The Italian

by T L Swan

Her back arches, and she begins to shudder. Close.

  A deep moan leaves her lips, and my cock is painful with need.

  I move to hover over her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. With one hard thrust, I’m deep inside my woman.

  “Rici,” she moans.

  I clench to try and hold it as her body ripples around mine. She’s wet and throbbing around me.

  Perfect.

  My lips take hers. “I’m here, Olivia. I’ll always be here.”

  Our body’s writhe together, each of us chasing the ultimate goal.

  The rush where we become one.

  I lift her leg and pull it up around my chest as I lose control. I begin to hit her hard. The sound of the bed banging on the wall is almost deafening around us. She loves it, sucking me in as she moans beneath me, begging for more.

  I hold myself deep, and we both cry out in ecstasy as her body contracts around me.

  My breathing is labored. My body covered in perspiration. Her hands in my hair, her soft lips on mine.

  But it’s my heart that’s floating…it feels like it just left my body and nestled itself inside of hers.

  She’s now a part of me—the calm, sweet, good part.

  The best part.

  And I am hers.

  Two hours later, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I straighten my tie and dust my hands over my pants.

  “We’ll talk more tonight, okay?” Olivia says as she kisses me softly. “Try and be calm.” She straightens my collar. “Just don’t say anything more until you cool down.”

  “Okay.” I kiss her goodbye and walk out of my house on a mission. After two hours with Olivia in bed, I’m centered again. She calmed me enough to at least get through the day.

  I head down the front steps to see Lorenzo, Maso, and four men leaning on the cars out the front, waiting for me.

  I walk up to them, stoney-faced, and they all stand.

  “Rico.” Lorenzo smiles hopefully.

  “Olivia is going to work. I want you all with her today.”

  “Okay, I’ll send a car with her. I’m staying with you.”

  I glare at him, imagining myself breaking his neck. I’m so angry with him I can hardly stand it.

  “That won’t be necessary.” I storm to my car as he follows me.

  “Rico, you have to understand—”

  I turn on him like I’m the Devil himself. “I understand. I understand everything. You have no loyalty to me or my mother, and I cannot stand the fucking sight of you.”

  I turn to continue to my car, and he steps in front of me. “Rico, listen to me.”

  “We will have a meeting in the morning to discuss your termination. You are no longer needed,” I growl.

  “Rico, I have been loyal to your father for thirty years. You cannot fire me over this.”

  My eyes hold his. “My father is dead. If he wasn’t, I would kill him myself today. I’m in charge now.”

  I get into the car and slam my door. He bangs on the window.

  I exhale heavily as I try to control my anger. I roll down the window. “What?” I growl.

  “Go see her.”

  I frown.

  “Her address is 347 Lakeview Road. Go there, Rico. Please. Go now.”

  I clench my jaw and speed off. My anger escalates as I change the gears with a crunch. I fucking hate them all. Tomorrow everyone goes, and I start with new staff.

  An hour later, I pull the car up and peer across the road. The impressive house is gated, and I can see a security guard inside. I drove around and around as I tried to resist coming here. In the end, I couldn’t.

  I needed to see this for myself.

  Pain tightens my chest. His other son is guarded. His other life is guarded.

  Was it so well known that even our enemies know?

  Or are they guarded from me?

  As I sit and watch, I see a woman and a boy walk down the street toward the house. They’re deep in conversation. She punches in the code to the gate and it opens.

  That’s them.

  She blonde… blonde.

  She’s wearing tight denim jeans and a navy puffer jacket. She’s in runners, and has on a New York Yankees cap, with her long, blonde, thick ponytail hanging down her back. She’s laughing. She seems carefree.

  She takes the football from the boy and kicks it over the fence to annoy him. He says something, and she laughs out loud.

  I stop breathing all together as I watch her. She’s the exact opposite of my mother.

  My mother is Italian, with long dark hair. She’s always in designer clothes and high heels. She’s always made up to look exotic—gorgeous. A Ferrara to the bone.

  I frown as I watch the enigma across the street. I can’t even imagine my father with someone like her.

  My eyes roam to the boy. He would be late teens. He has dark hair with a curl to it, and he looks exactly like I did at that age.

  He had a football in his hand before she kicked it away. Maybe he just came from training or something.

  I watch them walk in and talk to the man on the gate.

  I frown as pain sears my chest. I know him. He’s one of my father’s men.

  He works for me.

  I drop my head, unable to watch on any longer.

  I start the car, and with a million vile visions of my father with her and him, I drive to Milan.

  This can’t be happening.

  There must be something. I’ve missed something. How didn’t I notice this in the will?

  When I arrive at my offices, I head straight in.

  “Good morning.” Rosalie smiles.

