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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Angelina is a blonde woman, pretty and middle aged. Giuliano, the boy, is around my age. His eyes come to me and I feel a flutter in my stomach.

He has dark hair, huge brown eyes, and olive skin. He’s tall, lean, and he has big red lips.

Oh…...

He frowns as his eyes hold mine.

My heart begins to beat faster—so fast, that I have to concentrate on breathing.

The adults talk for ten minutes and I sit nervously to the side. I can feel him staring at me. Every now and then I glance over, he doesn’t look away but gives me a soft smile instead.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Oh…he makes me nervous.

“Francesca, why don’t you show Giuliano around the property? I need to talk some business with his mother,” Enrico says.

Giuliano stands immediately. “That would be nice.”

Oh my God.

I force a smile and nod. “Okay.” I gesture to the backyard. “This way.” I walk out and he falls in line beside me. We walk in silence for ten minutes through the garden. I’m too nervous to speak. The air between us is electric.

“Hello,” he eventually whispers.

His voice is deep and raspy. It does things to me.

“Hi.”

“And to think that I didn’t want to come today,” he says.

I frown. “Why do you say that?”

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

My heart completely stops as we stare at each other.

Not as beautiful as you.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks as we walk around to the side door.

I shake my head. “No.” I want to ask him if he has a girlfriend, but I can’t push the words past my lips.

“Do you live here?” he asks.

“No. I live in Milan.” We begin to go up the service steps at the back of the building. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

The close proximity of his body next to mine sends goosebumps up my arms.

“Enrico is your brother?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply as we get to the top of the stairs.

“Where is the guest room?”

My heart begins to thump hard in my chest and I nervously point down the hall. “This way.” We walk down the hallway, and I show him the first guest room.

He looks around it and smiles. “Nice.”

“How many rooms are there on this floor?”

“Oh, um.” I frown. “I have no idea.”

He goes out into the corridor and counts the rooms. “Is this the bathroom in here?” he asks.

I’m so damn nervous that I can hardly speak. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

We walk in and gesture around the room with my hand. “This is it.”

“It’s lovely,” he whispers, his eyes drop to my lips.

The air leaves my lungs and he turns and closes the door behind us.

His eyes hold mine and my chest rises and falls as I fight the urge to run.

He steps toward me and picks up my hand. “I’m so sorry, but you are too beautiful. I have to kiss you.”

My eyes widen in horror.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I stammer.

He smiles as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m a good teacher.”

Oh my God…is this happening?

He leans in slowly, and his lips softly brush mine. My eyes close at the contact. His tongue gently sweeps through my lips and he smiles against me. It’s a sweet kiss—one that’s gentle and tender.

The air leaves my lungs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Francesca.” His hand slides down and takes mine in his. Our foreheads touch, and this feels special.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Giuliano.”

26

Olivia

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks of utter bliss.

Enrico and I stay in Milan from Monday to Thursday and on Fridays we go to Lake Como for the weekend.

The best of both worlds, privacy and luxury.

I’m so damn happy that I could explode.

“I was thinking we could maybe go out for some dinner and drinks tonight with Natalie.” I pull my black pencil skirt up and raise the zipper. “I haven’t seen her much, and I want to make an effort.”

It’s Wednesday morning, and we are at the Milan apartment getting ready for work. Enrico is in the bathroom with a white towel around his waist, shaving. “If you like,” he says as he concentrates on his task.

I watch him in the mirror as he slowly slides the razor over his chiseled jaw. No matter how many times I watch him do this, it will never be enough. I’ve found that the best way to ensure that I make it to work on time is to keep my distance while he gets ready in the morning. Him wearing a sharp designer business suit, encasing all that man, is simply to gorgeous for words. I throw on my dusty pink, chiffon, ruffled shirt, and I fasten the buttons.

“Maybe I could invite Giorgio and his boyfriend, too. I would like Natalie to get to know them better.”

“If you wish.” He continues shaving.


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