by T L Swan
Damn him.
What’s he doing here?
Is this how it’s going to be in Milan? Every time I walk out of the door I run into his building, his workers, or worse… him.
Just the sight of him infuriates me.
I finish up in the bathroom, wash my hands, and I reapply my red lipstick. I tuck my boobs back into my dress and turn to look at my behind in the mirror. Suddenly, it’s become super important that I look amazing.
I’ll show the bastard what he missed out on.
Go out there, have a fun night and don’t even look his way, don’t give him the satisfaction of even glancing toward him, I tell myself as I smooth my dress down.
I stare at the blonde in the mirror.
To the outside world, she looks so put together. What a joke that is. Little do they know I’m still thinking about a man who treated me abysmally two years ago. I can’t get him out of my head no matter how hard I try. Seeing him yesterday or should I say fighting with him yesterday seems to have opened up old wounds. I feel raw and open, it’s as if he has just left me in the police station.
What’s wrong with me?
I just need to snap out of it, as soon as Natalie gets here it will be much easier. I’ll have a friend and a social life. To hell with Enrico Ferrara.
With a deep exhale, I drop my shoulders and leave the bathroom. I take a wrong turn and arrive at a doorway on the other side of the ballroom.
Near his table.
I stop and watch him for a moment. He’s smiling and talking to the people he’s sitting with. I watch him pick up his scotch and take a sip, and my stomach clenches.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
The beautiful woman next to him says something. He listens to her and then laughs out loud.
Is she his date?
She has long dark hair and is exotically beautiful. But he didn’t arrive with her.
He came alone.
Stop it. Who the hell cares if she’s his date?
I know I should stop watching him like a stalker from the corridor, but I can’t make myself. My feet won’t move.
A man walks up behind him, puts his hand on his shoulders, and says something. Rico smiles broadly before he stands and the two of them shake hands.
He’s so much taller than everyone around him, and muscular, but it’s the unbridled power that comes from within him that draws me in.
Is the weirdest thing.
It’s like he has this magnet inside of his body and I have the other magnet inside of mine.
Every instinct inside of me wants to walk over to him and take him in my arms.
But then I remember that he’s an asshole and I can’t.
I drop my gaze to the floor.
Go back to your table, Olivia, you’re pathetic.
His loud laugh surrounds me. I glance back up to see him greeting a woman. He leans in and kisses her on the cheek. Who’s she?
With a disgusted shake of my head, I go back out into the corridor and make my way around to the other side of the ballroom. I eventually take a seat.
Giorgio smiles over at me. “You all right, darling?”
“I’m fine.”
He passes me my glass of champagne. “I propose a toast.”
“What to this time?”
His eyes dance with delight. “Same as last time.”
“To making men jealous?”
He winks. “Would be such a shame to be in that dress and not make a man jealous, don’t you think?”
I smirk. “What exactly are you talking about, Giorgio?”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I know that you have men circling this table watching you. Use it to your advantage.”
I don’t know what he’s up to, but I like his thinking. “Perhaps you’re right. Why don’t you introduce me to some of your friends?”
He pushes his chair back with a big smile and holds his hand out to mine.
“This way, darling.” Giorgio leads me through the crowded ballroom and over to the bar where a group of five men stand. “Gentlemen, may I introduce Olivia Reynolds. I adore her. She recently started with Valentino and is new to Milan.”
“Hello.” They all smile, and one by one they introduce themselves and kiss me on the cheek. They’re all breaking their neck as they try to talk to me, and we fall into a conversation about my work and where I’m from. They’re all similar ages to me, and quite good looking, too. Perhaps it’s the black dinner suits talking.
Can any man be ugly in a dinner suit? I don’t think so.
Giorgio gives me a not so subtle wink before he discretely moves to the bar.
Snake. I’ll kill him later.
For ten minutes, I stand and talk politely. One man in particular named Pedro has taken a liking to me.
The group falls silent, and I glance up from Pedro to see Enrico has approached the group. “Enrico, my friend,” one of the men greets him nervously.
They all shake his hand, while I sip my champagne. His eyes eventually find mine. “Hello, Olivia.”
“Hello.”
The men’s eyes all widen as they look between us, realizing we know each other.
I try to talk to Pedro again but Enrico holds his gaze across the circle, and Pedro becomes flustered. “I’m going to the bar,” he announces suddenly.
“Yes, I’ll come,” offers another man.
“Yes, I need to get back to my table,” someone else mutters.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” another says.
Suddenly, I’m left alone with Rico. Wimps.
Enrico steps toward me. “Hello.” His voice is velvety and deep.
I squeeze my champagne glass so tight that it may smash in my hand.
His eyes drop down my body, and then back up to my face. “You look breathtaking.”
My stomach clenches. “Thanks.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Many things.”
That damn electricity crackles in the air between us again.
