The Italian
: Chapter 19

The need to go to the bathroom wakes me from my deep sleep, and I roll over in the darkness.

What time is it? It’s pitch-black. I sit up and rise out of bed, feeling my way around the room. I fumble until I replace my handbag and take my phone out. It’s nearly 9:00 a.m. Why is it so fucking dark in here?

I put the torch on my phone and go to the bathroom and return to bed as my eyes finally acclimatize.

Rici is lying flat on his back, fast asleep, one hand behind his head and the other safely holding his dick. His black hair is messy against his pillow. His dark eyelashes flutter, and his big red lips part as he inhales. I smile as I watch him.

So peaceful and perfect.

I lie onto my side to face him. My mind goes to last night and the love that we made.

I feel myself blush.

He’s so dirty, and it’s so damn hot.

I’ve never been with anyone even remotely like him.

Never in a million years did I think I would like the things that he does to me. When we have sex, I completely forget who I am.

Because I am his. His to do what he wants with.

My eyes roam down his broad chest and dark hair. Over his rippled abs, too, and then lower to his perfectly kept pubic hair and dick. Even when fast asleep and flaccid, he’s one hell of a man.

His begins to stir, and I have to stop myself from cuddling up to him and waking him up.

Maybe I should go and make breakfast for us?

Yes. I’ll do that. I get up and look for something to put on. Rici’s pale blue shirt from last night is still on the floor. I throw it on, grab my phone, and make my way out into the hallway.

The entire house is pitch black. What the hell? Why is it so dark? I don’t get it. There must be some kickass drapes on the windows. I put my cell’s torch back on and tiptoe toward the stairs. Finally, the sensory lights come on and light my way down the grand staircase.

Once at the bottom, I flick the light on, and I look around in wonder. I’ve never been anywhere like this.

Money is no object.

Everything is over the top luxury. Everything is perfect.

Like him.

Enrico Ferrara, you are one major mindfuck.

Yesterday, I was heartbroken over you. Today, I’ve moved in.

What the hell?

Natalie is going to lose her shit at me.

I make my way into the kitchen, turn the light on, and stand for a moment as I take it all in. It’s an all-white state of the art kitchen with beautiful coffee-colored marble floors. The best appliances money can buy sit on every surface, and there’s a huge copper range hood that hangs over the triple oven and hotplates.

Wow, what the hell could you cook in this kitchen? Hopefully good food.

I smirk at the thought of serving up something crappy. I wonder where I could buy packet pasta.

I peer into the fridge, only to be pleasantly surprised to replace that it’s fully stocked. There’s lots of fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat. I open the pantry and replace a selection of breads and oils. Antonia must have bought all this stuff for us coming here. Or maybe it’s just constantly stocked, and the food goes to waste half the time. I search through the cupboards to replace the pots and pans, and then I get to work.

Rici likes fruit for breakfast, but when he’s with me he’s been having eggs and bacon. All those ingredients are here. I’ll make him a smorgasbord—try and impress him with my culinary skills.

Half an hour later, I have a plate of freshly cut up fruit, poached eggs on sourdough with a side of bacon and avocado. There’s also a cup of the strongest coffee known to man. I don’t know how to work that fucking coffee machine. This is the fourth cup I’ve made, and they all taste like shit, but it’s the thought that counts right?

I load it all onto a tray and make my way upstairs.

I carefully place it down on the table in his room and, feeling proud of myself, I lay myself down beside him.

He inhales sharply as he wakes. “Hmm, bella,” he sighs sleepily.

I swear, Rici Ferrara’s bedroom voice should be used for all voiceovers. That deep, raspy tone sends shivers down my spine.

He kisses my forehead and holds me close as he begins to doze back off.

“I made you breakfast.” I smile against his chest.

“Hmm.” He frowns. “What?” He peels his eyes open.

“I made you breakfast.” I stand and go to get the tray. I put it down on his bedside table.

He leans up on his elbows and smiles sleepily. “You spoil me.”

“Baby, you have no idea how spoilt you are going to be.” I lean in to kiss him softly and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me down on top of him. In one quick movement, he flips me over so I am beneath him.

“I wanted to have you for breakfast.”

I giggle up at him. “You have me all day.”

He gives me a sharp pump with his hips. “And I will.”

He rolls off me, sits up, and then hits a button on his bedside. I hear a motorized sound. I look around to see the shutters over the windows rising. Natural light begins to flood through the room.

“What the heck is that?” I frown.

