The Italian, page 35
“A normal one.”
He smiles broadly, and then goes to his wardrobe. “I am not a normal man, Olivia, and we have had this conversation too many times this week.” He glances in my wardrobe and looks at all the shopping bags that I haven’t even opened yet that are sitting on the floor in there. “When are you going to look at the things I bought you?”
My heart drops. To be honest, I don’t want to. I’ve been putting it off. I can’t even begin to fathom the money he spent on me.
“I haven’t had time. I’ll do it tomorrow night.” I shrug, disappointed in myself that I’m coming across ungrateful. “Thank you again. I’ll wear one of the dresses tonight.”
He raises a brow, clearly unimpressed.
I stare at him, rattled that he has just given me his death plan as casually as taking out the trash. And yet he stands here, annoyed that I haven’t looked at the fruits of his shopping trip.
Priorities.
He glances at his watch. “I have to go.”
“Who’s taking you to work?” I ask, suddenly panicked that something may happen.
“Lorenzo is here. My normal crew.”
“Oh.” My eyes hold his. “Please… be careful.”
“I will.” He kisses me softly. “Ti amo.” He pulls me in for a hug, and then turns and walks out of the room. I hear him walk down the stairs, and then out of the front door.
It closes with a sharp click as he turns the deadlock.
The room is silent. Heavy.
I walk into my wardrobe and stare at all the expensive things in bags, and I feel sick to my stomach.
What good is all the money in the world if I don’t have him?
His love doesn’t have a price tag.
* * *
I walk out of work just after 5:00 p.m., and my heart drops. Enrico isn’t here to pick me up. Lorenzo is. I know he’s busy running the world and all that, but his little death talk this morning has me feeling needy.
“Hello.” I smile as I get into the car.
“Hello, Miss Olivia.”
“Where are Maso and Marley?” I ask as we pull out into the traffic.
“In the cars behind us.”
I turn and look out the back window to see two cars trailing us today, not one.
“Has something happened, Lorenzo?” I ask.
His eyes flicker up to mine in the rearview mirror. “Why do you ask?”
“Enrico gave me a plan this morning in case he dies.”
“It’s just a precaution,” he says.
“Is it, though? Do you think Enrico in danger?” I pause for a moment. “Like, more danger than usual?”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror again. “You’ll have to speak to him about that, Olivia. I’m not at liberty to discuss these things with you.”
I stare out the window.
Maybe he really was just being cautious. Don’t all couples have wills?
Stop freaking yourself out.
Go get gorgeous for your man. Enjoy the night out with your friends.
I go through the mental catalogue of dresses on the racks at home. Hmm… what will I wear?
* * *
I lift the wineglass to my lips and take a long sip.
I’m sexed up to the nines, wearing a cream evening dress that’s fitted to my every curve. It has delicate spaghetti straps on the shoulders, and I’ve matched it with gold, sky-high stilettos. I’ve even worn super sexy creamy, lacy lingerie that he bought me. The set includes a matching bra and G-string with suspender belt. I smile as I imagine him buying it.
My blonde hair is out and set in big curls. My makeup is smoky, and my lips are Enrico’s favorite shade of red.
It’s 6:30 p.m. and he isn’t home yet. Where is he?
I go to the window and peer down at the street below, hoping to see his procession of cars coming around the corner.
I’m trying not to worry, I really am, but it isn’t working. I’m driving myself crazy here.
To top it off, I’m feeling as hormonal as fuck. My period is due, and I wish the bitch would just arrive so I wouldn’t feel so fucking edgy. I pour myself another glass of wine and I hear the door click.
He’s home. My heart skips a beat.
He turns the corner into the kitchen where I’m waiting, and his eyes find me across the room.
“Hello, Olivia.”
“Hi.” I smile and hold the bottle up. “Want some?”
“Hmm.” He walks past me to the cupboard and takes out a bottle of blue label scotch. After he pours a glass, he immediately lifts it to his lips.
“Don’t I get a kiss hello?” I frown, this is unlike him.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He sighs as he takes me into his arms and kisses me.
“Rough day?” I frown up at him as I run my fingers through his hair.
A trace of a smile crosses his lips. “You could say that.” He steps back from me while holding my hand in the air. “You look breathtaking.”
I perform a little curtsy on the spot. “Thanks. This hot guy bought it for me.” I wiggle my hips.
He chuckles, and then tips his head back to drain the glass.
Jeez.
He pours another glass immediately.
He’s going to be drunk before we even get there. “Everything all right?” I ask.
“Yeah, give me ten minutes to get ready.” He picks up the scotch and drains the glass again.
“Okay, you’d better hurry. We are supposed to be there now.” I pick up the scotch bottle, secure the lid back on it, and put it back in the cupboard. He takes the hint and disappears into the bathroom.
His phone beeps on the kitchen counter and I pick it up. It’s a text from Sophia.
I’m going to need you to come to Sicily.
I can’t calm the girls. They need to see you.
Huh?
What the hell does that mean?
What girls need to see him? My blood begins to boil. That fucking bitch, demanding he go to Sicily with her so she can try and get her hooks back into him. And who are the girls?
