The Italian

by T L Swan

  “Oh.” Enrico’s shoulders drop in relief. “Can she eat everything?”

  “I would avoid raw seafood and soft cheeses, and of course alcohol and recreational drugs.”

  “Of course.” Something tells me he is going to micromanage this pregnancy with strategic precision. “Okay then.” Enrico stands and shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thank you. We’ll see you in a month.”

  He takes my hand and we walk out through the swanky surgery. When we make our way to the car, I try my hardest to not notice the bodyguards. I’m still on edge.

  Enrico opens my door and I get in. He walks around to the driver’s side and slides in beside me.

  “We’re going to be parents?” He smirks as he starts the car.

  I hunch my shoulders up. He looks over and we smile goofily at each other.

  No matter what else is going on in our lives at the moment, this right here is all that matters.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  “I love you.” He kisses me softly and I melt into him. I can whine all I want about things that go bump in the night, but I could never whine about him.

  He is perfect.

  “Can we go out to lunch to officially celebrate?” I ask.

  “I’d rather go home and celebrate.” He kisses me again.

  I know this kiss, it’s an emotion overload kiss. The type he gives me when we have to be close.

  “Lunch first.” I smile.

  He exhales heavily.

  “Everyone’s looking at us.”

  “Who cares? I’m having a baby. I’ll do whatever I fucking like.” He forces himself to refocus. “Lunch… then the afternoon in bed.”

  “I’m not quite sure that pregnant women spend the afternoon in bed doing rude things, Mr. Ferrara.”

  He gives me the best come fuck me look of all time. “Mine does.”

  He pulls out into the traffic and we drive for a while.

  “We will have to bring the wedding forward.”

  My eyes flick over to him in question.

  “I don’t want anyone to know until we are married. I don’t want them to think this is a shotgun wedding.”

  “Okay.” I think for a moment. “I wish it happened a little later. I know the timing isn’t that great.”

  He gives me a heart-stopping smile. “A child is a gift whenever it arrives.”

  I smile over at my gorgeous man; how did I get so lucky? “Thank you for being amazing.”

  “Thank you for being mine.”

  Enrico raises his wineglass with mine. “To us.”

  “To us.” I smile. “Although a toast with mineral water doesn’t seem to pull the same punch.”

  He chuckles. “Get used to it.”

  My phone buzzes on the table. “Hello,” I answer.

  “Hello, darling,” Giorgio sings.

  “Oh, hi.” I cringe. “I’m so sorry I had today off. I… I had to go to the doctors.”

  “That’s okay, darling. I was calling to tell you that they have found asbestos in the building. You will have to work from home for a week or two.”

  “What?” I frown. “Really?”

  “It wasn’t in the building, just in a wall structure that had been added over the years. It’s being removed this week.”

  “Oh.”

  “It will be completely safe to return.”

  “So, I’ll just work from home tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Yes, unless you would rather have some time off. I can arrange that, too.”

  I frown over at Enrico. He frowns back in question. “Did you tell him?” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “No,” he mouths back.

  “Okay, that’s great. I’ll call you tomorrow, Giorgio.”

  “Goodbye, sweetheart. Have a nice day.” He hangs up.

  “Jeez.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve found asbestos in the building. I have to work from home for a few weeks.”

  “Oh.” He picks his drink up and sips it, not saying anything else.

  I stare at him. He can’t lie for shit. “Did you organize this?”

  “No.” He rearranges his napkin on his lap.

  “Enrico.” I gasp. “I have to work.”

  “And you can… from home.” He takes my hands over the table. “My guards are super busy at the moment and it’s easier if you work from home for security reasons. Giorgio didn’t mind at all and, well, I just thought that now might be a nice time to bring your mother over.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “I haven’t met her yet. She can come to the engagement party next weekend, and you can tell her about the baby in person. You don’t want to do it over the phone, do you? As soon as she knows, we can tell everyone else.”

  I sit back in my chair in shock. “Really?”

  “Yes, I want to get to know her, and who knows?” He shrugs. “We may convince her to move to Lake Como for a while. I can get her a house of her own on the lake so she will be close while you’re pregnant.”

  I put my hands over my mouth. “That would be so amazing,” I whisper. “You are so thoughtful. Thank you. I’ll call her tonight.” I take out my pad and paper and write the words.

  To do

  “My friend is going to help me organize this party,” I say as I begin my list.

  “What friend?”

  “Jenn.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “My friend from the gym. Remember? You met her the night you carried on like a pork chop and punched Franco.”

  He rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the memory. “He deserved it.”

  “She used to be a party planner in Australia.”

  “No.” He sips his drink.

  “What?”

  “I am not having a stranger involved.”

  “She’s not a stranger.”

  “She is. You don’t know her. Who knows who she is?” He sits back, annoyed. “She can’t even attend the party,” he adds.

  My face falls. “What? Why not?”

  “We don’t know her.” He widens his eyes, as if I should already know this.

  “I know her.”

  “You really don’t. Lorenzo will have to check her out. She isn’t to come to the house at all until we get it through security.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re so dramatic. She’s just a girl from the gym.”