“Security shutters.”

“On every window?”

He sips his coffee. “Yes, bella.”

“What on earth for?”

“So that people can’t shoot through the glass.”

My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

He smiles, amused by my horror. “Yes, security shutters are for security.” He raises his brows as he sips his coffee. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Smartass.” I point to his plate. “Eat your breakfast.”

He smiles and starts to eat. I walk over and pull the drapes back to look outside. My breath catches.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. He chuckles and I turn to him. “That view?”

“Beautiful, huh?” He chews his food casually.

I look back out of the window to the huge bed of water in front of us. “That’s a lake?” I ask, unsure if it’s the ocean or something.

“Well, we are at Lake Como.” He smirks against his coffee cup.

I turn. “You’re being very cheeky this morning, Mr. Ferrara. You want to be careful I don’t smack your behind.”

He chuckles and continues eating. I look back out the window. There’s a huge manicured garden and a little boat house that sits on the edge of the water, and a wharf. “You have your own wharf?”

“Yes.” He keeps chewing, totally uninterested in all the wonderful things I can see through the window. I look directly down and see a deep blue pool. “You have a pool?” I shriek.

He smiles as he finishes his breakfast. “Yes, bella.”

I press my hands on the glass as I peer down into the yard. “Oh, Rici, this place is divine,” I sigh dreamily.

He smiles and taps his lap. I go to him. “I hope you will be happy here.”

I kiss him. “As long as I’m with you, I will be.” He inhales deeply into my hair. “Is this where you want to live, though?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Why? I mean, I can see that it’s beautiful, but don’t you need to be closer to work? We can come here on weekends.”

“We will have an apartment in Milan, too, but I feel closer to my father here. It’s why I love it. This place is good for my soul.”

I smile softly. That’s so sweet.

“This was my father’s favorite place on Earth. He bought my brothers and I here all of our lives. It feels like home. Both of my brothers have holiday houses here, too.”

“Your mother lives here?”

“No, she lives on a large property just out of Milan—the house we grew up in. She doesn’t come here often. She’s more of a city person and prefers Roma. She lives near my grandmother.”

“Oh.” I think for a moment. “When will I get to meet your mother and grandmother?”

He smiles as he lies me down on the bed and moves over me. “When you’re totally in love with me and it’s too late to run.”

I laugh. He bites my neck hard, and I wriggle to break free from his grip. “Do you think your mother is going to like me?”

He nips down my neck before he bites hard. I try to buck him off me, and notice that he doesn’t answer my question.

“Rici,” I prompt him. “What does that mean?”

“It means I like you enough for the two of us. Let me worry about my mother.” He growls against my neck, and I squeal in delight. He pins me to the mattress, his eyes darken. “Open for me, bella.”

I smile up at him, lift my legs and wrap them around his waist. He begins to slide his cock through my open lips as his mouth drops to my neck—softly this time. “What do you have planned for me today, Mr. Ferrara?”

“I’m going to show you around your new home, and then we’ll go sightseeing.” He kisses me again and slides his dick deep inside my body. My head falls back onto the pillow. “And there’ll be a whole lot more of my cock.” He slides out and pushes back in with a hard pump. “How does that sound?”

His possession creates a hot feeling through me, and I put my hands on his behind and push him back in. “Heavenly.”

I sit at the table and smile over at my handsome date.

It’s Saturday night, and I think I have had the best day in history. Rico showed me around the gigantic house. We went for a walk around the expansive gardens of his property, and then this afternoon we came into town and ambled through the shops. We’re now sitting in a seafood restaurant after eating a beautiful dinner. Dessert, and drinking Limoncello cocktails.

“This place is dreamy.” I smile.

“Like you.” Rico’s face is resting on his hand on the table, he gives me the best come fuck me look I’ve ever seen.

“What are the chances of me having sex tonight, Mr. Ferrara?” I lean toward him. I pick up his hand and put his index finger in my mouth to give it a slow, sensual suck.

“I’d say one hundred percent.” I suck his finger again, and his nostrils flare. “Finish your drink.”

I smirk.

“Before I finish you on the table.”

“Maybe I want to be finished on the table.”

His dark eyes hold mine. “You’re a sex manic, Olivia.”

“Takes one to know one.”