How many of them has he fucked?
I get a vision of him in the luxurious brothels, and the beautiful girls all lining up to try and get picked to have sex with him.
What a prize he would be among them all. Enrico Ferrara a badge of honor. Is that what Sophia was? His favorite girl? That one he always took home because she was just so good in bed?
How many times did they fuck? How many times did she please my man?
Because I know for sure that he would have pleased her.
An ugly vision of her on her knees, sucking his dick comes to me, and I pick up the wine bottle to pour another glass so fast that it sloshes over the side. I sip it with a shaky hand.
Anger pumps through my blood.
Stop it. Stop being a hormonal bitch.
I know what I’m doing. I can feel myself being moody and insecure. I know I need to turn it off. I inhale deeply as I try to not think about it. Bringing that shit up when I’m feeling this crazy will never end well.
Right now, I feel like taking his phone and flushing it down the toilet so Sophia can never call or message him again.
I breathe deeply to try and regain some composure. After a few moments, Rico comes back into the room wearing black jeans and a black button-up shirt.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Uh-huh.” I snatch my handbag from the counter. I should really tell him he got a message from Sophia, but I can’t push the words past my lips.
He takes my hand in his and we leave the apartment. We stand in the elevator and he stares straight ahead. He seems off tonight, too. Cold and detached.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes.” He glances down at me. “Why?”
I widen my eyes. “No reason.”
We ride the elevator in silence, and then walk out into the underground parking lot.
I glance up to see Sergio’s hungry eyes drop down the length of my body. I can almost feel him mentally undressing me. The hairs on the back of my neck rise in disgust. I want to tell him off for being so disrespectful to both Enrico and me, but now is not the time. For some unknown reason, my man is angry today.
The car pulls up and Maso is in the driver’s seat, with Marley in the passenger side. Enrico opens my door in a rush, obviously impatient.
I slink into the backseat, and he slams the door shut. He storms around to his side.
It seems everyone’s hormonal tonight.
* * *
Two hours later, we’re sitting at the table. The bar is bustling. Chilled dance music is being piped throughout the speakers, and the mood is loud, filled with laughter and chatter. Enrico is talking to Giorgio, and I to Natalie at the other end of the table. Giorgio’s boyfriend is away for business, so it’s just the four of us.
Giorgio is talking non-stop. Enrico is listening to him but he is quiet and pensive. Every now and then our eyes meet across the table and a trace of a smile crosses his lips.
A warm glow heats my blood every time he lights up. I’ll never get sick of the way he looks at me.
I glance over and see Jennifer at the bar.
“Oh, look. It’s my friend from the gym, Jennifer.” I smile. Jen sees me at the same time and we wave. “Come and meet her. She’s so nice. She’s new here, like us.”
“Okay,” Nat replies.
I look over to Enrico and point toward the bar. “Just going to see my friend.”
He looks to where I pointed and then frowns. His gaze comes back to me in question.
“Jennifer from the gym,” I say.
He nods, and then goes back to his one-sided conversation with Giorgio who is now discussing politics in great detail.
I lead Natalie to the bar.
“Hi.” I smile at Jennifer.
“Hello.” She laughs and kisses me on both cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“Drinking.” I gesture to Natalie. “This is my friend Natalie; the Aussie girl I told you about at the gym.”
“Oh, hi.” Natalie smiles and shakes her hand. “You’re the one who’s looking for a job?”
“And failing spectacularly.”
We all laugh.
“This is my partner, Diego.” She introduces us to her boyfriend, and we shake his hand, too. He’s tall and muscular. Good looking, too, actually. “Are you guys here alone?” she asks.
“No, we have my boyfriend and a friend with us,” I tell her.
“Oh, which one is your boyfriend?”
I point to the table, and Enrico looks up at the same time. “That’s him in the black shirt.” I give him a wave, and he gives us a sexy smile in return.
Jenn smiles and widens her eyes, as if impressed.
“I know, right?” Natalie giggles.
I curl my finger at him, but he ignores me and stays put. Five minutes later, he glances over and I wave him again. Finally, he gets up and comes over.
“Enrico, this is my friend from the gym, Jennifer, and this is her boyfriend Diego,” I introduce them.
“Hello.” He shakes their hands and gives me the sideways look. I can read his mind as clear as day. He doesn’t want to talk to these people.
“Nice to meet you.” Diego smiles. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you,” he replies politely.
I widen my eyes at him. Don’t be rude.
He fakes a smile, and then his eyes go back to Diego. “Okay, just one.” He calls Giorgio over, and I can feel his discomfort at being made to talk to strangers. I smile to myself, knowing he waved Giorgio over so that it will save him having to talk.
Giorgio is in all his glory when the center of attention. He loves to talk. I think he could do it underwater.
They make idle chitchat. Enrico puts his arm around me while I talk to Jennifer and Natalie.
Look at us, being all normal and shit.
Enrico chucks his chin toward the door asking if we can go, and I give him a subtle shake of my head before I carry on talking to the girls.
“Let’s go and sit down,” Giorgio says with on over exaggerated eye roll. “My feet are killing me.”