  “No,” he replies sharply. “I’m a realist. Nobody has access to you unless they are security checked first.”

  I look over and frown in surprise. “Speak of the devil. Look.” I wave at Jennifer and her boyfriend Diego who have just walked into the restaurant. They smile, wave back, and make their way over to the table.

  “Hi.” I stand and kiss them both.

  Enrico politely shakes their hands. “Hello.” He looks them up and down.

  Oh shit, he’s going to be snarky.

  “Will you join us for a drink?” I ask, a little uncomfortably.

  “Yes.” Jennifer smiles and sits down beside me.

  Enrico glares at me and sips his wine.

  Shit.

  Diego orders a bottle of wine. “I’ll have four new glasses, too, please,” he says.

  “What brings you here?” Enrico asks.

  “We were in the area and thought we’d have lunch.” Jenn smiles. “It’s great that we ran into you. What a coincidence.”

  Enrico’s calculating eyes hold Jennifer’s, and he raises an eyebrow. “Yes, it is.”

  Oh God, what is he thinking? He can be such an arrogant ass when he wants to be.

  Just be nice.

  “Did you go to the gym this morning?” I try to break the ice.

  “Yes, where were you?”

  “I slept in.” I glance over to Enrico who is staring at Diego.

  “We need to get working on this party planning.” Jennifer smiles as the wine arrives.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Enrico interrupts. “We have it covered.”

  “Oh, it’s n
o bother. I want to.” Jennifer smiles. “I really need something to do.”

  “I said that won’t be necessary,” he asserts.

  Diego fills three wineglasses, and then when he goes to fill the fourth, Enrico puts his hand over the glass. “No.” He glares at him.

  Shit, why is he being so rude?

  I begin to perspire.

  “The party is already organized.” He sits back in his chair. “I never did catch your surnames, though?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Earth, please swallow me up.

  Jenn and Diego look at each other. Diego laughs. “Are you going to do a security check on us?”

  Enrico smiles and raises his glass sarcastically. “Naturally.”

  “Enrico, ha-ha, such a joker.” I fake a smile across the table and open my menu in a rush. “Let’s just order our food, shall we?”

  Fuck.

  “My surname is Rogers and Diego’s is Romano,” Jennifer tells him. “What are you wearing to the party?” she asks me, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “Where are you from?” Enrico asks.

  Oh hell, what is this? The Spanish inquisition?

  I eye the bottle of wine on the table, and I wish to God I could just drain it.

  “Sicily,” Diego replies.

  Enrico’s eyes hold his. “What do you do in Australia, Jennifer?”

  “Ah… um… oh.”

  She hesitates, as if she’s being put on the spot. Hang on. Her delay did sound a little suspicious, I do have to admit.

  “I told you, I was an events manager.”

  Enrico pushes his chair out. “Unfortunately, Olivia and I have to get going.”

  My face falls. “What?”

  “Now.” He stands in a rush.

  “But…” I frown.

  He holds his hand out and glares at me. “Let’s go.”

  I turn to Jennifer, embarrassed. “Sorry. Something has come up.”

  With one last death stare to my friends, Enrico dips his head. “Goodbye.”

  “Bye.” I force a smile.

  Enrico leads me out of the restaurant, and I have to practically run to keep up with him.

  “Why are you being so damn rude?” I whisper.

  “They’re up to something.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Mark my words, I’ll call it in tomorrow.” He looks back up the street toward the restaurant. “Something is off with those two. I can sense it.”

  I roll my eyes as we arrive at the car. “I am allowed to have friends.”

  “Get in the car.”

  I get into the car and slam the door. Damn control freak.

  It turns out that finding an engagement party dress isn’t all that easy.

  We’ve been at this for hours.

  “Okay,” Giorgio says. “Let me see.”

  I peek my head out through the dressing room curtain. “Is anyone around?”

  “Just me. Get out here.”

  I walk out and smirk as I put my hands on my hips. “This dress is ridiculous. I look like a stripper.”

  Giorgio’s eyes drop down my body, and he frowns and holds his chin. “Well, that’s not going to work.” He begins to try and tuck my boobs back in as he wrestles with the fabric.

  “You think?” I giggle as he tries to stretch the fabric over my exposed breasts. “It was definitely designed for a more petite woman.”

  “One without boobs.” He looks me up and down. “Next one.”

  I go back into the changing room to try on my tenth dress.

  “Giorgio, you need to prepare yourself for the fact that I might not be able to wear Valentino,” I call. “I have a lot of beautiful dresses at home. I can just wear one of those.”

  “Nonsense.” He huffs. “If there’s nothing here you like, we’ll be making you something. This is the biggest event in Milan.”

  I flick the curtain open and poke my head out. “What is?”

  “The engagement party, of course.”

  “There’s only fifty people coming.” I frown.

  Giorgio laughs at my horrified face. “Darling, have you seen the front page of the paper today?”

  “No, why?”

  “I’ll find a copy for you.” He closes the curtain in my face. “Try the next dress on. You are quite the celebrity now.”

  I flick the curtain open again in surprise. “Who? Me?” I scoff.

  “Darling, you are marrying Enrico Ferrara, the king of Italy. What did you expect?”

