The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
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It’s after 6:00 p.m. now, and she’s finished work for the day. I watch for the moment she sees me. Her eyes light up before she makes her way to the car.

“Hi.” She beams as she bounces in. “You finished work already?” She leans over and kisses me.

“I took the afternoon off.” I pull out into the traffic.

“Oh.” A frown mars her face. “What did you do?”

“Picked up a few things, delivered a few parcels.”

“Well, I hope I’m the only parcel recipient.” She smirks.

I take her hand. “One and only.” I kiss her fingertips.

Her eyes hold mine, and she gets this dreamy smile on her face—the one that makes me want to be a better man.

We drive in comfortable silence for a while as I navigate through the traffic. Olivia eventually begins to chatter and talk about her day. She tells me about her new shoes giving her blisters, and a man at work who annoys her. A movie she wants to watch on Netflix tonight, also. Basically, anything that pops into her head. I smile as I listen to her. She’s so disarmingly normal.

“Have you been back to the apartment yet today?” she asks.

“Yes.” I pull into the underground parking lot. The two security cars pull in behind us. I park the car and take Olivia’s hand. We make our way into to the elevator. “Feels like ages since we came here.”

“Hmm,” I mutter, distracted. “Did you like your present?” I ask, noticing that she hasn’t mentioned it.

“Oh, I love it. I just didn’t open it yet.”

“How do you know that you love it then?”

“Because you gave it to me. Besides, you know material gifts aren’t really my thing.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Material things aren’t the type of present I want from you.”

Great. Now this night may not go the way I had planned. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, sorry. I sound ungrateful. I’ll open my gift as soon as we get to the apartment.” She leans up onto her toes and kisses me. “Thank you. You’re very thoughtful.”

The elevator doors open, and I put my hand into my suit pockets and pause as I wait for her to step forward. Her eyes fly around in wonder. “Enrico!” she gasps. “What in the world…?”

I wince as I look around. Maybe I went a little too far.

There are bags and bags of designer clothes all around. Shoes boxes are stacked in two lots of ten. There’s Christian Louboutin, Manolo Blahnik’s, Valentino, Jimmy Choo, plus a few racks with evening dresses lined up. Six huge bunches of red roses sit in large crystal vases, and there’s a sliver tray of chocolate covered strawberries beside a bottle of the best champagne money can buy.

Her eyes come to mine. “What did you do?” Her tone is clipped.

I shrug casually, trying to play it down. “I took the liberty of buying you a few things.”

She frowns as she looks around. “This isn’t a few things. This is an entire shop.”

“You had nothing.”

“I don’t need all this,” she scoffs. “And, I didn’t have nothing. I had you. That’s all I need.” She gives a disgusted shake of her head and walks up the stairs.

“You’re welcome!” I call as I survey the fruits of my shopping expedition.

“Yeah, thanks!” she calls out.

“Are you going to come and open them?”

“No, it’s okay. You do it.” She’s upstairs now. “These things are your jam, not mine.”

“You know, you could at least be a little excited,” I call.

“Cook me dinner. That will excite me. You know… like a normal boyfriend.”

I frown. What? “I don’t cook, and I don’t do fucking normal.”

“Ha, funny that. I don’t speak Italian but I’m learning because I know you like it.”

I roll my eyes. Here we go. Smartass.

I hear the shower turn on, and I give the Louboutin box a subtle kick with my toe.

“Well, that fucking backfired, didn’t it?” I mutter under my breath. “Cook her dinner. What next?”

It’s just past 10:00 p.m. and I’m lying on the sofa behind Olivia. She’s in her pyjamas, watching a movie on Netflix. She’s makeup free, relaxed, and happy. Her blonde hair is splayed across my arm. The sound of her laughter makes me smile. I have no idea what she’s watching—some Jennifer Aniston movie.

While she watches the movie, I’m watching her.

Her smile is like a drug to me. Her soft soul has carved its way under my skin, and her body… God… it’s an addiction I have to feed.

I’ve never felt like this—never had any idea that I could be so intoxicated by a single person.

I’m drunk on the feeling she gives me. My heart is literally in her hands.

She told me tonight that she doesn’t need anything money can buy, and for the first time in my life, I actually understood it.

Being here with her is the ultimate prize.


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