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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My heart wants me to call him so that he can come over and make us better—so he can hold me and tell me that he’s never leaving. I want to be warm and safe in his arms.

My brain wants to bomb his office for daring to think that I would be his mistress.

He drew a line in the sand last night, and now I know what kind of man I’m in love with. A womanizing pimp who sleeps with his whores. One who has zero respect for me.

I want to pack up and go home to Australia, but I know I can’t. I won’t let a man ruin everything in my life. Nobody has that power. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, but honestly, who cares about the job if it costs me my sanity to stay here? Is the job even really fucking mine? I got it at his request.

I can’t be here in Milan with him and his Italian wife. I’ll choke on my own fucking vomit.

“Is everything all right?” the waiter asks as he looks down at my untouched coffee and breakfast.”

“Yes, thank you.” I pick up my knife and fork. “I’m eating now.”

He smiles, pretending not to notice my swollen eyes, and he puts his hand on top of mine as it sits on the table, knowing I need comfort. Unexpectedly, my eyes fill with tears at his kindness. “Are you all right?” he asks softly.

“Yes.” I nod as I fumble around in my bag for a tissue. “I will be.” I dab my eyes and drop my head in shame. He leaves me alone and I go back to staring into space.

I’ve hit rock bottom.

I’m on the other side of the world from home, alone, and heartbroken.

I get a vision of Enrico and the week we have spent together, laughing and making love, and it only makes it worse.

I can’t even hate him.

“Fucking hell,” Natalie whispers as she rests her cheek on her fist. Her eyes are glued to mine, and she softly shake of her head. “I can’t believe this.”

I’ve just dropped the bombshell. It’s Tuesday night, and I am relaying the Ferrara fuckface chronicles to Nat as we eat at our favorite restaurant.

“I can,” I sigh sadly. “Think about it, Nat. It never really did add up. Something was always amiss. If he wanted me in the true sense, he would have come for me in Australia. It’s not like money was ever an object.”

Her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I swipe them away angrily.

“I just feel like a fool, Nat.” I stare out over the people in the restaurant. “What’s that old saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I’m so embarrassed about the whole thing that I can’t even tell Giorgio. I feel like an idiot. I’ll just tell him in a few weeks when I’m stronger and not at risk of crying like a baby.” I shake my head. “I should have known better than to trust my stupid heart.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that bitch sure is tapped.”

I smile sadly. “Enough depressing talk about rich pricks. Tell me all about your man.”

Nat twists her lips. “Meh, I’m kind of off him, to be honest.”

“What? Already? I thought you liked him.”

“He got all needy and stuff.” She fakes a shiver.

I giggle and put my head into my hands. “What the hell is wrong with us, Nat? Every guy you date is too nice. Every guy I date is a fucktard.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “He’s got one more weekend to toughen up. If he’s still being pathetic, he’s gone.” She dusts her hands together.

I smile. “Poor bastard.”

We fall serious, and her eyes hold mine. “So, what are you going to do now?”

I exhale heavily. “Forget I ever met him… again.”

My phone rings and I pick up with a sad smile. “Hi Mum.” I always hate talking to my mum when I’m feeling blue. It’s like she has a sixth sense and can tell what’s going on with me from wherever she is in the world.

“How are you?” I ask, faking happiness.

“I’m good darling, missing you. How is everything going?”

“Great,” I lie, my heart drops, it’s actually the polar opposite.

My life is a total mess, I’ve cried myself to sleep the entire week.

“And how’s the romance going?”

My stomach drops…. romance? Ha, what a joke? He wanted me to be his mistress and fuck me behind his wife’s back. I close my eyes, the reality of telling my mother that yet another relationship has failed is just too hard at the moment, I’ll tell her when I’m stronger. “It’s going good. Ticking along.”

“Oh, exciting, this could be the one, love.”

My eyes fill with tears, I thought so too. “I doubt it, mum,” I sigh. “It’s just a holiday thing, don’t get excited.”


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