by T L Swan
“Thank you, Marly.”
I get out of the car and Enrico takes my hand.
We walk up the gray stone steps and into the foyer of the church. Century old artwork lines the walls. There’s tapestry and huge paintings, and holy cow, this place is on another level. Enrico leads me farther into the church where the floors are mainly white with a large black and apricot pattern on it. I look up at the ceiling. It’s hundreds of feet high and lined with exotic, stained-glass windows. This place is simply breathtaking. It reminds me a lot of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, filled with huge, gray stone columns and so many beautiful things, you don’t know where to look first.
Enrico leads me to the side of the second entry doors and over to a white marble dish. He dips his fingertips in and crosses his chest.
“Now you do it,” he whispers.
Oh, shit. I dip my fingers into the holy water and copy what he just did. He gives me a soft smile and leads me down toward the front of the church. He kneels toward the alter, bows his head, and crosses his chest again as he mutters something quietly before walking to sit down. He turns and gestures for to me to the do the same.
What do I say?
He bows, as if to prompt me, and I quickly bow and do the cross thing on my chest. Then I scurry into the church pew behind him. Oh man, I’m terrible at being a Catholic already. I need a full lesson on church etiquette when we get home.
The church is silent—sacred.
Hushed voices can be heard but nobody dares speak aloud.
We sit down behind his mother and Francesca. An older woman is with them, who I am assuming is Enrico’s grandmother, and his two brothers sit to the left of them.
The priest appears and the worshipers all watch on with love.
They adore him, I can feel it.
He addresses the parish. His voice echoes through the majestic church as if a rock star singing the crowd’s favorite song.
He seems kind and knowledgeable, although I can’t understand anything he is saying. It’s all in Italian.
For the next hour, I sit silently through the service, as everyone seems to know a secret protocol—one I don’t. They stand and sit in perfect unison. They know all the songs and they sing proudly.
Enrico doesn’t look my way. His focus is completely on his priest, and it becomes clear very quickly why he wants me to be catholic.
Religion is important to him.
His family are all focused as they watch on. My eyes roam between them, and I wonder what was it like growing up in this family.
A heritage based on tradition.
Rules and regulations that cannot be broken.
I watch Bianca from behind, her back ramrod straight. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt, a blouse, sheer stockings, and sky-high stilettos. She looks like a super model.
She fascinates me, to have lived the life she has lived. I can’t wait until I get to know her better. His grandmother is in black, too, Enrico explained that they are in mourning and will wear black for three years after their husbands died.
It seems so bizarre, and is yet another tradition I don’t understand.
The service ends and people begin to leave the church. Bianca turns and smiles. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I reply nervously. I grip my bag tightly.
The priest walks down to us and shakes Enrico’s hand. “Hello, my child.”
“Father, this is Olivia. The one I told you about.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiles as he shakes my hand. “You are right, Enrico, she looks like an angel.”
I fake a smile. What the hell? He has his priest on speed dial?
“Friday night?” Enrico asks.
“Yes.” The priest bows his head. “Our first meeting will be on Friday night.” He looks over at me. “We will start your communion then, Olivia.”
“Okay.”
“Lovely meeting you.” He disappears from the church, and I look up into Enrico’s proud eyes. He gives me a sexy wink, and I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile.
I think I passed.
Enrico pulls into the parking space and turns the car off. His eyes come to me.
“You’re quiet.”
I clench my hands together on my lap. “I’m okay.” I shrug casually, as if going to Nonna Ferrara’s house with the entire family on a Sunday afternoon is an everyday occurrence. “A little nervous, perhaps.”
He leans over and kisses me. “You’ll be fine.”
“I know.” I drag my hands though my hair. “But, just to warn you, your grandma is probably going to hate me. I’m not much of a cook.”
He gives me a slow, sexy smile.
“What?” I ask, confused by his amusement.
“I beg to differ. You cook very well… just not necessarily food.”
“What have I cooked that isn’t food?”
“My balls. My brain.” He leans in to kiss me again, and his tongue sweeps through my open lips. “My heart.”
I smirk. “Stop being cute.”
“I can’t help it.” His hands rise to fasten the top button of my shirt.
I roll my eyes. Control freak.
He gets out of the car, opens my door, and takes my hand before he leads me up the stairs. The house is a huge mansion, made of marble and sandstone. Guards dressed in black suits are scattered everywhere.
It screams Mafiosi
Hell. I lied before. I’m not a little nervous. I’m fucking terrified.
We walk in through the front door, and Andrea and Matteo are the first people we see.
Andrea’s eyes light up. “Olivia,” he coos as he kisses me on the cheek.
“Hi.”
“You remember Matteo?” Enrico asks.
“Hello.” He smiles as he kisses me, also.
“Hi.”
Their eyes are fixed on me, and then they glance at each other.
What are they thinking?
Francesca walks around the corner. “Olivia.” She smiles and kisses my cheek.
“Hi.”