“You asked me yesterday why I left you in the police station two years ago,” he says quietly.
My heart stops. “Yes.”
He opens his mouth to speak.
“Here you are.” Giorgio smiles. “Rico, darling, it’s been too long, my friend. Where have you been hiding?” He grabs Rico’s hand and kisses him on both cheeks. They hug.
“You’re interrupting us,” Enrico tells Giorgio as his eyes come back to mine.
“What’s new? I’m always interrupting you.” Giorgio laughs, and I can tell he and Enrico are friends. He isn’t scared of him like the other men are. “Olivia, our entrees are at our table, sweetheart.” He pulls me by the hand. “Goodbye, Rico, we shall talk later, darling.”
Giorgio pulls me back to our table, and I glance back to see Enrico glaring after us, unimpressed that I’ve left our conversation unfinished. Damn it, I wanted to know what he was going to say. Not that it would make any difference, but still.
We take a seat, and Giorgio smiles over at me like the cat that got the cream.
“Our entrees aren’t at the table.” I smirk. I’m not discussing Enrico Ferrara with him, but I have sneaking suspicion that he already knows.
Giorgio’s eyes hold mine. “How many times do we need to toast before I teach you the lesson, Olivia?”
“Am I a bad student?” I smile and raise my glass to his.
“The worst.”
Three hours later, I spin around on the dancefloor with Giorgio.
“Thank you for bringing me tonight, I’ve had fun.” I’m not lying, either. We’ve laughed and talked. I’ve met a lot of new people, and it has honestly been fun.
“The formalities are over now. Shall we go soon?” he asks.
“Yes, it is a school night.”
He smiles down at me. “Did I tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress yet?”
“A few times.” I giggle.
“You wear
it better than our models. Maybe you could be the next Valentino girl.”
“Ha.” I laugh out loud. “I will need to lose twenty pounds before I would even fit into the sample.”
“Can I cut in?” a deep voice asks. We turn to see Enrico standing beside us.
“Why, of course you can.” Giorgio smiles and steps aside.
Enrico takes me in his arms. He pulls me close, and my body awakens from her dormant sleep.
Shit…
We sway to the music for a moment as I hold my breath. If I inhale, I’m sure to smell his pheromones—the ones that make me weak at the knees. He towers above me, one hand on my lower back holding me close to his body. The other is holding my hand.
“I had forgotten how good you feel in my arms.” He smiles down at me as everyone around us disappears.
That look… I had forgotten it.
I gently ease my body back from his but he pulls me close again.
“Don’t pull away from me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He leans closer, his lips resting on my temple, and I begin to feel a warmth seep into my bones.
He feels so good.
“What were you going to say before?” I ask. “When we were at the bar, you started saying something.”
“Does it really matter now?”
“It does to me. I…” I stop myself from speaking.
“Can I see you tomorrow night?”
I stop dancing.
He moves my body with his hands, and I begin to dance again.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head. “Why would I want to see you after last time?”
“It was out of my control before.”
I roll my eyes.
“I never left you in a prison to rot.”
“That’s exactly what you did.”
“I ensured you had the best legal team available. It was all that I could do at the time.”
I stop, angered at his piss poor excuse. “That’s not good enough. Whatever. This is pointless.” I pull out of his arms. “Rico, I told you to stay away from me.”
He pulls me close again. “Don’t go,” he whispers. His lips drop to my temple, and I close my eyes at the feel of him there.
“It was a very bad time for me, Olivia. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Why?” I breathe.
“The day I put you onto the plane to Sorrento, my father and grandfather were killed in a car accident.”
I stop dancing and stare up at him. “On that very day?”
He clenches his jaw. “I got the call as I was leaving the airport.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to burden your trip. I was someone you had just met.”
I watch him struggle with this conversation. This subject is obviously hard.
“Every time you called me that week, I was with a lawyer or my grieving mother. The timing was all wrong, and then everything got too hard.”
My heart hurts. “I could have helped you,” I whisper up at him.
He pulls me close, and we dance for a moment. Regret swirls between us.
“I saw you with that man and I…” His voice trails off.
“I’m not on Tinder. That was my first date, Rico. You know me. I’m not like that.”
He pulls me closer. We don’t speak, we just sway to the music. After just one excuse and five minutes of dancing, I feel myself melting against his body.
Mafiosi.
He isn’t good for me.
Nothing about Enrico Ferrara is good for me.
His questionable lifestyle, his money….and the hold he has over my wimpy heart is one big recipe for disaster.
“Can we go for a drink after this? I would like to talk to you,” he says quietly.
I stare up at his handsome face. “No, Rici,” I whisper sadly. I wish things were different. “It’s too late.”
He stops dancing. “You said that our story was just beginning.” His eyes search mine.
“That was before you burned the book.”
Our eyes are locked, the music finishes, and everyone claps while I step back from him.
“Olivia.”
