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)
“Thanks.” She smiles. “You, too. How’s it going with Mr. Italy?”
“Good. Great, actually.” I smile back at her. “He’s so fucking beautiful, Nat.”
“Liv, just be careful. This guy broke you twice already.”
“I know, but it’s different now.”
Her eyes hold mine. “Have you met his family?”
“No.”
She rolls her lips, unimpressed.
“Only because it’s been hectic. He’s had so much on, and there are people in the fucking house all the time.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s security, drivers, cooks, and house maintenance. I’m lucky to get him alone for two minutes. If we do, we go to bed and end up fucking all night and I forget everything I wanted to talk about.”
She gives an over exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, poor you, cooks and cleaners and a sex god. Sounds woeful,” she mutters dryly. “How do you cope?”
I smirk. “When you put it like that.”
She raises her glass and we clink them. “To Italians.” She smirks.
“To Italians,” I repeat with a giggle. My phone vibrates on the table, and the name Rici lights up the screen. “Hello,” I answer.
“Hello, my bella,” his deep voice purrs down the phone.
A goofy grin erupts at the sound of his voice. “Hi,” I breathe.
Natalie rolls her eyes at me.
“We are just coming out of the offices now. I’ll be there in five minutes,” he says.
“Okay, see you soon.”
He hangs up.
“Look at you,” Natalie sighs. “You’re like all starry-eyed when you speak to him.”
I smile as I drain my glass. “He’s the one, Nat. I’ll bet my life on it. I’m marrying him.”
“Oh, Jesus. Just calm down for two minutes. It’s, like, week six.”
“I know, but sometimes you just know these things. I have to go. Are you coming to the gym with me in the morning?”
“What time you going?”
“Seven—seven thirtyish.”
“I can’t, I’m starting at eight.”
“I’m so excited you got the job.”
Her eyes widen. “Can you believe it? Me! A personal assistant to a judge.”
“So, you’re going to wear what we talked about? The black suit.”
“Yes.” She scrambles around under the table and finds the plastic bag. “Thanks for the shoes. I’ll give them back as soon as I have time to buy some new ones.”
“It’s a pleasure loaning you sensible work heels so you can look hot for your new boss.”
She giggles. “Oh my God, you should see this guy.”
“I can’t wait to.” I glance up and see Maso on the phone. His eyes meet mine across the bar, and I know Enrico is here. “Got to go.” I give my friend a hug and a kiss, and make my way out of the bar.
Maso and Marley fall in beside me. We walk out and see the black Mercedes wagon parked in the loading bay. Maso opens the back door, and there he sits. My man is wearing a navy suit and a white shirt. With his black, curly hair, and the most perfect chiseled jawline in all of history, it’s a sight to behold. His big brown eyes meet mine.
“Hello, my darling,” he says softly.
My heart stops…knowing that I am the only person who gets this side of him.
Enrico Ferrara hates most of the world…but he loves me.
With all of his heart, he loves me.
I have to stop myself from diving across the seat to him. “Hi.” I get into the car and shimmy across the back seat to kiss him softly. He glances at the rearview mirror, reminding me we are not alone. Annoyed, I go back to my seat and put my seatbelt on. He smiles and his eyes linger on my face. He picks up my hand and kisses the back of it as the car pulls out into the traffic.
“How is your friend?” he asks.
“Good,” I breathe. I’ve missed him today. “How was your day?”
“Average.” He gives me a slow sexy smile. “Better now.”
My eyes search his. I try to send him a telepathic message telling him how much I’ve missed him. I wish these damn men in the front seat weren’t with us all the time.
“Me, too,” he whispers.
My heart somersaults. He understood what I wanted to tell him. I put my head back onto the headrest and smile dreamily.
With our entwined hands resting on his thigh, we drive through the night, back to Lake Como.
He falls silent as he stares out the window, deep in thought. I watch him. What was it like to grow up in these conditions? To never have the freedom to say what you want, when you want. My thoughts go to his mother. She would have been guarded around the clock, too. How did she feel when her husband left her to go another woman? I mean, it’s bad enough that she knew where he was, but to have all these spectators bear witness to it must have only magnified the horror.
God…. I feel sorry for her. That poor, poor woman.