Enrico exhales and I inwardly smile. He really hates this socializing business. It’s kind of fun watching him squirm.
“Yes, okay,” Diego replies. “I could do with a seat, too.”
They walk back over to the table and Enrico puts his arm around me.
“We are leaving in half an hour,” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes, dear,” I tease as he kisses my temple.
He ambles over to the table with the boys. I watch him sit down, and I smile as he joins the conversation. Giorgio is talking and I don’t think anyone can get a word in.
I don’t want to go home yet. He can talk to my friends for once. It won’t kill him to be friendly to someone outside of Ferrara. In fact, it might do him some good. He needs to realize that there are plenty of nice people in the world if he just gave them a chance.
We talk for another ten minutes, and then I feel an arm slip around my waist from behind. I lean back against him. I knew it wouldn’t be long until he came back. “Hello, Olly,” a strange voice purrs.
I spin around and the blood drains from my face.
Franco.
My Tinder date from hell.
“You look happy to see me,” he slurs as he reaches for me again. He’s visibly drunk, and he stumbles to the side, off balance.
Natalie must see the sheer terror on my face. “Go away, please,” she says.
Jennifer winces at the smell of his breath when he laughs out loud.
He puts his hand around my waist and slams my body up against his.
I push him away. “Stop it.”
I step back and out of his reach but he leans for me again.
I feel him before I see him. A large arm reaches past me and grabs Franco around the throat. “We meet again,” Enrico’s deep voice growls.
Franco instantly gags at the chokehold around his neck. His feet are now dangling off the floor.
“R-Rici,” I stammer. “Just leave it. Let’s go.”
Franco struggles free. “I should have knocked you out last time, prick.” Franco throws a punch and misses spectacularly as we all dive out of the way.
Enrico grabs him by the throat, once more. “I told you. Go near her again, and I’ll kill you.”
Natalie and Jennifer’s eyes widen in horror as they watch on. Oh hell, this is appalling.
I glance over and see Maso and Marley standing to attention.
“Enrico,” I whisper angrily. “Leave him. He’s drunk, let’s go.”
“Oh, I’m so scared,” Franco goads him. “I’ll show Olly what a real man can do.” He grabs his crotch for added affect. “She’s going to fucking love it.”
“Rici,” I warn him. “Let’s go.” But it’s too late, he’s already lost his temper.
Enrico punches Franco hard on the jaw, and he crumples to the floor in a heap.
“Stop it!” I cry.
Not happy with the result, Enrico drags him back to his feet.
“Don’t you dare hit him again!” I snap as I look around at the people all staring at us, oh this is mortifying. “Rici, I mean it,” I whisper.
With total disregard for anything I’ve just said, he hits him once, twice, he hits him three times—the sound of his fist connecting with Franco’s face hard and brutal.
My eyes fill with tears. I can’t deal with this. I can’t stand his detached aggression. I storm toward the door.
Infuriated.
“Olivia!” Enrico barks behind me.
I’m just going to make a scene if I stay. I need to get out of here, and away from him.
I begin to run. What the hell does he think he’s fucking doing? You can’t just hit people like that. It’s unnatural. He could kill him.
“Stop her!” I hear Enrico yell across the bar.
Maso runs after me and grabs my elbow. “Get away from me.” I push him hard in the chest and run out onto the street with Maso and Marley hot on my heels. I jump into the back of a cab.
“Drive!” I force out.
“Where to?” the driver says casually.
My eyes fill with tears. God, where do I go? He will come and get me wherever I am anyway. There’s no point going anywhere. I just didn’t want to fight with him in a crowded bar in front of everyone, that’s all.
I give the driver the address of the apartment in Milan, and I rustle through my handbag to dig out my key and clutch it tightly in my hand. I turn and look out the back window to see Maso following in his car. No doubt Enrico won’t be far behind.
“Power freak,” I whisper to myself.
He could see Franco was drunk and yet he hit him anyway. Not once but, like, six times.
Fucking asshole.
I’m so mad with him that I can’t even stand it. Who does he think he is?
His over the top reaction was just uncalled for.
The cab pulls up out the front of the apartment. I pay the driver and get out. Maso and Marley sit in their car as they watch me go in. I take the lift and arrive at the apartment.
I’m furious and looking for a fight, but I know he is, too, and it’s not a good combination. I’m going to go to bed so that we don’t get into an all-out war.
I take off my makeup, put my pyjamas on, and I get under the covers, just in time to hear the door open. He’s home.
I scrunch my eyes shut tight and pretend to be asleep. The bedroom door bangs open.
“Do not ever fucking leave a club without me again. Do you hear me, Olivia?” he bellows.
“Get out,” I snap. “Sleep in the spare room tonight.”
“Cazzo, non osare dirmi cosa devo fare,” he yells as he takes off his shoes.
“I can’t understand you!” I yell into my pillow.
“Learn fucking Italian, then.” He throws his shoe across the room. It hits the drawers with a bang. “Like you said you would.”
Something inside me snaps, and I sit up in a rush. “Are you fucking serious, right now?”
“Oh, I am fucking serious.” His dark eyes are crazy. He’s just as furious as me, maybe even more so.