  “Morning,” I say. “No visitors today, please.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ferrara.”

  I walk into my office, move the light switch and hit the button. The bookcase slides to the side, and I put the code into the safe. The will. I want to look at the will.

  The large metal door clicks open, and I walk inside the room-sized safe. It’s filled with transactions, money, and paperwork.

  I know where the will is. I saw it in here last week when I was retrieving something else. I look over the shelving until I see a large, dark brown, leather box way up high.

  It’s in there, I remember it from back when they were going through everything with me. I stand on the stepladder, take it down, and go back to my desk to open it. It’s a large leather-bound book. I flick through the handwritten pages, and I frown. Title deeds, ownership papers, the properties I own… businesses…

  What the fuck am I looking for here?

  At the bottom of the box are loose papers. I take them out, and that’s when I see a large yellow envelope.

  FOR ENRICO FERRARA TO OPEN

  WHEN HE FINDS THIS.

  My heart stutters.

  I stare at it for a moment.

  How haven’t I seen this before?

  I tear open the large envelope to find three smaller envelopes in side, titled in my father’s handwriting. Each one has a name on it.

  Enrico

  Andrea

  Matteo

  I put my hand over my mouth, hesitant to open it—Frightened that every memory of my father is about to be crushed.

  I open the letter addressed to me.

  My darling Enrico,

  If you are reading this my son, I have left this world.

  I want to start this letter by telling you how proud I am of the man you have become.

  Emotion overwhelms me and I blink through my tears.

  I miss him.

  God, how I miss him.

  Hopefully, you will never read this and we will have had this conversation face to face. But, in the tragic event that both my father and I go together, I needed to leave this letter for you.

  I’m guessing that you are reading this letter in the days after my death…perhaps weeks.

  I didn’t want this handed to you until you were searching for answers. I know you would have had enough to deal with at the time of my sudden passing.<
br />
  I’m so sorry, son. I wish we had more time together.

  I can hear his voice.

  I have no idea how to write this or what to say, so the beginning seems like a good place to start.

  You may ask why I kept the Ferrara business from you, Enrico—why I didn’t prepare you better.

  It was my greatest dream that, by the time you learned of this, I would have held the helm for a good period of time and the violence would have been a distant memory for our family. I knew that one day you’d find out who your ancestors really were, and I wanted you to be prepared.

  Although I didn’t train you for our business, I did prepare you in my own way. The day you became a policeman, Enrico, was the proudest day of my life. You learning that side of the law will help Ferrara greatly in future generations.

  I’m guessing that you are searching for this because you have found out about Angelina.

  I’m sorry I disappointed you, son. I felt this burden every day of my life.

  A tear drops on the letter in front of me, and I stop to try and focus on the familiar handwriting.

  Your mother and I were promised to each other on your mother’s birth, when I was only three years old. We met a few times over our lives, and we were to marry when I was twenty-two.

  When I was seventeen and visiting an aunt, I met an English girl in Lake Como who was an exchange student. Her name was Angelina Linden, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. We talked, and I convinced her to let me take her on a date. One turned into two, two turned into three.

  I fell hopelessly in love with her. We spent two wonderful years together in Lake Como, and when she had to return to England, I ran away to go to her. I couldn’t stand the thought of a life without her in it.

  My family were appalled. I was promised to another. Many financial deals had been negotiated from this arranged marriage. Stefano came to London and made me return to Italy without my beloved Angelina.

  It broke my heart. I never thought I would recover.

  Your mother and I began the courting process and I told her I loved another. We spoke often of Angelina. There were no secrets between us. She was a dear friend who helped me through the process. In fear that I would run away again, the marriage was brought forward, and your mother and I exchanged our wedding vows. By this time, we were close friends and I began to have feelings for her. Not the same as my feelings for Angelina, but feelings all the same.

  Your mother is the most beautiful, selfless person I have ever met. I adore her with every sense of my being. Over the next four years, we had three beautiful sons together. We traveled along and I was comfortable… but there was a part of me missing.

  I close my eyes. I don’t think I can read on. After a moment, I force myself to.

  I went to France for business. You can imagine my shock to run into my Angelina, who was there for business also.

  In the ultimate act of betrayal, I spent a week in Angelina’s arms and feel deeply in love with her again.

  This time, there was no end in sight. I couldn’t live without her.

  I returned home and told your mother everything. I asked her for a divorce, to which she declined. She wanted me to be with her for our children’s sake. She wanted the security of having me at home. Your mother didn’t want me to leave her completely. She put forward the idea of Angelina moving to Lake Como, and that I live between the two houses. At first, I declined. It wasn’t fair to either woman. But my heart was with Angelina, and I couldn’t leave your mother with three small children alone.

