The Italian

I sit still in the darkness and listen. I glance over to Enrico who is fast asleep beside me. He’s been restless all night and has only just drifted off.

Silence.

I slowly get up and tiptoe over to the door. I quietly close it and flick the lock.

My heart is hammering hard in my chest. I stand and listen.

I hear another creak and I know that creak is near the top step.

I run to Enrico. “Wake up.”

“Huh?”

“Someone’s in the house.”

“Huh?”

“I heard the step creak.”

He launches out of bed and grabs a gun from his top drawer. “Get dressed.” He quickly dials a number on his phone.

I look down to see I’m naked.

Shit.

I’m running into my wardrobe when I hear him whisper, “C’è qualcuno in casa.” Translation: Someone’s in the house.

He walks up behind me. “Go into the bathroom and lock the door. Do not come out,” he whispers.

“Yes, let’s go.” I grab my nightgown and run to the bathroom. He hands me a gun.

“Keep the door locked, and if anyone comes in here, don’t ask questions. You shoot to kill.”

“What? Where are you going?” I look down at the gun in my hand with wide eyes. It’s heavy, made of cold, black metal. It’s designed to take a life.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“What? No, you stay here, too,” I whisper. I grab his arm, suddenly frantic. “Stay here. Don’t you go out there. Please don’t go out there.”

He pushes me into the bathroom and closes the door. “Lock it,” he snaps angrily through the heavy wood.

My face scrunches up and tears fill my eyes as I flick the lock. I begin to pace. Oh my God, what is happening. I hear our bedroom door open and I hold my breath as I listen. My heart is hammering hard in my chest.

I wait… and I wait… and I wait.

Eventually, I hear voices I recognize.

Marley and Maso.

I hear Enrico say something from up the hall. I open the bathroom door and peer around the side of it. What’s happening out there?

“Libero,” someone yells. Translation: Clear.

The house is a hive of activity. There must be ten men inside searching it. I can hear them walking through and banging around.

Enrico comes into the bedroom.

“Why do you have the door unlocked?” he barks.

My face crumbles, and his falls as he sees my tears and my shaking hand holding the heavy guy. I’m a nervous wreck.

“Olivia,” he says softly as he takes the gun from me and wraps me in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He holds me against his chest. “What did you hear?”

“I heard the step creak.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and I heard the top one creak a few moments later.”

He frowns as he holds me tight.

“What’s going on?” Sergio asks as he comes into the room. “I was in the boathouse and heard the commotion.”

We both turn toward him, surprised. “What are you doing here?” Enrico snaps.

“I was covering a shift for someone who called in sick.”

“Olivia heard something.”

Sergio’s eyes flick to me. “Did you see anyone?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’s impossible. Nobody could get in here. We have the place surrounded.”

“Just search the fucking house,” Enrico growls impatiently.

He storms out of the room on a mission.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention.

For some sick reason, my gut instinct sets off an alarm bell.

It was him. Sergio was in the fucking house. I can feel it.

“Why do I think it was him who was in the house?” I whisper.

Enrico frowns down at me, as if surprised by my accusation. “Why would he be in the house?”

“You tell me,” I whisper angrily. “Why is he even here? Didn’t you tell him to leave last night? I don’t trust him at all.”

Enrico glares out the door after him, his jaw clenched, and I know that he’s suspicious, too.

The house is now abuzz with people. Every light is on as they go through and search the rooms one by one. Every now and then I hear someone call to give the all clear in the distance.

I wrap my dressing gown around me tightly. If someone did happen to get in here, they would never be found. This house is as big as a state library.

“I hate this fucking house, Rici,” I whisper. “It’s too big and I don’t feel safe here.” I swipe the terrified tears from my eyes. “There could be fifty people hiding in this house and we wouldn’t even know it.”

Enrico drags his hand down his face, his frustration clear.

“Let’s go to the Milan apartment,” I plead. “Let’s just get in the car and go now.”

“It’s not safe to transfer us both in the middle of the night.”

“Why isn’t safe? Who the fuck is waiting out there?”

“Will you stop fucking cursing?”

