The Italian

by T L Swan

  “Why can’t you have her?”

  “Because I am Italian. Because I choose to honor my ancestors.”

  Her face falls. “Oh, Rico,” she sighs. “My darling boy.” She watches me for a moment. “You are your father’s son. Honorable and brave.”

  I stare into her big, brown eyes, and I see sympathy.

  “Your father would want you to choose love, Rico. What good is tradition if your love is untrue?”

  I stare at her, confusion setting in.

  “When you find your love, you must fight to keep her.” She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. Without another word, she stands and walks away.

  My eyes go back to the married couple. I don’t even know what true is anymore.

  Olivia

  Two weeks later

  I look at the three swatches of fabric as I try to work out what I’m putting on this vision board for an upcoming dress I am delivering next week. One is browner than I thought, and damn it, I thought it was going to be perfect. I hold the sequin swatch over the fabric. They do still look good together though.

  “Delivery for Olivia Reynolds,” someone says.

  I glance up to see a delivery man with a big bunch of red roses. “What in the world?”

  “Are you Olivia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sign here, please.” I sign the card, and he hands over the heavy crystal vase filled with beautiful roses.

  “Thanks.” I smile in surprise and open the card attached. It reads:

  I need to see you tonight.

  Luciano’s Italian at

  7:00 p.m.

  Rici

  xo

  What the fuck?

  I walk into the restaurant just after seven. I’ve been a bundle of nerves all day.

  What does he want?

  It’s been two weeks since I said goodbye to Rici. I would love to say that I haven’t thought of him once, but I would be lying.

  He’s the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night.

  His love has lingered on my soul.

  The restaurant is dark and moody. Candles sit on top of every table.

  I catch sight of him sitting at the back, and I smile as I make my way up to the table.

  He stands and smiles. “Bella.”

  Unable to help it, I smile at the mere sight of him. He takes me into his arms. “Hello.” We are genuinely excited to see each other and we hug and take a seat.

  He has this twinkle to his eyes, and he pours me a glass of champagne.

  “What’s this about?” I ask. “You wanted to see me.”

  “I did.” He takes a sip and seems in a rush. “I’m just going to get straight to it. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Although there are some conditions that you will need to adhere to.”

  “Conditions?” I frown. What the hell is he on about?

  “You will become a practicing Catholic.”

  Huh?

  “You will learn Italian and speak it as your first language.”

  I frown and sit back.

  “You will be under guard twenty-four hours a day, and will not go anywhere unaccompanied.”

  “I’m sorry… what?” What the heck is he talking about?

  “You will move to Lake Como with me, into my main residence.”

  I raise my brows… speechless.

  “You will become an Italian citizen.”

  “Enrico, what are you talking about?” I whisper.

  “I can’t live without you, Olivia.”

  “What?”

  “I have been fucking miserable since you left, and I am not giving you up. Not for my country, not for anyone.”

  Has he lost his mind?

  “I want you, in every sense of the word.”

  “You want me to become… Italian?” I frown.

  “Yes.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “So that I can love you.”

  18

  Olivia

  I stare at him, lost for words, while his face is filled with hope.

  “This is why you wanted to see me?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He reaches over and takes my hands in his and lifts one and softly kisses my fingertips.

  My stomach clenches. “What makes you think we will work now, when two weeks ago, you were so sure that we had no chance?”

  “You could at least act a little excited,” he whispers half annoyed.

  “Talk to me, please.” I sit back in my chair and pull my hands from his. “Last week, it was a completely different story. Help me understand this. I don’t understand your thinking.”

  He rearranges the napkin on his lap. “I was thinking about what you said about our magnets and why we like each other. Our conversation last week had a deep impact on me. Our wants are what makes us special.”

  “Enrico, me reminding you of your old life is not enough to build a future on,” I huff.

  “Don’t call me Enrico, and it’s more than that. I can’t leave you alone. I think about you all the time. I can’t drop this, Olivia, I tried. God knows how hard I tried.” He pauses. “I’m not leaving someone I want for something I should. What good is all the money in the world if I can’t have who I truly care for? What we have is sacred…and you know it is.”

  I stare at his hopeful face. Unable to help it, I smile softly. “Olivia, I know I’m asking a lot but we can make it work; I know we can.”

  “I’m not Italian, Rici.”

  “You are if you’re with me.” He smiles. “Don’t you see?”

  “It will take me time to learn your language.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “And besides, I don’t know if I want to even live with you.” I frown.

  “That’s non-negotiable. I need you with me.” He squeezes my hand in his.

  I like that he needs me with him. My mind begins to race. There’s so much to consider.

  “So, we’d never live In Australia?” I ask.

  He purses his lips. “No.”

  My face falls.

  “But we can have a house there and holiday whenever you want. Your family are always welcome here, too. Olivia, I am under no illusion that this is going to be easy for you. I will be patient and try my best to help you, you have my word on that. I’ve thought long and hard about this and I know it’s what I need to do. There is no other way around it.”

  “Rici…” I sit back to distance myself from him. “You’re asking a lot of me.”

  “I know, bella.”

