The Italian

I stare at Franco, deadpan. I have zero attraction to this man. I’m going to have to text Natalie for an escape plan because this is intolerable.

I glance back up to the table at Enrico. I can hardly drag my eyes away from him.

He’s looking around and the restaurant slowly, and suddenly his eyes meet mine across the room.

Fuck.

A frown cross Enrico’s face as he stares at me.

I snap my eyes away. “Franco,” I whisper. “This isn’t probably…”

Enrico stands and begins to stride over to our table.

Franco grips my hands in his tightly. Holy mother of fuck, help me.

“You want me, I want you,” Franco continues.

Shut up. Shut up now, you horny freak.

“Olivia,” Enrico barks, standing over us.

I look up at him, and the blood drains from my face. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit. His dark hair is in curls, and his big lips are a wonderful shade of fuck me. The bastard has become even better looking than before. How is this fucking possible?

He looks down at Franco and our joined hands. “Who are you?” he barks at him.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Franco replies, winking at Enrico.

My eyes widen.

Enrico glares at him, and his jawline moves as he clenches his teeth. “Get away from her now,” he growls.

Oh, this night is getting worse. “He’s not going away, you go away,” I fire back.

Enrico drops his hands to the table and leans down toward me. “Don’t push me, Olivia,” he hisses.

Who does this fucker think he is? My anger boils. “I’ll push you over in a minute. I said… go… away.” I roll my eyes and pick up my drink to add to the theatrics.

“I need to talk to you outside… now.”

“No. Leave me alone, I don’t want to see you. You’re annoying me.”

But we all know that’s not true. I want to jump into his bastard arms and kiss his bastard lips, and then punch him in the bastard face. Bastard of all bastards.

His brows shoot up in surprise.

Franco chooses now to speak. “You heard her. Fuck off.”

Enrico stands up, his back straightens, and he glares at Franco. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, he just glares at him. If death had a stare… this is it.

My heart is beating so hard, and this is beyond uncomfortable.

“I said, fuck off,” Franco repeats.

“Stop it,” I whisper in a panic. Jeez, does this guy have a death wish? He’s going way too far with the aggression. This is my battle. Only I’m allowed to tell Enrico to go away.

Enrico stares down at Franco as he tucks his hands into his suit trouser pockets. “You should be very careful with who you tell to fuck off,” he warns calmly.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I look between them.