“No, I will not! There won’t even be a fucking baby if we’re all dead!” I cry.

“We can’t leave now, Olivia.” He passes the gun back over and walks me to the bed. “Get into bed.”

“With a gun?” I hold it up.

“The house is clear.”

“Then why do I need a fucking gun?” I snap.

“Olivia,” he growls. “Do not fall apart on me now. Tomorrow we can move. For now, we stay here.”

I get into bed, pull the covers over my head, completely furious to be in this position. I can hear men speaking in Italian in the distance and doors being open and shut.

The tears take over.

I just want to be normal.

“Congratulations, you’re nine weeks pregnant, Olivia,” the doctor says across the desk. “The heartbeat is strong, and everything looks to be in perfect order. Your baby is fit and healthy.”

Enrico’s broad smile beams over at me and he grips my hand tightly in his.

We are at the obstetrician, and it’s been a rough morning.

Enrico and I have hardly spoken. I’m stressed out after last night’s activities, while he’s been avoiding the subject. He thinks it was a false alarm—that I’m imagining things. They searched the entire house and found nothing.

But I know what I heard.

“You will have your baby by Christmas. Your due date is on the 15^th of December.”

Enrico leans over and kisses me softly. He’s this big important man with all the money in the world, but when it comes down to it, nothing is more important to him than becoming a father.

“Congratulations, baby,” he whispers.

I smile proudly. My heart is so full that it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Your next appointment will be scheduled in four weeks.” The doctor looks between us. “Do you have any questions?”

Enrico’s eyes flick to me, and I know he has a million. “Is there anything particular that we…” He pauses as he searches for the right wording. “Shouldn’t be doing?”

I can think of a few. Not being killed as I sleep is number one.

The doctor smiles, understanding the true meaning of his question. “No, carry as normal. Sexual activity is natural and completely fine. It won’t hurt the baby at all.”

“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 no 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.

“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.

She’s firing orders at me, and I’m beginning to realize that this isn’t just a kitchen. This is the army, and Nonna is the drill sergeant.

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 nervously. “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.”

Lorenzo drags his shaky hand down his face. He knows I’m right.

My phone vibrates on my desk and an unidentified number comes up. Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine.

“Keep him on the line for three minutes,” he says.

I nod. “Hello,” I answer.

“Hand them over or pay consequences.”

“Go to Hell,” I whisper. “What do you think you are doing?”

“You were warned.”

The phone clicks as he hangs up.

Another threat from Lucky Lombardi. It’s the third this week.

I stare straight ahead, and anger rages inside of me like a wildfire.

This time in my life is supposed to be exciting. Announcing my marriage. Planning for a baby.

What I am is stressed beyond belief.

“We’ll find him. You have my word,” Lorenzo says from his seat beside me.

“He’s in hiding.” He shakes his head in frustration. “But he can’t hide forever. When he shows his face, he’s a dead man.”

My buzzer sounds. “Mr. Ferrara, I have Sophia here to see you.”

I roll my eyes. Fuck, this is the last thing I need now. “Give me five minutes,” I say to Lorenzo. I push the intercom. “Send her in.”

The door opens and the beautiful Sophia comes into view.

“Hello.” I stand, smile, and I kiss her cheek.

Lorenzo kisses her in a greeting, also.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, trying to act calm.

She clutches her handbag nervously. “I’m being followed.”

I frown. “By who?”

“There’s a man. He’s been following me for three days now.”

“What man?”

She looks around nervously. “I don’t know who he is. I saw him the other day when I came out of my apartment, and now I keep seeing him.”

“Are you sure he’s following you?”

“Positive.”

“Lorenzo, organize some guards for Sophia, please.”

“Of course.” He stands. “Can you describe him for me?”

“He’s outside right now. He’s… he’s downstairs,” she stammers. “Blue suit. White shirt.”

Lorenzo’s eyes meet mine. “Get Sergio and take care of it,” I order.

Lorenzo rushes from the room as Sophia runs her fingers through her hair. She’s visibly upset. “I don’t know what to do. What if I’m next?”

“You’re not.” I take her into my arms and hold her. “It’s all right,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re safe now.”

