiful day. I’ll walk. Thanks for taking me today.” I smile.

He turns in his seat toward me. “You are most welcome.” His kind eyes hold mine, and I can tell he’s concerned about Rico and his grudge but doesn’t want to speak out of turn.

“I’m going to try and talk to Rico tonight,” I say.

He exhales heavily. “I only tried to protect him, Olivia.” He shakes his head sadly. “I love him like a son.”

“I know.” I reach forward and put my hand on his shoulder. “He’ll come around. He just needs some time.”

He shrugs as if knowing I’m right but he only half believes it.

I get out of the car and walk through the gates. I make my way up to the house. The gardens here truly are spectacular. I walk in through the large front doors. The wind catches them, and they slam harder than I thought.

“Oops.”

I walk into the living area and put my handbag onto the side table, and then something catches my eye at the top of the stairs.

Sergio is looking flustered and coming down the stairs.

“Hello, hello.” His face is flushed. “I thought you weren’t getting back till late?”

I frown. His demeanor is off, or maybe that’s just me being suspicious of him.

“What were you doing up there?” I ask.

He glances up the stairs. “I was checking one of the security shutters. It was making a crunching sound. The maintenance man wanted it checked so, if needed, he could fix it before he left.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I didn’t hear any crunching.”

“Manual mentioned it.” He smiles. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I feel a wave of discomfort sweep through me at being alone with him in the house. Especially after the look he gave me this morning.

Maybe I’m imagining this entire thing. Did he even give me a look?

“I’ll just be out the front if you need me,” he says before taking off through the front door.

I stare at the closed door he has disappeared through. I’m having a serious discussion with Rico about the amount of people around here. It’s like a revolving door with different people coming and going all the time. I hate it.

Manuel and his wife are different. They’re the caretakers and live on the property. But the rest of them, quite frankly, give me the creeps.

I walk into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and I slip my shoes off. What will I do with my early mark of an afternoon? I wish I was in Milan. I could have gone to the gym. Actually, I might use the gym here. Yeah why not? Rico isn’t going to be home until later. I may as well. I make my cup of tea and head up to get changed into my gym clothes. I smile when I walk into my wardrobe.

It’s pitiful. Three measly drawers are filled with my things, because that’s all I own. This walk-in is bigger than most people’s bathrooms. I open Rico’s wardrobe and see all his beautiful suits and designer clothes displayed perfectly. It’s like a shop. I look over his expensive watches and his aftershave. I count his shoes. Forty-three pairs!

“What man owns forty-three pairs of shoes?” I scoff. “That’s just ridiculous.”

I grab my gym clothes and walk into the bathroom, and I freeze. The tube of lubricant is on the sink as if it’s just been washed.

Wait…

I thought I put that back in Enrico’s side drawer this morning when I got out of bed specifically so that nobody would see it. We use it when we get super naughty, he’s too big and likes it too rough.

I open the lid of the clothes hamper and peer inside. There’s a lone pair of my panties sitting in the bottom. I reach in and dig them out. I did not put these in here.

I carefully inspect them… they’re dirty. These were in my suitcase with my other clothes that needed to be washed.

I look around the bathroom, knowing something is off here.

My eyes widen at once. What the fuck? Was Sergio in here jerking off to the smell of my dirty panties?

Is that what he was doing upstairs?

A cold shiver runs through me. No… surely not.

I drop to a sit on the bed—dirty panties in hand. This is fucking weird.

What guy would go into his boss’s bedroom and jerk off to his boss’s girlfriend’s panties?

My phone rings. It’s Natalie.

“Hey, how did you go?”

“Oh my God, I have to get this job. The guy who interviewed me is fucking orgasmic.”

I smile as I look down at the panties in my hand. “Really?”

“He looked like Elvis. Love me tender, baby.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re hilarious. What did he say?”

“He said he’s going to call me tonight and let me know if I got it.”

“Great. How do you think it went?”

“Good, I guess. When I wasn’t imagining myself sucking his dick under the table.”

I shake my head as I laugh. “Tell me I’m crazy over here. I need you to talk me off the ledge.” I close my bedroom door and go into the bathroom so that nobody can hear us.

She laughs. “No, I can’t do that. You are completely mental.”

“Listen, do you remember the other night when I told you that a guy asked me for my number, and then he said ‘I have to go, my boss is here’ and his boss was Enrico?” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he turned up here today to work, and his name is Sergio.”

“At the house in Como?”

“Yes, and he was giving me the look.”

“What look?”

“You know. The fucking look.”

“There are a lot of looks. I need specifics.”

“Like the I think you’re hot kind of look.”

“That’s a given. All guys give that look. They’re horny fucktards.”

I nod. This is true. “I got home early today, and the gate was being fixed, so I walked up the driveway by myself. When I came in, Sergio came out from upstairs.”

“Who?”

“The fucking guy I just told you about,” I whisper.

“He was inside your house?”

“Yes—said he was checking the shutters or some shit.”

“Okay, so?”

I look around guiltily. “I just came into the en-suite bathroom and the lubricant is out on the side, and my dirty panties are in the basket. I didn’t put them there.”

“Get fucked,” she whispers. “You think you interrupted him jerking off to your panties?”

“I… I don’t know,” I stammer. “Maybe?”

She gasps.

“I know,” I whisper.

“Oh, I know this is appalling for you, but that’s so fucking hot. Send him my way, I do love a kinky man.”

“What?” I whisper. “That’s not fucking hot, Natalie, that’s creepy.”

“How do you smell?” she asks. “I hope they smell good. Sniff them and see.”

I burst out laughing. “Will you be serious for one minute, please?” I look around again. “And, of course I smell good… I hope.”

“I’m sure Mr. Ferrara will love the thought of his staff sniffing your vag.”