The afternoon sun flickers through the branches of the tree overhead. It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m lying on the daybed next to the pool. I’m wearing a white bikini, and my man is half asleep next to me in board shorts, his beautiful olive skin on display. He’s calm; more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. We haven’t left the house today. I made us breakfast and then he worked out in the gym on the grounds while I explored the garden some more. I did some washing and we ate lunch. I get why he loves it here. It has a real holiday feel to it, and it’s so far removed from the hustle and bustle of Milan due to the sounds of the water lapping and the birds flying overhead. The wind in the trees and the distant sound of a boat engine on the lake help, too. It’s a sensory cleanse. If peace had a sound, this would be it.

Seeing my man so happy and relaxed makes me appreciate his affinity with this place. The hour to travel to and from work each day is a small price to pay.

I sit up to lean on my elbows as I look out over the lake and catch sight of someone in the boathouse.

Security.

I know they’re always around, but somehow Rico seems to make it all seem normal. Like he said, they keep their distance, so I need to forget that they’re here.

It will take me a while to get used to, I’m not going to lie.

I think back to the security shutters.

What in the hell is all that about? Who the fuck would shoot through the windows, anyway? Why would anyone need that in their home? It just doesn’t make sense.

A little voice from deep within me whispers, Mafiosi.

Rici reaches over and rests his hand on my thigh. I roll onto my side to face him. I push his hair back from his face. The shadows are flickering over him as the sun moves through the trees.

“You’re sleepy today, baby,” I whisper.

“Hmm.” He smiles with his eyes closed.

“Do you want a drink or anything?”

He pulls me closer and snuggles into my neck. “No, I want you to sleep here with me.”

“That, I can do.”

My lips dust his temple, and I listen as his breathing slowly returns to a regulated pattern. He’s drifted back off.

I stare back out over the water and come to the conclusion that it doesn’t get much better than this.

I’ve found him.

It’s not Lake Como that brings me peace. It’s Rici Ferrara.

Enrico stands in the bathroom mirror and ties his tie. Gone is my relaxed Rici from yesterday. The businessman is back. Enrico. He’s wearing a navy blue, perfectly fitted suit, with a crisp white shirt, and a stupidly expensive Rolex watch. It’s 5:30 a.m. and he’s getting ready for work while organizing me left right and center.

“Lorenzo is going to collect you in two hours to drive you to work,” he says as he stares into the mirror.

“Okay.”

“I’m flying to Sicily today. I have an issue down there I have to take care of. I’m flying out of the airport from here, so Lorenzo will collect you after work, too. I’ll meet you at home.”

“Oh.” I pause. “I wanted to go the gym after work in Milan.”

“You have your own gym here now. You don’t need to go to a public gym.”

“I know, but I want to. I’m going to go with Natalie. She’s just moved here for me, and I can’t abandon her. I want to include her in my life. She’s my best friend.”

I sit on the basin in front of him and take over tying his tie. He stares at me. I can almost see his brain ticking.

“What?” I ask.

“Can you just not go to the gym today, please?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you out and about in Milan when I’m not there. I’m hours away.”

“Why don’t you want me out and about?”

“Olivia,” he sighs, in frustration.

“Okay, fine,” I concede. “I’ll use the gym here tonight, but I do want to keep my membership there. I want to make some friends.”

“Strangers?” he scoffs. “You will not be friends with strangers.”

“Why not?”

“You have no idea who they are. You can’t trust just anyone. This isn’t Australia.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Cautious,” he corrects me with a kiss.

“What are you doing in Sicily?”

“We’re putting in new security into our clubs down there. I need to meet with the security company and go through our requirements.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, Lorenzo will be with you today,” he reminds me. “Pick up is 7:30 a.m.”

“I know.” I roll my eyes. “You told me already.”

“If anything is wrong, call him immediately. He’ll be outside your office all day.”

“That’s not necessary. Besides, I thought Lorenzo works with you. Why aren’t you taking him to Sicily?”

“Maso runs this side of things. He’s coming with me. I wanted Lorenzo to stay with you today.”

I stare at him for a moment. “Why do you think I need a guard now?”

“Because if someone wanted to hurt me, they would hurt you.”

“Why would someone want to hurt you?”

He shrugs and turns away from me. “Just in case.” He walks out of the bathroom and into his wardrobe to collect his briefcase.

I go to hit the shutter button.

“No,” he says. “Leave them down until daylight. Never put the shutters up in darkness if I’m not here.”

I stare at him as a small thread of fear runs through me. “What’s this about, Rico?” I ask. “You’re beginning to frighten me.”

“Precaution, that’s all. I have to go, bella.” He kisses me quickly. “See you tonight.”