“Come and meet Nonna,” Enrico says.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Great.” I fake a smile as he leads me through to the back of the house.
Bianca is sitting at the counter with a glass of wine in her hand. She smiles warmly when she sees me. “Ciao, Olivia.”
“Hello.” I smile in return. Good God, this woman freaks me out.
There is a little old lady in the kitchen cooking, and the food smells amazing. The lady turns to look at me.
Enrico presents me to her. “Nonna, this is Olivia.”
She stares at me for what feels like eternity before she finally says, “Ciao, Olivia.”
I shake her hand, and she eyes me suspiciously again.
My nervous gaze travels to Enrico.
“Sii gentile, Nonna,” he says.
Translation: be nice, Grandma.
She rolls her eyes and flicks her tea towel at him. “You come!” she snaps at me.
Huh?
“You come help me.” She gestures to the pot of food.
“Oh.” I nod. “Of course.”
Bianca gives me a sympathetic smile. She takes an apron from the drawer and passes it to me. “Here, Olivia.”
“Thanks.”
She spins me around and helps me put it on.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Enrico says.
I widen my eyes at him. Don’t leave me with them.
He smiles and gives me a wink.
“Sii gentile, Nonna,” he says again before he disappears out to his brothers.
“Today, we make Sunday gravy with sausage and spaghetti,” Nonna announces.
I stare at her for a moment. Did I hear that right?
Huh? Gravy?
Gravy and pasta? The gravy I make is brown and goes with chicken.
Oh, fucking hell.
What next?
Nonna begins to explain what is in the pot in great detail, while I try my hardest to take in her instructions.
Francesca comes and stands beside me, and I take her hand in mine. “Don’t leave me here alone with her,” I mouth behind Nonna’s back.
Francesca giggles in response. I glance over to see that Bianca is smirking into her wineglass, too.
I’m glad I’m keeping everyone amused.
“Olivia… concentrate!” Nonna snaps. I step forward and take the spoon.
“Yes, Nonna,” I whisper.
Fuck me, he owes me some good sex for this.
It’s just after 8:00 p.m. when we walk out to the car, hand-in-hand.
We’ve said our goodbyes and are finally alone in the dark
Dinner was a success, and I didn’t poison anyone. Bianca made dessert, and we sat around the table and talked. There was laughter and fun.
It was actually pretty good. I survived.
Enrico opens my door and stares at me. It’s like he has something on his mind.
“What?”
He kisses me softly. “I was just wondering how many times you can fall in love with the same person.” I smile. “Because just when I think I can’t love you anymore, my heart grows so I can love you harder.” He kisses me softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For teaching me how to be happy.”
“Hello, Mum.” I smile down the phone.
“Hi, darling. How is the fiancé today?”
I giggle. “Good. Great, actually.”
“You wouldn’t believe it, but Henry has had a fall.”
“What? Is he okay?” Henry is my elderly uncle. He’s gay, never been married, and has no family of his own. He’s like a second father to my mum at eighteen years her senior.
“No, love, he’s not. He broke his hip. I’m on my way to the hospital now but I wanted to let you know.”
“Oh no.” My heart drops. “I was going to see if you wanted to come over for the engagement party.”
“When is it?”
I wince, knowing how ridiculous this sounds. “Next weekend.”
“Oh, love, I just don’t think I can swing it. I haven’t saved enough money.”
“We will pay. It won’t cost you anything.”
“Honey, I can’t leave Henry at the moment.”
My heart drops again. Great, I’m going to have none of my own family at my own engagement party.
“I’ll come over for the wedding and stay a few months. How does that sound?”
I smile sadly. “That would be great, thank you.”
“Did you ask your father?”
“No.” I exhale heavily. I don’t want Dad here ruining my mood. “It’s okay. You go to the hospital and send Henry my love, okay?”
“Okay, love. Sorry, but it is really short notice.”
“I know.”
Enrico
“What are we doing here?” Lorenzo asks from the passenger seat.
I watch the front doors of the Milan Library from our parked car across the street. “Just checking something out.”
“Like what?”
“You don’t think it’s weird that Francesca has been frequenting here?”
Lorenzo frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Francesca has been here every day for weeks.”
“So? She’s studying.”
I watch Francesca’s car arrive and pull into the parking lot. She gets out of her car with her driver and walks up the front steps. “I smell a rat.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” He scoffs.
I smile and sit back in my seat. “We shall soon see, won’t we?”
Twenty minutes later, Francesca’s guard is sitting on the front steps of the library having a cigarette. He did his job, went in, and searched the premises with her. I get out of the car and cross the street. He stumbles to his feet as he sees me.
“Mr. Ferrara.” He throws his cigarette to the side. “I just checked on her.”
“It’s fine. Stay where you are. I’m just here to talk to her.” I brush past him and walk into the library to take a look around.
Where is she?’
My eyes scan the room until finally I find her. She’s sitting in the back corner with a boy. I can’t see his face. He’s wearing a cap. I walk over to behind a bookcase and watch them. For five minutes, they talk, and then eventually, he picks up her hand and kisses the back of it.