I put my head into my hands and laugh. This really does sound ridiculous.

“Maybe I got it wrong.” I frown.

“Enrico could have put them there,” she offers as an explanation.

“I guess.”

“It is random.” she adds.

“It is random, isn’t it?”

“Completely.”

I drag my hand down my face. My imagination is running wild. “Okay, I’m going to go work out and do something useful.”

“Wash your undies.”

I laugh. “Yeah, that too. Bye. Call me if you get the job.”

“Okay, see you.”

It’s just after 5:00 p.m. when I walk into the house from the backyard. I’ve been keeping myself busy and trying not to imagine someone creeping around our bedroom, dick in hand. I’ve run on the treadmill, done our washing, and now I’m about to cook dinner. Antonia wanted to cook, but I told her I would like to cook.

Fuck this. I want a home not a football stadium. Things are changing around here.

I pour myself a glass of wine and take the chicken out of the fridge. I begin to chop it up. On a serious note, I really need to learn how to cook some good Italian food.

And speak Italian…

And do every fucking thing in Italian.

If I prepare dinner now it will give me a chance to freshen up before my man gets home.

There is so much to do and learn. God, this day is overwhelming.

The doorbell rings throughout the house.

I wash my hands, grab a tea towel, and walk out into the living area. It rings again.

I open the door to see a beautiful woman standing there. She’s wearing a tight camel- colored dress, with sky-high stilettos. Her long dark hair is styled and glamorous. Her rich perfume is overwhelming.

It’s the woman I saw Enrico with at lunch.

His madam. Sophia.

I’m instantly aware that I look like shit, and the blood drains from my face. I’m still in my gym clothes, with a messy bun on top of my head, wearing no makeup and completely barefoot.

I fake a smile. “Hello.”

A frown crosses her face as she looks me up and down. “Hello, my name is Sophia.”

I pull my T-shirt down. “I’m Olivia.” I look down at my damp hands and the tea towel I’m holding. “Can I help you?”

A trace of a smile tugs at her lips. “I’m here to see Enrico.”

Her Italian accent is heavenly.

“Um, he’s not home yet.”

“Can I wait?”

“I don’t know how long he’s going to be.”

She brushes past me into the house. “That’s fine. I don’t mind.”

I watch her march into the house. Rude. “Or that,” I whisper under my breath.

I close the door behind her and glance out to see three men leaning up against the parked cars. They are laughing and talking without a care in the world.

I feel my agitation rise as I walk back into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”

Oh shit, why did I offer her coffee? I don’t know how to work the stupid coffee machine.

Sophia glances down at my glass of wine. “I’ll have a glass of wine.”

Will you now? The word is please, bitch.

Yep, it’s official, this woman annoys me. I take another glass from the cupboard and pour her some wine.

“Thanks.” She fakes a smile as she looks me up and down.

“What are you doing here?”

She frowns. “I’m here to see Enrico, I already told you.”

“He was in his office in Milan all day.”

“This is of a personal matter.” She sips her wine.

“Anything I can help you with?” I smile sweetly.

Her eyes hold mine. “No.” She fakes a smile. “I need to speak to him… alone.”

Our eyes are locked.

Game on, mole. You may be gorgeous, sexy, a Madame, and Italian…

But he loves me, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.

I pick up the knife and go back to chopping the chicken.

“You cook?” she asks, amused.

“Don’t you?”

“No.” She lifts the wine glass to her lips. “And I most definitely wouldn’t if I had the staff that this house carries.”

I smirk.

“What’s that look for?” she asks.

“You think you’re above cooking?”

She flicks her hair behind her shoulders and gives a conceited shrug.

“That’s funny, because in your line of work I would have imagined that you’d be used to getting your hands dirty.” I smile sweetly.

Shit, did I say that out loud?

“What do you know about my line of work?” she fires back.

“Only what Enrico has told me. That you’re a Madame, and you work for him.”

She smiles. “And what else did Rico tell you about me?”

My hackles rise at her use of Rico as his name. “Everything,” I lie.

She lifts her chin in defiance. “So, he told you about the two of us?” She sips her wine and smiles sarcastically.

I get a vision of myself diving over the counter and strangling this whorebag.

Our eyes are locked.

“He did, actually,” I lie.

I chop the chicken with force, imagining it’s her head on the chopping block.

Hurry up and get home, fucker.

I knew he was sleeping with her.

She smirks. “Can I use the bathroom? I would like to freshen up. Where is it?”

I’ll freshen you up, bitch. I’ll flush your damn head down the toilet. Lucky for me, I’m in my activewear, because this could be an all-out brawl soon.

“Behind you to the left.” I point with the knife.

I continue chopping when she disappears. Hmm, she didn’t know where the bathroom was, which means she hasn’t been here before. Good. This is her first and last visit.

The front door opens, and I keep chopping. This place is like a fucking airport. Great, probably another woman from his whorebag harem.

“Hello, my love.” I hear Rico’s deep voice from behind me, and I turn. He drops his briefcase and rushes to take me into his arms. He holds me tight, tighter than usual and it’s clear that he’s upset.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.

He holds my face in his hands, and his lips take mine. “It’s been a long day,” he eventually murmurs against my lips.

“Hello, Enrico,” Sophia says from behind us.

Rico jumps back from me in surprise, and his face falls.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growls.

Oh shit. My eyes widen as I look between them both.

“I… I came to see you,” she stammers, shocked by his obvious anger.

He glares at her like a hunter. “Get out,” he orders through gritted teeth.

“Rico,” I say quietly. God, this is a bit extreme.

“How dare you come here?” he cries.

“I wanted to see if you were all right,” she says.

“Liar. You came here to intimidate my fiancée. Tell the fucking truth.”

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.”