4
Enrico
It’s dawn, and I’m sitting on the side of the bed watching Olivia sleep.
Her naked breast rises and falls with her every breath, and her long, thick, blonde hair is splayed across my pillow.
Breathtaking.
This woman is utterly breathtaking.
Arousal isn’t the only thing I’m feeling. It’s a closeness… a strange attachment.
I walk to the window, pull the drapes back, and stare out at the street below as I imagine what would happen if I brought Olivia to meet my family.
An Australian.
It would be frowned upon. Blasphemy!
The Ferrara’s eldest son not taking an Italian as a partner? I imagine my grandparents and their reaction.
The gossip that would follow.
It would kill them.
My stomach twists at the thought of letting them down.
For years, I’ve been set up with every well-bred Italian woman known to my family. Every time, they hope and pray that she will be the one I fall for. They’ve lined them up—ticked them off their list. The women have come from far and wide as my family try and coax me into who I should be dating.
Someone who is good for me.
Someone who will be
the next Ferrara.
So far, nobody has interested me in the slightest.
I exhale heavily. Why the fuck does a woman from the other side of the world who is completely wrong for me finally make me feel something?
Typical.
She inhales sharply as she rolls over and puts her arm out for me. “Rici?” she murmurs in her sleep as she feels around the bed.
I go to her and sit down, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “I’m here, bella.”
She smiles with her eyes still closed, and she takes my hand to kiss the back of it. “Come back to bed, baby,” she whispers, her voice husky from sleep.
“You have to get up. It’s time to go, angel.” I smile softly as I watch her.
She scrunches her face up, her eyes closed as she groans.
I stare at her as I fight to hold my tongue. I want her to stay. I don’t want to let her get on that plane. I want her to stay here with me… in the moment.
But I won’t.
She needs to go, and she needs to go soon.
* * *