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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“Well.” I walk out of the bedroom and down the big grand staircase. “Things are going well with Enrico.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“I’ve been staying with him at his house in Lake Como.”

“Oh, isn’t that where the rich and famous live?”

I shrug, embarrassed and completely unsure how to warn her about him. “Yeah.” I try to sound casual. “His parents come from money. Lots of family businesses and things. He does alright too for himself.” I wince, does alright for himself is the understatement of the year.

“Is he being nice?”

“Yes, mum.” I roll my eyes.

“I’ve heard these Italian men can be very possessive when they want to be.”

I smirk, she hit the nail on the head. “He’s lovely, mum. I really like him.” I smile broadly. “In fact, I think I might be in love him.”

“Oh Olivia, let’s just see how it goes,” she sighs as she senses heartbreak. “Don’t go giving your heart to anyone just yet. It’s only early days.”

“I know.” I scrunch my eyes shut, it’s too late. He has my entire heart in his suit pocket at his disposal.

“How’s work going?” I ask. Last time I spoke to her she was hating on her boss. “Is Gerrard still being a micro manager?”

“Oh god yes, he’s going around the twist.”

Mum has worked for the same man for thirty years as his personal assistant, he’s in his eighties now and becoming senile. “Maybe he’ll retire soon?” I smile.

“I wish, I’ve been hanging on for five years in hope.”

“You can just find another job you know?” I remind her.

“Oh, I couldn’t leave him, he needs me.”

I smile, that’s mum, loyal to a tee. It makes me sad that she let my father’s shortcomings taint her view on men. She never has really trusted anyone since him.

No one has ever come close to measuring up except for short dating bouts, she has been mostly alone over the years.

It’s a shame because she of all people deserves to be adored.

“Do you need to go to the doctor about your cold?” I ask.

“No, I’m on the mend, I’m fine.”

“Okay, I’ll call you later.”

“Good bye, love. I’m glad you sound so happy.”

I smile broadly. “Me too.”

Enrico

I walk through the club with the three security team staff with Maso directing them.

“We need a camera system that instantly links back to base at our security office upstairs. See this, here? This isn’t good enough coverage,” Maso continues as he shows them around.

We’ve gone over the strategies, and they are now working through the placement of the cameras.

Sophia and I trail behind.

“Do you want to grab some lunch while they work this out?” Sophia asks. “I’m famished.”

I glance at my watch and see it’s 2:00 p.m.

I’m hungry, too.

“Yeah, sure. Maso?” I interrupt. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” He keeps walking and talking with the men.

Sophia and I leave the club and make our way across the road into a restaurant.

It’s awkward between us. We’ve hardly spoken since I kicked her out of my bed in the middle of the night.

We take a seat by the window and I order a scotch. She orders a glass of wine. We sit in silence for a while, and I lean back in my seat… waiting for it.

“You met someone?”

Here we go. “I told you I had.”

“Who is she?”

“You don’t know her.”

Her eyes hold mine. She stays silent, and it makes me feel like a prick.

“We used to date a few years back. She has recently come back to me.”

“And you care for her?”

“Yes. I really don’t want to sit here and explain myself to you, Sophia.”

“I want to know why.”

“I met someone and want to be with her. End of story.”

She runs her fingers through her hair. I watch her. She’s a beautiful woman—Italian to the bone with long, dark hair and a gorgeous, curvy figure. With her long, red nails, and her stilettos, she’s always perfectly made up.

“We were never like that, Soph, and you know that,” I remind her softly.

“What will she be to you?”

“I am only taking her.”

She frowns, confused. I have never been loyal to only one woman before.

“She will—”

“Yes,” I cut her off. “I am only having her. I don’t want anybody else.”

“Where is she from? Milan?”

I roll my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here. I have to get through this conversation. Sophia is good at her job and I need her. We need to be amicable. “She’s from Australia.”

Her face falls. “Australia. She’s Australian?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God, Enrico,” she whispers, full of horror. “A man with your bloodline cannot date a common criminal from Australia.”

I sip my scotch as my anger begins to grow deep in my stomach.

“You know that, don’t you?” she continues. “Australia’s colony started from the English sending their convicts there.”

“Criminals for stealing food for their children,” I sneer. “Not quite the crime we Italians are accustomed to, now, is it?” I raise my glass to her sarcastically.


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