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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“She’s not finished,” he mutters, unimpressed with the waiter dismissing me.

“Oh, apologies.” The waiter turns back to me. “Will that be all?”

I’m flustered that they’re both watching me. “I was just going to get something sweet, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Get the…” Rico quickly scans the menu. “The Maritozzo.”

I shrug. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“I’ll have the granola with a bowl of fruit on the side.” He folds the menus and gives them back to the waiter, and we watch as he disappears out of sight.

Rico sits back and rubs his pointer over his lips as he watches me. It’s as if he’s assessing me.

“What?” I smile.

“Nothing.” He sips his water. “Just admiring the scenery.”

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I really want to ask him what he was imagining last night when he was pulling his dick. Of course, I won’t.

“Do you come here often?” I ask.

“First time. My apartment is on the other side of town. Old Rome.”

“It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

“I love it here.”

“Do you live alone?”

“I do now. My brother Andrea and I used to live together but we haven’t for five or six years. He lives near the hospital now.”

“You have just the one brother?”

“No, I have another brother, Matteo. He lives in France at the moment. He’s a scientist and is working with a pharmaceutical company doing research.”

“Wow.” I smile. “A doctor, a scientist, and a policeman. Your parents must be proud.”

“I have a sister, too. Francesca. She’s only fifteen.” He smiles wistfully, and I can tell he has a soft spot for her.

“Three big brothers to protect her.” I widen my eyes. “Lucky girl.”

He chuckles as our drinks arrive. “Thank you,” Rico says to the waiter before he turns back to me. “Francesca doesn’t think so. Apparently, we’re the bane of her existence.”

I giggle, imagining being on the wrong side of Enrico. What a nightmare that would be.

“What about you? Where do you live?” he asks.

“I live in Sydney.”

“Who with?”

“Alone.”

His face falls. “You live alone?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-two.”

“Old,” I say.

He chuckles and his eyes linger on my face again. “So, you…” He stops himself.

“Go ahead. Ask whatever you wanted to.”

“You have just come out of a relationship?”

I shrug. “Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“I broke up with my childhood sweetheart when I was twenty-four, and then…” I pause, embarrassed. “Then I met my next boyfriend and I was with him for a couple of years. We broke up over a year ago.”

Our breakfast arrives. It looks amazing as the waiter puts it down in front of us. “Grazie.” I smile before we are left alone again.

Rico looks back up at me. “Why did you break up with the last boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t the one.”

“Who broke it off?”

“I did.”

He picks up his coffee and sips it, seemingly mollified.

“Why are you still single, Rico?”

“I haven’t had a serious girlfriend in years.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I wasn’t ready to settle down.” He pauses and then shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Alarm bells start to go off. Player.

Feeling brave, I blurt out, “Do you sleep around?”

He holds his cutlery mid-air, clearly surprised by my question. “Would it matter if I did?”

“Not really, but it would give me an indication as to who you are.”

“Do you think that the number of people you sleep with determines what kind of person you are?”

“Maybe.”

“In that case, how many men have you had sex with?”

“Two.”

He stares at me, and then blinks. Whether that’s in shock, horror, or awe, I can’t work out.

“Two?” he gasps.

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. “Does that scare you?”

He picks up his coffee and takes a huge gulp before he finally responds. “Should it?’

“Not at all. I’m just super fussy. I have impossibly high ideals when it comes to men.” I bat my eyelashes to try and be cute.

He smirks as if pleased with my answer.

“You didn’t answer my question, Rico,” I tease as I cut into my toast.

“That’s because I’m choosing to avoid it.”

I giggle. “You just answered it anyway.”

He smiles broadly and gives me a cheeky wink.

The energy between us suddenly becomes playful and light. He’s a player. I’m a good girl. The boundaries are set. No false pretenses.

“So, where are you taking me on the back of your bike today, Mr. Ferrara?”

He gives me the best come fuck me look I’ve ever seen. “Somewhere you’ve never been before.”

The air crackles between us, and I get the feeling my good girl image just became his ultimate challenge. Nervous butterflies dance in my stomach.

He takes a spoonful of granola. “When in Rome, Olivia.”

“Do as the Romans do?”

“Or.” He shrugs casually. “Just do the Romans.”

“Oh, that’s witty.” I giggle.

He chuckles. “You like that?”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“It comes naturally.” He raises his coffee cup to me, and I laugh out loud.

“Lucky me.”

We’ve been to the Ostia Antica ruins, The Coliseum, and around the eclectic streets of Rome. The roar of the engine echoes as Rico’s motorbike pulls to a slow stop at the parking lot of the beach. It’s around 3:00 p.m. in the afternoon and the sun is high in the sky. I cling to his broad back. My legs are tucked around him, and the day has been dreamy.


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