Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
He trips on the bathmat and kicks it with force across the bathroom. “Fuck off.” He snarls to it.
I rub the soap across my shoulders. “How about this? Before you throw a tantrum and start being a rude prick, you stop and think about how you treat people around you, Enrico?”
The veins are popping out of his forehead now. “Do not dare tell me how to treat people in my own fucking house, Olivia.”
“This is supposed to be my house, too.” I lose the last of my patience. “Angelina deserves your respect. Your father did what he thought he had to do.” I wash my arms with vigor. “I don’t know why you’re taking this so personally.”
His eyes bulge. “You don’t know why I am taking this so personally?” he yells. “You want to know why I came back to you, Olivia?”
I roll my eyes, unaffected or intimidated by his angry outburst. So dramatic.
“Let me tell you right now, it wasn’t because I wanted to marry an Australian.” His face is furious. “I still don’t want to do that.”
What the hell?
“Then don’t!” I scream. I hurl a bar of soap at him. Good God, he’s a bastard. “Just get out.”
“I came back to you because, if I were to marry another woman and had children with her…” He pauses, trying to calm himself down enough to say what he wants to say. “I knew that every time I would look at those kids, I would only see the reasons why I can’t be with you.” His nostrils flare. “And I would fucking despise my own flesh and blood,” he whispers.
Oh…
My eyes fill with tears.
“So, excuse me for being devastated,” he blinks away his own tears, “for now knowing that that’s how my father saw me.” His voice cracks, betraying him. “I was the reason he couldn’t have the life he wanted.” He hits his chest. “I was the reason he wasn’t happy. I am the Italian child he was forced to have.”
My heart drops.
Seeing such a powerful man reduced to feeling like an insignificant child.
“Oh, Rici.” I step out of the shower and take him into my arms. His breath quivers, and I know he’s on the edge, trying to hold it together. “Shh.” I hold him tight as I try to calm him down. I’m wet and water is dripping everywhere, but I don’t care. I hold him for a long time. We stay silent, and with every breath, his arms tighten around me.
I don’t know what to say, because I know that I’ll probably say the wrong thing. He’s thought much deeper into this than I had realized. He thinks he knows how his father would have felt about a child with a woman he didn’t love. Although, I’m sure it’s not as black and white as he sees it, I know for certain that he was loved dearly.
“Rici. Let it go. Let all this anger go. Let’s concentrate on our life together and how we’re going to do things. We have so much to look forward to. Don’t let your father’s mistakes cloud your judgement or make you unhappy. Make a conscious decision to let it go.” His eyes search mine, and I take his face in my hands. “It’s time for us to move forward. For you to bring Ferrara into the next phase. For me and you to love each other our way.”
“I don’t know how to be anything other than angry,” he whispers.
“You talk to me about it and we figure this out together. That’s what partners do. They’re a sounding board for each other. Firing everyone and going crazy is not going to bring him back so you can have your final say. Getting new staff is only going to make your life harder, not easier. You haven’t made the same mistakes your father did. He would be so proud of you.”
He pulls me closer. What I just said meant a lot to him, I can tell.
I search my mind for something I can I say that will make him feel better.
Wait, how do I say it?
“Puoi lavarmi la faccia sotto la doccia?” I ask Translation: can you wash my face in the shower?
He pulls back, his eyes search mine, and he smiles softly.
“Laverò non solo il tuo viso, bella ragazza,” he whispers back.
I stare at him, confused. I don’t understand his reply.
Typical.
He tilts my jaw up so that he has full access to my lips, and he kisses me. His face has softened, and my sweet Rici is back.
“I’ll wash more than your face, my beautiful woman.”
I frown in question. “My face?”
He breaks into a broad smile and my heart melts. I haven’t seen that smile in a long time.
“I wanted you to wash my back.” How do you mix up the words face and back?