  I sip my wine. I really want to pick up the whole bottle and start pouring it down my throat.

  “What I’m asking is if you care enough to build a future with me.”

  I stare at him, and emotion begins to pump through my system.

  “Do you?” he asks.

  “What about your family?”

  “I’ll deal with them.”

  “What if I make a bad Italian?”

  He grins then breaks a deep belly laugh, and I smile as I watch him.

  “I’m serious, Rici. This is petrifying. What if I do all this for you and you leave me anyway?”

  He falls serious. “I won’t be leaving you. Nobody will be leaving anyone. We have to make it work, and we both know we have a very strong base to work from. Yes, it will be tough sometimes, but I adore you and you adore me. What we have is precious. You never forgot me. I know you didn’t. I never forgot you.”

  I smile over at the beautiful man opposite me. He has so much hope in his eyes and pride and love and, oh God, I can feel myself caving in.

  “Do you want a life with me or not, Olivia? It’s a yes or no answer.”

  I stare at him, the word yes on the tip of my tongue.

  “I can teach you my world, Olivia. I will show you Italy through my eyes. All you have to do is love me.”

  My eyes fill with tears, because I do. I love this man, and the fact that he is so determined to
talk me into this only adds another layer to that love.

  I can feel myself falling off the cliff and into the Italian abyss. “Okay,” I whisper.

  His eyes widen as if surprised by my agreement. “Okay?”

  I nod with a smile, and he taps his lap for me to go around and sit on him. I look around us at the people in the restaurant.

  “Get over here, woman,” he whispers darkly.

  I giggle as excitement runs through me. He doesn’t even care who can see. I climb onto his lap, and he wraps his arms around me tightly. He kisses me, his tongue sweeping through my open lips.

  “I’ve missed you, Rici Ferrara,” I whisper down at him as I brush the hair back from his forehead.

  He smiles against my lips. “I’ve missed you more, my love. Don’t leave me again.”

  He gifts me with the perfect kiss, full of emotion and promise. I giggle. “Everyone is looking at us.”

  “Fuck them.” He smirks. “Fuck them all.”

  It’s after 9:00 p.m. when we leave the restaurant. We’ve been acting like lovesick teenagers all night. I can’t wait to get him alone. All this pent-up heartbreak and back and forth love means I’m about to lose my damn mind.

  Enrico looks over to a car parked, and I see a man give him a thumbs up.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “Marley. He’s my bodyguard who, unbeknown to you, has been guarding you since we broke up.”

  “What?” I look over to the car and the two men inside it who are staring at us.

  Rico opens my door, and I get into the car while still looking at the two men. I’ve never seen them before in my life. He closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat. “I’ve been guarded?” I frown over at him.

  “Yes.” He starts the car and pulls out onto the road. I turn in my seat and see the car pull out behind us. “I needed you safe.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

  He puts his hand on my thigh. “I’m a very wealthy man, Olivia. With that comes security issues. If somebody wanted to hurt me, they would hurt you. You will have a bodyguard twenty-four-seven now. Marley will be with you. I trust him with my life.”

  No words are in my head—only shock. “They’ve been following me?”

  “Guarding you, not following you. How was Germany, by the way?”

  “Rici.” My mouth falls open to say something nasty about my lack of privacy, but I decide to stay silent instead.

  “We’ll go back to your hotel now and pack up your things. You will move into Lake Como tonight.”

  “What? That’s crazy. Why tonight? What’s the rush? I want some time to sit with this.”

  “I want you to move there tonight.”

  “Why can’t we just go tomorrow?” I ask. Damn it, I want a whole heap of bone-shattering make-up sex first. Not to be moving frigging house.

  “Olivia, I want to start our new life together in Como… tonight. Our first night together will be in our bed, not your cheap hotel room, and not in my apartment, but in our new home.”

  I smile over at him.

  “What?” He smirks.

  “I was just horny, that’s all.”

  He throws his head back and laughs out loud as if shocked by my statement. “Don’t worry, you will be well and truly fucked tonight… but in my bed, and on my terms.”

  I smile as I look through the windscreen in front of us.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks.

  “I’m thinking that you’re very bossy, Rici Ferrara.”

  “I just know what I want.”

  I look over at him. “And what is it that you want?”

  “You, bella.” He puts one of my fingers into his mouth and sucks it slowly as his dark eyes hold mine. My sex clenches. “Only you.”

  The cavalcade of cars pulls into a driveway. Huge wrought iron gates greet us, and Enrico stops at the little security house. They open the gates and wave him through. We are at his house in Lake Como—the one he was desperate to get me to right away. At his insistence, we packed up my hotel room life into my suitcase and made our way here.

  It’s late—just past 11:00 p.m.

  We drive through the gates, up the long driveway, and I peer out the window like a scared child.

  “This is your house?” I ask as I feel the confidence drain from me and run down into the car seats. The property is incredible, with manicured gardens and spotlights lighting up the beautiful trees.

  “Yes, this is where we will live.”

  “Why don’t we just live in Milan?” I frown. It took us an hour to get here.

