The Italian

by T L Swan

  “That’s your boat?” I ask him.

  “Yes.” He continues toward it. “Come, Olivia.”

  It’s huge, white, and I count the floors by the rows of windows. One, two, three, four… five. It’s a five-fucking story boat.

  Are you serious?

  There are five staff waiting at the boarding gate to welcome us aboard, and Rico shakes their hand as he boards.

  “Please meet Olivia,” he tells them. “Dote on her this weekend.”

  The captain smiles and nods. “Yes, sir.” He turns and shakes my hand. I feel like the queen or something and slipping into the sea with embarrassment. I go along the line and shake everyone’s hand as Rico leads me onto the boat… yacht… whatever the hell this thing is.

  He turns back to them. “We would like privacy all weekend.”

  The captain nods. “Yes, sir, of course.”

  The deck is made of beautiful, light timber, and huge deckchairs face out to the ocean. The entire level is glass, and when we get to the doors, I stop still again.

  What the fuck?

  There’s a grand living area filled with big luxurious couches and a mini grand piano. The carpet is a gorgeous coffee color, and chandeliers hang wherever possible. I look over to the stairs golden balustrade, and I see a glass elevator sitting to the right of it.

  An elevator? On a boat?

  Are you freaking kidding me?

  “Come, Olivia,” Rico says casually, holding his hand out for me. “We will put our bags in our room.” He begins to walk up the stairs.

  “There’s a bedroom?” I whisper as I stop on the bottom step.

  I look out of the huge glass windows to see the twinkling city lights dancing on the water.

  Rico smiles down at me. “There are eight.”

  “Eight bedrooms?” I squeak. “Are you kidding me?”

  He chuckles and comes back down the stairs to grab my hand.

  “This way.”

  He leads me up two sets of stairs before he opens up a huge set of black doors. My mouth falls open. It’s the master bedroom suite. There’s a huge king bed in the center, and the room is made entirely of glass on all sides with the most breathtaking views over Monte Carlo. I look out onto the deck below to see a full-sized swimming pool there with a bar and lounge chairs.…what the actual fuck?

  “A pool?” I gasp.

  Rico laughs. “A pool.”

  I walk into the bathroom to find a huge sunken spa bath in the center, the walls and floors are all white marble.

  “Holy shit. This is unbelievable. Who knew that boats looked like this?” My eyes find his.

  He walks over, closes the bedroom door, and then flicks the lock. “Alone at last.” Like a predator, he steps toward me, and my stomach dances with nerves.

  “I like your boat,” I breathe.

  “I like you.” He bends to lick the length of my neck, and he bites my ear. Goosebumps scatter up my arms. “Now you can have a shower.” He takes off his suit jacket and throws it onto the chair.

  I close my eyes. The heat from his tongue steals my ability to think. He leads me into the bathroom and turns the shower on. Steam begins to fill the room, and in one swift movement, he lifts my dress over my head.

  I stand before him in white lace underwear. His hungry eyes drop down my body. “I’ve waited all week to have you.” He unclips my bra and slides my panties down my legs.

  I stand before him, naked and vulnerable. “Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”

  He smiles darkly and unbuttons his shirt. My chest constricts when I see his broad chest and dark hair. He kicks his shoes off before he unfastens his trousers and slides them down. I’m blessed with the sight of his cock hanging hard between his legs. A smile crosses my face, and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting out words of praise. I need to try and remain cool here. I can’t be his fan girl, but it’s pretty damn hard to stop myself when he’s so fucking gorgeous.

  Our lips connect, and he walks me into the shower. The hot water tingles my skin. He pins me to the wall, lifts me, and then in one sharp movement he impales me deep. His cock jerks, and we stare at each other in awe.

  “I like your shower,” I whisper.

  He smiles darkly. “I’m about to get you dirty in it.”

  Hours later

  The room is warm and the steam rises in puffs. It’s late, long after a respectable bedtime but we can’t seem to go to sleep.

  I smile at the man sitting opposite me in the bath. His hair is wet, hanging sexily over his forehead. His legs are spread, and my feet are resting on his chest. We’ve been in here for an hour. We keep letting the water out as it goes cold and topping it back up.

  “We need a bigger bath,” he sighs.

  “I think it’s the largest you can get.” I smile dreamily.

  It’s perfect. I’m in a steamy hot bath with a sex god. I mean, what else is there in life?

  “Tell me about your family?” he says to me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “You said your parents got divorced when you were young.”

  “Yes.” I pick up a sponge and squeeze the water out of it. “They did.”

  “Why?”

  “My father had an affair. He…” I pause. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about this. “He was in love with someone else and… he left us.”

  Enrico picks up my foot and kisses it, not saying anything in response.

  “It changed me. I’ve never been the same since.”

  “Why not?”

  “A piece of my love for my father died with his admission.” I splash the water up over my breasts as I think back to my painful childhood. “I felt like my whole life was a lie. If he didn’t love my mum, how could he possibly love me?”

  Enrico watches me intently.

  “I remember crying myself to sleep, wishing I’d been better behaved because then he wouldn’t have left us.”