  I roll my eyes and flick the curtain closed.

  “He’s kept you relatively well hidden up until now. But from here on in, you are officially the property of Italy. Everything you do and wear will be splashed across every magazine in the country. Look at Bianca. She’s the envy of every woman—the queen of fashion.”

  My anxiety begins to grow. “We need to find a fucking dress.”

  “Okay then. Next,” he says, his urgency growing along with mine.

  I begin to try on the next dress, and I hear him talking to someone. “Do you have a copy of today’s newspaper?” He listens for a moment. “Can you chase one up for me, please?”

  I pull up the dress and look in the mirror. It’s a deep red fabric, and it’s strapless with a rouged kind of look to it. I turn and look at my behind. This one is better.

  I flick open the curtain and Giorgio’s eyes light up.

  “Oh, Olivia.” He gasps as he spins me away from him and inspects my behind. “Oh, yes, I like this. I like this a lot.”

  I wiggle my hips in the mirror with a cheeky smile. “Me, too.”

  “Here you are.” Someone hands Giorgio a newspaper, and he smiles as he studies it.

  He holds it up, and on the front page is a picture of me. I can’t understand what it says. It’s written in Italian.

  “What does it say?” I ask.

  “Enrico Ferrara chooses his queen.”

  “That’s the headline?”

  He kisses my cheek. “It takes a brave woman to love a Ferrara man.”

  I smile, but my heart drops. “Why do you say that?”

  He takes my hand in his. “Nothing really, just not everyone is cut out for the life of a Ferrara man, that’s all.” He flicks the curtain shut and I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

  An insidious festering fear begins to swirl in my stomach, like the calm before the storm. It takes a brave woman to love a Ferrara man.

  Bravery has never been my strong point.

  “What about this?” I come out of the closet in a pink dress. I hold my hands out to give him the full effect. “Is this better?” I do a twirl.

  Enrico rolls his eyes. “You look gorgeous, like you have in the last five dresses. Just pick one because we need to go.”

  God, all this fucking picking outfits lately has me going crazy. I wish Giorgio never showed me that damn newspaper. Now I’m second-guessing every damn outfit I wear.

  How the fuck am I supposed to compete with Bianca?

  “Pick one,” he repeats.

  I look at him, deadpan. He doesn’t need to worry because he looks amazing in anything he wears, and how wrong can you go in an Armani suit?

  I turn and look at my behind in the mirror. “I’m getting a fat ass already.”

  He smirks.

  “Your baby is making me fat.” I huff as I walk into the wardrobe. “What do you wear to fucking church, anyway?” I call as I flick through all the coat hangers.

  “The word fucking doesn’t go in that sentence, Olivia!” he calls back.

  “Stop telling me not to swear.”

  “I never knew a mother who swore so much.”

  “The baby isn’t here yet so I’m saying all the fucks I can.”

  God, so many dresses and none that look good.

  I’m nervous as all hell. I’m going to church with the Ferraras.

  The whole damn family is coming. Enrico’s brothers are home, and after church we are going back to Nona’s. It’
s Sunday, and I was supposed to be having a cooking lesson, but I hope she’s forgotten.

  I know I want to.

  At this stage, I don’t care if Enrico eats toast for the rest of his life.

  I put on a cream pantsuit. It has fitted trousers and a matching blazer jacket. I study myself in the mirror.

  “Okay, we can work with this.” I take the jacket off and put on a bronze silk blouse before draping the jacket over the top. I undo the top button of my blouse and walk out of the wardrobe. “Do I look like I’m going to work?”

  Enrico looks up. His eyes drop down my body and he gives me a slow, sexy smile. “If being on your knees and sucking my cock is the work you want to be doing, then yes.”

  I put my hands on my hips and give him a wiggle. “Yes?”

  He nods once. “Yes.”

  I walk back into the wardrobe and put a high heel sandal on one foot and a closed in pointy pump on the other. I clomp out. “What shoes say that I am a sensible, church-going Italian.”

  Enrico chuckles. “Nobody is listening to your shoes because your outfit screams bend me over the pew and fuck me hard.”

  “This suit is such a slut. I had no idea.”

  “Filthy. In fact, get out here now.”

  I go back into the wardrobe to continue getting ready. I apply sensible makeup and style my hair in big waves. I clip it back on one side. Twenty minutes later, I walk out into my bedroom. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Have been for half an hour now,” he replies flatly. He walks over to me and does up my top button. I let him because he will make me do it up anyway.

  “It’s not easy being this beautiful.” I smile up at him.

  He chuckles and rubs his hand down my behind. “I can only imagine.”

  The car pulls up at Milan Cathedral, and I dip my head to peer through the window. “Wow,” I whisper. The church is majestic. It seems like everything in Italy is that way. Italians definitely don’t do things in halves.

  The stone detail is incredible, and a gold statue sits perched way up above, as if looking down from the Heavens.

  Enrico smiles and holds my hand in his lap as he, too, peers up. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It took over six centuries to build.”

  Nerves flutter in my stomach as Marly opens my door. “Miss Olivia.” He nods with a smile.