I sigh. “Have fun… flying around, I guess.”

He walks out and I follow him. I drop to sit on the top step of the grand staircase, and I watch him walk downstairs. He sets the alarm and closes the door behind him. I hear the lock click as he locks the deadlock with his key.

I can’t even look out of the window to watch him leave.

This feels so weird.

“Hi, mum,” I answer the phone.

“Hello love, how’s my favorite daughter today?”

I giggle. “I’m your only daughter.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says and I can tell she’s smiling. “I’m good, battling a dreaded cold.”

“Oh, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. What’s new?”

“Well.” I walk out of the bedroom and down the big grand staircase. “Things are going well with Enrico.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“I’ve been staying with him at his house in Lake Como.”

“Oh, isn’t that where the rich and famous live?”

I shrug, embarrassed and completely unsure how to warn her about him. “Yeah.” I try to sound casual. “His parents come from money. Lots of family businesses and things. He does alright too for himself.” I wince, does alright for himself is the understatement of the year.

“Is he being nice?”

“Yes, mum.” I roll my eyes.

“I’ve heard these Italian men can be very possessive when they want to be.”

I smirk, she hit the nail on the head. “He’s lovely, mum. I really like him.” I smile broadly. “In fact, I think I might be in love him.”

“Oh Olivia, let’s just see how it goes,” she sighs as she senses heartbreak. “Don’t go giving your heart to anyone just yet. It’s only early days.”

“I know.” I scrunch my eyes shut, it’s too late. He has my entire heart in his suit pocket at his disposal.

“How’s work going?” I ask. Last time I spoke to her she was hating on her boss. “Is Gerrard still being a micro manager?”

“Oh god yes, he’s going around the twist.”

Mum has worked for the same man for thirty years as his personal assistant, he’s in his eighties now and becoming senile. “Maybe he’ll retire soon?” I smile.

“I wish, I’ve been hanging on for five years in hope.”

“You can just replace another job you know?” I remind her.

“Oh, I couldn’t leave him, he needs me.”

I smile, that’s mum, loyal to a tee. It makes me sad that she let my father’s shortcomings taint her view on men. She never has really trusted anyone since him.

No one has ever come close to measuring up except for short dating bouts, she has been mostly alone over the years.

It’s a shame because she of all people deserves to be adored.

“Do you need to go to the doctor about your cold?” I ask.

“No, I’m on the mend, I’m fine.”

“Okay, I’ll call you later.”

“Good bye, love. I’m glad you sound so happy.”

I smile broadly. “Me too.”

Enrico

I walk through the club with the three security team staff with Maso directing them.

“We need a camera system that instantly links back to base at our security office upstairs. See this, here? This isn’t good enough coverage,” Maso continues as he shows them around.

We’ve gone over the strategies, and they are now working through the placement of the cameras.

Sophia and I trail behind.

“Do you want to grab some lunch while they work this out?” Sophia asks. “I’m famished.”

I glance at my watch and see it’s 2:00 p.m.

I’m hungry, too.

“Yeah, sure. Maso?” I interrupt. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” He keeps walking and talking with the men.

Sophia and I leave the club and make our way across the road into a restaurant.

It’s awkward between us. We’ve hardly spoken since I kicked her out of my bed in the middle of the night.

We take a seat by the window and I order a scotch. She orders a glass of wine. We sit in silence for a while, and I lean back in my seat… waiting for it.

“You met someone?”

Here we go. “I told you I had.”

“Who is she?”

“You don’t know her.”

Her eyes hold mine. She stays silent, and it makes me feel like a prick.

“We used to date a few years back. She has recently come back to me.”

“And you care for her?”

“Yes. I really don’t want to sit here and explain myself to you, Sophia.”

“I want to know why.”

“I met someone and want to be with her. End of story.”

She runs her fingers through her hair. I watch her. She’s a beautiful woman—Italian to the bone with long, dark hair and a gorgeous, curvy figure. With her long, red nails, and her stilettos, she’s always perfectly made up.

“We were never like that, Soph, and you know that,” I remind her softly.

“What will she be to you?”

“I am only taking her.”

She frowns, confused. I have never been loyal to only one woman before.

“She will—”

“Yes,” I cut her off. “I am only having her. I don’t want anybody else.”

“Where is she from? Milan?”

I roll my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here. I have to get through this conversation. Sophia is good at her job and I need her. We need to be amicable. “She’s from Australia.”