  He picks my foot up and kisses it again.

  “I’ll never understand how a person could be married to someone and have feelings for someone else,” I sigh. “I mean, how can that happen?” I sigh.

  We stay silent for a while.

  “He’s definitely not you,” I add.

  “Meaning what?”

  “Ferrara’s marry for life.” I smile softly. “Remember when you told me that?”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “It was one of the most honorable things any man has ever said to me.” I smile.

  His eyes hold mine as his face falls.

  “Dad went on to marry some other woman. He didn’t even marry the woman he left us for.”

  “He didn’t leave you,” he says.

  “He did. He left us because my mother was never the same, either. She went a little crazy herself, dating every man that looked her way.”

  He runs his hands up my legs as he listens.

  “As soon as they brought other people into their lives, it felt like my brother and I didn’t matter to them anymore. I know we did, deep down, but they had a separate life to us then—one we weren’t included in. A secret society for lovers. Children weren’t invited. I knew they both looked forward to their weekends without us so that they could do what they wanted with their new flings. I always felt in the way, and so did my brother.”

  Enrico exhales heavily.

  “I’m not going to be like them,” I whisper. “Over my dead body will I ever be like them.”

  “Is that why you don’t sleep around?”

  I think on that for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not wired like that. I have to really feel something to want to have sex with someone.”

  “You sleep with me.”

  “It’s the weirdest thing. I feel like I know you,” I whisper.

  Our eyes lock.

  “Have you ever had that feeling that you already know someone, but you don’t?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He smiles softl
y. “I have it with you. I had it from the moment we met.”

  I sit up in a rush, and water sloshes everywhere. I lie over his broad body, and his hands come to my behind. “Maybe we were lovers in ancient Roman times.”

  He grabs my face and smiles against my lips. “I know we were.”

  I smile up at my partner as he twirls me around the dance floor.

  The room is lit by candlelight, and there are beautiful people everywhere.

  The mood is sultry and romantic, like my outfit. I’m wearing a smoky gray backless dress with spaghetti straps that falls to the floor. It’s Valentino, of course. Giorgio really has injected some serious sexiness into my wardrobe. Not that I’m complaining.

  Rico is wearing a black dinner suit. We are in the swankiest restaurant club I’ve ever seen. We’ve had the most amazing day. We woke up late and had a lazy breakfast. After that, Rico took me sightseeing, we’ve laughed and talked and my poor heart may never recover. Having his undivided attention has been perfect in every way. He’s different here—more relaxed. Only a few men are trailing behind us. I didn’t realize how different it is for Enrico in Italy. He has a reputation to uphold there. Everyone double takes when they see him, he is so well known. Here, he can go relatively unnoticed.

  This afternoon we went back to the yacht. We made love and drank cocktails on the deck as the sun set over the water.

  This is living.

  Monte Carlo is beyond incredible. I now know why it’s known as the playground for the rich and wealthy.

  It’s the weirdest thing, when I’m with Enrico, I don’t feel out of place. Wherever he belongs, I do, too.

  I smile up at him as he moves us to the music.

  Wearing his black dinner suit, Enrico’s back is rigid, and his hand is at a respectable height on my waist. Always the perfect gentleman in public—polite and respectful— but he’s always the Devil in private.

  He’s two versions of the same song. The good and the bad. I like the good in him, but it’s the bad that I love. He brings out the bad in me, and I happen to love this new version of myself. I’m keeping her.

  A song comes on, and I smile as soon as I hear it. “I love this song,” I say. “It’s called ‘Someone You Loved.’”

  He frowns as he listens. “Hmm. Not my taste.”

  “Why not?” I laugh. “It’s a beautiful song.”

  He spins me to the music. “It’s about a man having his heart broken. It’s a sad song.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t want to dance with you to a sad song. I don’t feel in the least bit sad. Quite the opposite, actually.”

  I smile up at my man, his big brown eyes look down at me. Everyone else in the room disappears. “Tell me something about you,” I whisper.

  “Like what?”

  “Tell me something I don’t know yet.”

  He thinks for a moment as we sway to the music. “I hated being away from you this week,” he murmurs softly.

  “You did?”

  “I had to force myself every day not to come home to you.” I put my head onto his chest and smile against him. He pulls me closer and kisses my temple. “Are you ready to go home, my love?”

  My love.

  “I am so ready.”

  The plane comes to a slow stop on the tarmac at Milan airport, and Rico inhales deeply, as if steeling himself for what’s to come.

  Once given the go ahead by the captain, he stands, and I watch him walk around the cabin, talking to Lorenzo, who happens to be multitasking on the phone. Lorenzo seems to be his right-hand man, and most of the details are managed by him. He’s a good-looking man in his mid-fifties, at a guess. He’s handsome and obviously proud. He and the other men speak only Italian to Rico and each other. I’m unsure if they can even understand me. If they can’t, they’ve given me no indication other than a polite nod when I look their way.

  I sit and stare out of the window. It’s 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night.

  What an amazing weekend.

  Work tomorrow, though. Ugh. I could live on that yacht for all of eternity and never miss a thing.