  He smiles over at me. “You’ll see.”

  We turn the corner, and I see a stone pillar covered in vines with a large copper sign hanging from it.

  Villa Oliviana

  I turn to him. “Your house is called Oliviana?”

  His eyes dance with delight. “Our house, and yes. This house was the first thing I bought when I took over the family business.”

  “After we met?”

  His smirk is slow to rise. “The name of the property was why I bought it. It reminded me of a beautiful woman I once met.”

  I smile dreamily. Oh, man, could this guy get any swoonier if he tried? “Only a bit fancier than me,” I add. From the back of my mind a little voice whispers

  Slow down.

  He smiles to himself as we continue up the driveway. At the top of the hill is a gigantic cream-colored house. It’s classically Italian. Out the front is a large, circular driveway with an undercover awning. It’s so grand, it looks like a hotel.

  He parks the car undercover, and two men come out. Rico gets out of the car.

  “Ciao, per favore, porta i bagagli di Olivia al piano di sopra.”

  “Si, signore.”

  Rico opens my door and grabs my hand to help me out. I smile nervously at the men.

  “Ciao, Miss Olivia.” They nod in greeting.

  “Hi.”

  I look around at the opulent luxury. It’s like a movie. Sandstone pillars and marble floors and gorgeous hanging lanterns line the space. Large, impressive potted plants are positioned all around. I don’t know where to look first.

  This place is out of this world. Next level, fucking insane.

  “Come, my love.” Rici leads me up the stairs, where two lion statues sit proudly, guarding either side of the house. Gosh, this place is like ancient Rome. We go up onto the sandstone terrace, and in through the large double doors. I look up in awe as we pass through them. They would have to stand thirty-feet tall, and they’re black with a big gold knocker on each one.

  Enrico watches me, and I tighten my cardigan around my shoulders.

  “You’re very quiet,” he says. He smiles softly. “Thoughts?”

  I have no words in my head—none that will make sense, anyway.

  This doesn’t look like a house. It looks like a national museum.

  “It’s… big.”

  He smiles and continues to lead me through the foyer. It has a gorgeous fawn-colored marble floor, and a huge staircase that splits in two on the first floor, dividing into two wings of the house.

  “Say something.”

  “This is… I… you… I mean…” I sigh.

  A door opens to the left and, a man and woman come out in a rush. They’re in their early fifties, at a guess.

  “Rico.” The man smiles happily.

  Enrico’s face lights up. He grabs the man in an embrace. It’s obvious he is close to him.

  “Ciao, Manuel.” He presents me to the two of them. “Olivia, please meet Manuel and his lovely wife Antonia. They look after this house while I’m not here. They have a home on the property.”

  “Hi.” I smile nervously.

  “Questa è olivia, viene a vivere qui, d'ora in poi riferirai a lei” Rico says as he gestures to me.

  Their faces fall.

  “Please meet my Olivia,” Rico translates for me.

  The woman claps her hands together before she takes me into he
r arms. “Hello, hello,” she cries.

  The man kisses both of my cheeks. “Hello, bella Olivia.”

  “Hello.” I smile. My eyes dart to Rico nervously. I don’t know what he just said to them, but they seem awfully happy about it. Manuel holds me at arm’s length as he looks me up and down. “You look like a beautiful…” He hesitates as he searches for the right word. “Asshole.”

  “Angel,” Rico corrects him.

  I laugh and put my hands over my mouth.

  Rico laughs out loud, as if that’s the funniest thing he has ever heard. Well, it kind of is. I can be a real asshole.

  “Hai appena detto che era uno stronzo,” Rico says to them.

  Their faces fall as they realize what Manual has just said to me.

  “Oh, no, no, no. Sorry, so sorry.” Manuel slaps himself across the face, and his wife and I laugh.

  “Andremo subito a letto. Ci vediamo domani,” Rico says.

  “Si, si, buonanotte, piacere di conoscerti, Miss Olivia.” Antonia smiles before they disappear.

  “They said goodnight,” Rico tells me.

  “Buonanotte,” I say, feeling proud of the two words I do know.

  Rico’s eyes glow with affection, and he leans in to kiss me softly.

  “Are you hungry, my love? Do you want a drink or anything?”

  “No.” I look at our opulent surroundings. I feel everything but hungry.

  Out of place? Hell yeah. I feel that and then some. But hungry? No.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Let’s go upstairs.”

  He takes my suitcase and I follow him up the grand staircase, where we veer off to the right. The balustrade is a chunky dark timber, and the carpet is a deep crimson tapestry; the kind you see in exotic movies. We walk down a long, wide corridor, and then through a double set of timber doors.

  Holy shit.

  It’s a huge bedroom, with an already lit fireplace in it. It has two big armchairs and a couch in front of it. At the back is a large four-poster, king size bed.

  “This is your wardrobe in here,” Rico says as he pulls my suitcase in through the door. I follow him, and it leads to another room. The walls are all mirrored with black floor-to-ceiling wardrobes. There is also a pink, velvet ottoman couch. A beautiful chandelier hangs low in the middle over a large mirrored chest of drawers.