“Goodbye,” I whisper.
His gaze drops to the floor, and before I cave, I turn and quickly walk back to my table.
Giorgio smiles as I arrive, and we both turn to see Enrico leave the ballroom in a rush.
My stomach drops.
Giorgio watches him leave and then turns to me. “Why do you think you’re in Italy, Olivia?”
I turn to him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Your application was successful in New York.”
I frown. “What?”
“You got the job in New York—the first one you applied for.”
“Then why did I end up in Milan?”
“Mr. Ferrara sent for you.” I stare at him, lost for words. “I brought you here at his request.”
“What?” I splutter. Horror dawns. “So, my whole job is a sham?”
“No.” He puts his arm around me. “Darling, you got that position fair and square, and I got them to hold the position in New York for three months in case things don’t work out here.”
I stare at him. “Why would you do that?”
“For Rico.”
“He asked you to send for me?”
“Yes.”
The room spins. “But why?”
He chuckles as he picks up my purse and hands it to me. He links my hand around his arm and leads me toward the door. “Connect the dots, sweetheart. It seems Enrico Ferrara has a tendre for you.”
We walk out of the front door and straight into the back of a waiting cab. I stare out of the window as the taxi pulls out into the street.
“I haven’t seen him for two years, Giorgio.”
“And yet, he hasn’t forgotten you.”
I stare at Giorgio, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. “He’s an asshole.”
He smiles and puts his arm around me. “They all are, darling.”
“I can’t believe you’re here already.” I smile across the table at Natalie.
“My boss decided he didn’t want me to work my notice, and then the airline had a half price special for this week only. I had nothing holding me back. May as well get here so I can start looking for work.”
“I’m so excited you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
It’s Saturday night, and in an unexpected turn of events, Natalie has arrived in Milan earlier than we expected. We’re in a cocktail bar and we have just had dinner. We’re going clubbing tonight after this to celebrate.
Natalie frowns. “So, tell me this story again. I’m confused.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” I sip my margarita. “Apparently, Enrico asked for my job to be in Milan instead of New York.”
“How does he have that pull?”
“I don’t know, he’s friends with Giorgio and, well… there are stories about him being the head of the Mafiosi,” I whisper.
“The mafia?” she gasps out loud.
“Shh.” I look at the people around us, hoping nobody heard. “Keep your voice down.”
“What do the stories say?”
I wave my drink in the air as I try to articulate myself. “That the Ferrara family has been linked to Mafiosi, but nothing has ever been proven or any charges laid.” I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s some fucked up shit that I can’t make head nor tails of.”
“Oh, that’s crap,” she huffs. “As if you would listen to the internet. Anyone can load something onto Wikipedia, Olivia.”
“But he is really, really rich, Nat. Like horse’s head rich.”
“Because all rich Italians must be criminals, right?” She rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the 1940s, Liv. He probably just comes from a really smart family.”
“You think?’
“It’s a lot more plausible than the frigging mafia rumors.
Didn’t you say his brother was a doctor and that he was a policeman?”
“Yeah.” I sip my drink, fascinated with her theory.
“Since when have you ever seen a policeman and a doctor in the fucking mafia?”
“True.”
“Oh, hang on.” She holds up her hand. “I can’t kill criminals today, I’m in heart surgery.”
We giggle. “It does sound ridiculous when you say it like that.”
“But then he sent for you.”
I smile softly. I hate to admit it, but I love that he sent for me.
“He must have been thinking about you all this time.”
“I don’t know. He asked to see me the other night and when I said no, he left in a huff.”
“You haven’t heard from him since?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm.” She purses her lips. “What about how his father died on the day you left?”
“I know.”
“This is like a movie or something. El Caspase Blanco.”
“Is that a movie?” I frown.
“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. Something like that.” She sips her drink. “I mean, you thought he hated you. He was broken. Huge misunderstanding. He sends for you two years later.” She puts her hands over her heart and bats her eyelashes. “My faith in romance has been restored.”
I stare at her, deadpan. “He’s still an asshole.”
“Totally, but at least now you can fuck him without regret.”
I grab her hand over the table. “Nat, thank you for coming to stay to Milan for me. It means the world.”
“Baby, I’m not here for you. I’m totally here for the men.”
Two hours later,
The club is pumping. The dance music is as loud as can be, and we are outside on the terrace. Inside there’s a large dance area, three or four bars, and a second lounge area. Outside here is a marquee, a big pool and bar area, and it’s not as crowded as inside.
“God, will you look at this place?” Nat whispers.
“It’s something else.”
There’s beautiful people everywhere, and fairly lights light up the sky. “This will be where all the cool people hang,” Nat says.
“Yeah, I guess.” I smile as I glance up at the door in time to see Enrico walk through to the outside bar, with two men ahead of him.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Natalie looks over in the direction of where I’m looking. “What?”