They’re obviously more than friends.
I clench my jaw. I knew it. I march over there at once, and they both look up.
My heart stops.
Giuliano.
What the…?
“What are you doing?” I growl.
His eyes widen in horror.
“Enrico,” Francesca whispers in a panic. “We’re just talking.”
Before I can help myself, I grab him by the arm and I’m marching him toward the door. We burst out the front doors, and I throw him across the garden. He rolls spectacularly across the lawn.
“Rico!” Francesca cries from behind me.
“She is underage,” I shout.
He scrambles to his feet and steps forward. “You can’t stop me seeing her.”
Lorenzo comes running across the street. “Rico. Rico, no!” he cries, waving his hands in the air. “Stop it. Stop it now.”
For the second time tonight, I lose control. I grab Giuliano by the throat. “She is too young for you.”
“Stop it!” Francesca cries. “I love him. Stop it, Rico. Don’t hurt him.”
I turn to her, my eyes wide. What the fuck?
He’s her brother.
Lorenzo’s horrified eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head in disbelief.
I squeeze Giuliano’s throat so hard that his eyes nearly pop out of his skull.
“You go near her again and you will be dealing with me.” I throw him across the garden, once more, and he falls to the ground.
Francesca runs to him but I grab her arm and tear her from his side. She fights to try and get back to him. I drag her to the car and throw her inside, slamming the door shut behind me.
I turn back to Giuliano as he watches on. He glares at me as he pushes himself to his feet. His fists are clenched by his sides, and anger is radiating out of him.
“I’m not leaving her alone,” he states, as if daring me to come at him again.
I step forward, dangerously close to losing control.
“Rico, don’t,” Lorenzo whispers. “Leave it.”
“I love her, and you can’t keep her from me.”
Contempt drips from my every pore. I don’t think I’ve ever despised someone as much as I despise him.
“Watch me,” I whisper.
He steps forward.
The kids got guts; I’ll give him that.
“Over my dead body will you ever see Francesca again,” I sneer.
He growls at me through gritted teeth, and I turn to get into the car. Once inside, I slam the door.
“Drive!” I yell to Antonio. I turn to Francesca who is crying in the backseat.
“I hate you, Enrico,” she cries.
I turn back to the road and drag my hands through my hair.
I can’t even speak to her, I’m too angry. This situation is completely out of control.
What the actual fuck just happened?
He’s her brother.
“Enrico, can I see you for a moment?” Marly asks as he pokes his head around my office door.
“Yes, please come in.”
Lorenzo stands to leave, and Marly looks between us. “Can you stay, Lorenzo?”
Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine. “Sure.” He falls back into his seat.
Marly falls into the seat. He seems nervous. “I had a phone call today from a private number.”
“And?”
“Someone offered me ten million euros to kill you.”
“What?”
He swallows nervous
ly. “Lucky Lombardi is trying to recruit someone from your own team to kill you.”
I stare at him, lost for words.
“What?” Lorenzo explodes as he jumps from his chair. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” He twists his hands nervously in front of him. “I told him I would do it, because I didn’t want him to contact anyone else. It will buy us some time. If I said no, he would have offered it to someone else. This way, he thinks I am going to do it.”
“Good thinking, Marly. Well done,” Lorenzo tells him.
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I go to the window and stare out the city.
My inside team? Who can I trust now?
“He’s gone too far!” Lorenzo barks. “I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.”
“Who else has he contacted?” I ask. What if he bribes one of Olivia’s guards?
“Nobody would ever take a deal, Enrico. Our men are family.”
She’s in danger.
I stare out over the city as my mind begins to race. “Ten million euros is a lot of money, Lorenzo. It’s only a matter of time before someone accepts it.”
“Put a bounty on his head for fifteen million. His own men won’t be so loyal,” Lorenzo fires back.
I go to the bar and pour myself a drink where I quickly drain the glass. “We’re losing control,” I say quietly.
“We aren’t.”
“Lombardi has contacted my private security guard and offered him ten million fucking euros to kill me. What control do you think I have left?” I cry.
Lorenzo puts his head into his hands, and I turn to Marly. “Thank you, my friend. Your loyalty is greatly appreciated and will be well rewarded. Please, put your ear to the ground and try to find out if anyone else has been contacted.”
“Yes, boss.” He dips his head and rushes from the room.
I pour another glass of scotch as a heaviness hangs in the air. There has been a lot of bad things happening lately, but this is a low blow.
“Who can we trust?” I whisper. “I have no choice. I’m sending Olivia to New York.”
Lorenzo drops his head in defeat.
“It’s the only way I can guarantee her safety.”
“Go with her,” he pleads. “Run, hide… just until I find him. We will flush him out.”
“No.” I sip my drink. “I’m staying. He doesn’t even want the brothels. His war is with me. He wants my Ferrara skin for bragging rights.”