  Finally, it was agreed on. I would become your mother’s companion. I moved into the spare room of our family home. Your mother and I became just friends, and Angelina became my partner.

  For many, many years, the three of us were happy with this arrangement. Your mother had my full support and devotion, and I got to live with my sons as they grew. Angelina had my full heart. But Angelina was missing a part of her life.

  At the age of thirty-two and running out of time, she wanted a child.

  I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears as I read on.

  I wanted to give Angelina a family of her own. She had given up her whole life and family to be with me.

  To have half of me.

  Angelina’s family disowned her when they found out she had moved to Italy to be a married man’s mistress.

  When I wasn’t with her in Lake Como, she was completely alone.

  It was a heavy burden to carry for her, and yet her devotion to me never wavered… not once.

  She paid the ultimate price for my love: her dignity.

  I loved her desperately, Enrico, please understand that this was not something that was created out of lust. I am a bigger man than that. I couldn’t fight my love for her.

  I tried. For six years, I tried.

  It only got worse with time, not better.

  I agreed that she could have a child, and a year later, Angelina became pregnant. For the first time in my marriage, your mother was furious—crazy like I had never seen her before. She wanted to have my only children and she didn’t speak to me for three months. We fought. She showed me a side of her I hadn’t seen before. Heartbroken, I worked desperately hard to get my best friend back. I missed her. I missed your mother’s love, and then the unthinkable happened. For the first time ever, I fell in love with your mother. It was a different love to what I had with Angelina, but love nonetheless.

  She deserved better than I gave her.

  I don’t know how my life turned out the way it did. I was in love with two women.

  My beloved wife and my devoted soul mate.

  The three of us suffered, but Angelina ultimately sacrificed the most.

  How could fate be so cruel?

  The day Giuliano was born, my heart sang with happiness.

  The joy that he brought to my Angelina was indescribable.

  My biggest regret in all of this is that he didn’t get to grow up with his brothers. Enrico, when I look at him, I see you.

  Brave, strong, and loyal.

  I love you, son… more than you could ever know.

  I drop my head as the tears roll down my face.

  I hate to admit it but I can relate to this story. It was almost my own.

  I sit and stare at the bookcase in front of me as I try and prepare myself to read on.

  You may ask why I didn’t tell you any of this, Enrico.

  The answer is simple: it changes you. It changes every part of who you think you are. Knowing that your family’s money comes from crime, knowing that your father has committed adultery for all of your life… it’s soul destroying.

  Trust me, I know first-hand.

  I was eleven years old when I found out about the family business. I was eleven years old when I witnessed my first murder. I was eleven years old when Stefano brought his mistresses into my life and paraded them in front of me as if I should be proud. There were multiple women—too many to remember. Sometimes three or four at once. This was his normal. This was how he was brought up. This was how he was going to bring me up.

  He had no respect for my mother or me. It changed who I was, and for a long time, I hated him for it.

  I vowed that I would never let my sons be tainted and bitter the way I was.

  I wanted my sons to be proud of who I was.

  I’m not perfect.

  I know I loved two women, Enrico. The three of us were victims of circumstance. I know that I am still a Ferrara.

  But I hope you remember the good in me, and how much I loved you.

  My face creases together as pain tears through me.

  Please listen to what I am about to tell you. I know you will be angry, but I have my reasoning.

  Giuliano does not know anything about my other life. Like you, I have tried to protect him. He knows me as Papa—his father who worked away for a few days a week. The one who idolized his mother.

  Enrico, I need you to be the strong man I raised and step
up and look after my beloved Angelina and Giuliano.

  They are all alone.

  I have taken precautions, and they have been guarded up until you find this letter, but they are now in your care.

  I have thought long and hard about this, Enrico, and I have made my decision based on personality alone. I have four sons, but only two are strong enough to be leaders. Giuliano is to be your successor, Enrico.

  He will one day follow in your footsteps and lead Ferrara.

  “No, Papa,” I gasp.

  When Giuliano Ferrara Linden is twenty-one, and not a day before, he will receive a letter similar to the one you are reading now, and he will learn of everything. He will be publicly claimed as my son, and his name will be legally changed to Giuliano Ferrara. He will then hate me, I have no doubt.

  I need you to take him under your wing and remind him of how much he was wanted and loved.

  My love for his mother has not waned in death, he was my gift to her. Love personified.

  Care for him, love him, and teach him what I have had the time to teach you.

  Look after my beloved Angelina, and your beautiful mother.

  I miss them both dearly.

  I love you, my son. More than anything, I love you.

  Be brave, be strong, and try to understand my life and why I haven’t always been honest with you. My only goal was to protect your sense of self.

  I pray that I have.

  All my love,

  Papa.

  x

  Jessica