  Rico comes back to me. “Are you ready, Olivia?”

  My heart drops. I’m Olivia again now. He’s back to being guarded. I much prefer my private man to the one he shows the world.

  He takes my hand and helps me out of my seat. I see a black SUV drive onto the tarmac.

  Lorenzo bends to look out of the window.

  “L’auto è qui.” Translation: the car is here.

  “Ok. Andiamo.” Translation: okay let’s go.

  Rico presses his hand on the small of my back and leads me from the plane. We are ushered into the back of the car.

  “Il mio appartamento.” Translation: my apartment.

  “Where are we going?” I whisper.

  Rico takes my hand and squeezes it on his lap. “My place.”

  “Where is this place?” I mutter as I walk down the street with my heavy garment bag.

  Damn this, I now know why nobody else jumped at the opportunity.

  It’s Monday, and today, at work, some dresses needed to be put in at the dry cleaners on the other side of town. I offered to do it, thinking it would get me out of the office for a while. I got dropped off by the cab three blocks too early, and now I have to walk a mile.

  The sequins on these stupid dresses weigh a ton, and my arm is killing me. I sling it over my shoulder and continue to look at the map on my phone. It says it’s five hundred meters away now.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I look back up at the road in front of me and stop still.

  Enrico just walked out of a restaurant with a woman. He’s wearing a dark navy suit, and he looks every bit the Playboy millionaire.

  The woman is beautiful with long, thick dark hair. She’s wearing a fitted grey dress with a plunging neckline and high heels. She has big maroon lips, and her makeup looks perfect. Her Prada bag is tucked securely over her arm.

  He has his hand at the small of her back and he is talking to her as he leads her out to a car. He says something. She laughs and kisses his cheek before he opens the door of the black Mercedes and she gets in.

  He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in. They pull out and drive away, still deep in conversation.

  I watch the car as it disappears down the street.

  Who the fuck was that?

  16

  Olivia

  I stand on the spot for a moment as I watch the car disappear with my man and a beautiful woman inside. I’m not sure if I’m in shock or disbelief. Probably both.

  Don’t be stupid. It’s his sister or something. It has to be. Enrico’s not a sleazebag. I know he isn’t.

  I struggle down the street with the heavy garment bag, my mind running wild. Maybe I should just call him and put my mind to rest. Yes, I’ll do that.

  I take out my phone and have another thought. He doesn’t touch me in public.

  Is there a reason?

  A sick, suspicious feeling washes over me, and my heart begins to race.

  Is he married? Of course, he isn’t married.

  Fuck.

  “Don’t be dramatic,” I whisper, spotting the dry cleaners up ahead. I drop the bag off and return to work by taxi, with every conspiracy theory running through my mind.

  He took me away this weekend. I thought it was to be romantic. What if he was hiding me?

  I’ve been so hypnotized by his company that I haven’t asked any questions.

  Is he with somebody else? Is that why he didn’t call me in Australia and ask me to come here for him?

  No. He’s not.

  Ferraras marry for life.

  I go over our weekend together. The laughing, the making love, and the closeness we shared.

  Just get back to work and stop thinking the worst. There is a completely logical explanation.

  We’ll see what happens tonight when I ask him.

  It’s 8:00 p.m., and I’m waiting for Enrico to knock on my door. />
  He called me earlier and said he was working late.

  Was he?

  I played dumb. I want to see his face when I bring it up. I’m still convinced that this is all in my head, but my gut feeling is setting off alarm bells.

  Something is going on. There are just too many holes in our time away from each other and what he’s told me about himself. I have questions that have had me pacing back and forth in my room for the last two hours.

  Knock, knock.

  This is it. I open the door in a rush.

  Enrico’s sexy eyes hold mine. “Hello, bella.”

  My heart skips a beat at the sight of him. “Hi.”

  He leans in and kisses me before he takes me into his arms. “I missed you today.”

  I pull out of his arms and he walks past me into my room. “What did you do today?” I ask.

  “Worked,” he says as he takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I say as I watch him. “Where did you have lunch?”

  His eyes come to me and in that moment, I know the woman he was with wasn’t his sister.

  “Downtown,” he replies calmly and sits on the bed. He taps his lap for me to go him. “Why do you ask?”

  I remain standing. “I saw you.” Our eyes are locked, and he remains silent.

  “Who is she?”

  After a beat, he replies, “Her name is Sophia.” I stare at him as I wait for him to elaborate. “She works for me.”

  Relief begins to flood through me. I knew there was a logical reason.

  “She’s the General Manager of…” He pauses.

  “Of what?”

  “Our high-end brothels.”

  “She’s a Madam?” I whisper. “You’re spending time with a whore?”

  He clenches his jaw, angered by my outburst.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” I snap. “Why did I have to see you in the street with another woman?”

  He stands and goes to the window to stare down at the street below. He puts his hands in his suit pockets. “We needed to talk about this, anyway,” he says calmly. “I have been waiting for the right moment to bring it up and this is as good a time as any. I want to get you your own apartment. Pick somewhere, anywhere, and I will buy it for you.”