Her face falls. “Australia. She’s Australian?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God, Enrico,” she whispers, full of horror. “A man with your bloodline cannot date a common criminal from Australia.”

I sip my scotch as my anger begins to grow deep in my stomach.

“You know that, don’t you?” she continues. “Australia’s colony started from the English sending their convicts there.”

“Criminals for stealing food for their children,” I sneer. “Not quite the crime we Italians are accustomed to, now, is it?” I raise my glass to her sarcastically.

“And you think you want this woman?”

“I know I do.”

She sits back in disgust. “You can’t marry her.”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking like.”

“A Ferrara cannot marry a foreigner.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You will have to take her as your comare.”

A comare means a mistress in Italian. “No, when I marry, I’m only having my wife, just like my father did.”

She throws her head back in disgust. “Oh, please, your father had a goomah for thirty years. Don’t pretend you don’t know her,” she scoffs.

“He did not.”

“He did, Enrico. I know her very well.”

“You lie. My father adored my mother.”

“And he loved his comare I went to the funeral she held for him. It was beautiful.”

“What?”

Her face falls. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

I stare at her as I begin to hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I thought you knew—everyone knew. Even your mother.”

I sip my scotch with a shaky hand.

“She lives in Lake Como with their son.”

What?

“They had a son?” I whisper.

“Yes, they had a boy. He was only seventeen when your father passed.”

I stare at her as I begin to feel my pulse raging throughout my body.

“He was with her long before he met your mother, but he wasn’t allowed to marry her. She was the love of his life. He was loyal to her to the very end.”

I clench my jaw… in distain. My mother was the love of his life.

“Liar,” I sneer.

“Why do you think your father had a house in Lake Como that he took you and your brothers to every weekend, Rico?”

I stare at her as a missing piece of the puzzle falls into place.

“Why do you think your mother hated the place? Why does your mother prefer to be in Rome?”

“My mother married my father for love.”

“Your mother married your father because of his name. She knew he loved another. She always came second to Angelina. She was happy with the arrangement and his money.”

I drain my scotch and slam my glass down onto the table. I stand in a rush, and without another word, I storm out of the restaurant and around the corner into an alleyway. I’m hot, clammy, and disorientated. I push my hands onto my knees. With the realization that my whole life is a lie, I throw up.

Olivia

I stand at the 3D printer and fold my arms in a huff.

It’s Monday afternoon. I hate this machine. Why does it print so slow? Where is the normal photocopier? Why is it all so technical?

“How was your weekend?” Martin from accounts asks me.

“Great. How was yours?” I smile.

Great doesn’t come close to describing my weekend. I had the most fabulous weekend in history, and I am on a Ferrara high. I’m so high, I can’t even see the ground.

Rico and I turned the corner in a big way and I just can’t wait to see him tonight. He won’t be back until late, but that’s okay. This will be my new normal.

My design finally prints, and I make my way back to my seat. My phone on my desk rings.

“Olivia, this is Torino from reception downstairs.”

“Hi.” I smile. “How can I help you?”

“You have someone to see you down here.”

“Who is it?”

“Um.” She pauses. “Yes, just go into the conference room on level two—take the elevator,” she says to whoever is waiting. “Olivia will meet you up there.”

I frown as I wait on.

“It’s the police,” she whispers.

“What? And they’re here to see me?”

“Yes, two of them. They’re detectives. They’re in the conference room waiting for you now.”

“Shit, okay. Thanks.”

I make my way to the conference room, and I open the door. Two men are sitting at the table, and they stand as I walk in.

“Hello, Olivia. We’re Pedro and Michael. We’re detectives, and we’d like to ask you a few questions, please.”

They’re older and classically cop-like. One is short and bald, while the other looks like a stripper who hired a suit.

“Okay.” I smile as I shake their hands. I gesture to the table and chairs. “Please, take a seat.”

We all sit down.

I cross my legs in front of me as I wait for them to tell my why they’re here. “I’m sorry, you have me at a loss. How can I help you?”

“We are investigating a missing person.”

“Okay…”

“Franco Macheski.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” I ask, confused.

“You probably should,” Pedro says sarcastically. “You went on a date with him three weeks ago.”

Oh shit. Mr. Tinder. “Sorry. Mental block there for a moment.” I feel like a total whorebag.

“He hasn’t been seen since,” he tells me.

I stare at them. “What?”

“You were the last person to see Franco alive. Tell us what happened on the night you went out together. We want to know everything.”