“I haven’t felt safe since you left me,” she whispers against my neck. I feel her breath on my skin.

She lifts her hand, and the gold bangles that she always wears rattle together.

It’s a familiar sound—one that evokes memories. I feel an unwelcome wave of arousal seep into my body. I instantly release her from my grip and take a step back.

When Sophia fucks, the sound of her bangles hitting together echoes throughout the room. The harder she fucks, the louder the sound.

Fucking her is like a game a child would play to hear the sound—to make it louder. It’s the ultimate aphrodisiac. A goal that drives a man wild. Anytime I hear bangles clang together, I have a physical reaction. I clench my jaw as I try to chase away the memory.

“I miss you,” she whispers.

“Don’t.”

She steps forward and takes my hand to place it over her heart. “How can you push me aside so easily?” Her eyes fill with tears.

“Sophia.” I don’t like seeing her like this.

“I love you, Enrico.”

“Sophia,” I whisper. “You need to understand that I’m with Olivia now.”

“Why do you think it has to be me or her?” Her eyes search mine. “You can have me, too, my darling.”

Our eyes are locked as the air swirls between us.

“You can be married to her and you can love me, too.”

We stare at each other.

“We need each other, Enrico. We need each other’s bodies.” She smiles softly despite her tears. “I can’t come without you. Nobody fucks me like you do.” She lowers my hand to her breast. “Nobody can get the job done. I need your body. No other will do. How could I go back to another man after having you?”

Memories pass between us. Nothing is off the table with Sophia. There’s no denying the woman is on fire in bed.

No.

I take a step back from her. “Stop it.”

She reaches for me. “I know you want me.”

“You’re wrong. I want Olivia.”

“No. You love Olivia. You want me. Your body wants me. You can have it. You don’t have to choose between us, Enrico. Why would you choose when you can have the best of both worlds?”

I glare at her, my anger beginning to escalate. A vision of my pathetic father and grandfather with their mistresses comes to mind. “Just stop it.”

“Give me two hours a week to please you. I’ll do anything you want, my darling,” she whispers seductively. “We could meet on your lunch breaks. I can satisfy you, keep you sated and happy. You can go home to her every night, and nobody will ever know. You have needs that I only I can meet. She won’t get hurt because she will never find out.” She takes my hand in hers again. “Enrico,” she whispers. “Baby, come back to me.”

I get a vision of my Olivia at home with our child. “Sophia!” I snap.

She rises up onto her toes and kisses me. I pull my face away as I lose control of my anger. “Get out.”

Her face falls. “What?”

“Get the fuck out,” I growl. “If you ask me for sex ever again, you’re fired. In fact, just get out now.” I grab her arm and drag her to the door. “Do you fucking understand me?” I open the door, push her out, and I slam it shut. My heart is racing, I’m so angry.

Red is all I see.

I go to the bar, and with a shaking hand, I pour myself a glass of scotch.

I’m rattled that the sound of her bangles affected me physically.

Weak.

I take out my phone and text Olivia to try and calm myself—to remind me of who I am.

How are you feeling, my love?

A reply bounces back.

Better now. Hurry home.

I miss you.

xo

A gun shot rings out outside on the street.

Another one, and then another.

What the fuck?

I run to the window and look down. I can see a commotion and people running out from the building, but I can’t see what’s happened.

“Attack!” I hear Lorenzo’s voice cry out. “Downstairs. Go!”

I run out to see our men running toward the stairwell on high alert.

I grab my gun and follow them. I take the steps two at a time.

Hurry, hurry.

The door opens in the foyer, and my heart drops at the sheer horror before me.

I see Sergio lying in a crumpled heap—a bullet hole in his head. His brains are scattered across the marble floor.

Next to him lies Sophia, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. She’s still clutching her designer bag.

I drop to the floor beside her. “Sophia,” I whisper as I pick up her hand. “Sophia, Sophia!” I cry.

A puddle of dark blood pools around her, and I see that she’s been shot through the chest.

I shake her. “Wake up, wake up.” I look up at the surrounding buildings around us.

My blood runs cold. Dear God.

I look back down as I watch the life slip away from her.

She’s dead.