The Italian

I frown as I watch his mouth dust my skin. “I… oh, I…”

He pushes something in his ear, and it is then that I notice he’s wearing an earpiece.

“Me ne vado subito.” Translation: I’ll be right out. His eyes flick to me. “I have to go. My boss is here. I shall be back later.” He kisses my hand again as he stands. “Don’t have fun without me, Olivia.”

He rushes off, and I smile as I watch him disappear out of the room.

He was… interesting.

Giorgio falls back into the seat beside me. “What did he want?” he whispers.

I smile against my champagne glass. “My number, apparently.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up his drink, unimpressed. “I’m sure his boss would be thrilled about that.”

I glance over at him and frown. “Why, who’s his boss?”

Giorgio lifts his chin to the door, and I see Sergio walk into the room with a group of men. Someone is trailing behind them while speaking to another man, and I crane my neck to see who it is. He slowly comes into view.

Black dinner suit.

Square jaw.

Power that emanates throughout the room like a shockwave.

Fuck.

Enrico Ferrara just arrived.

12

Olivia

My stomach flutters and I snap my eyes away, angry that his presence still affects me.

“So, that’s his boss, hey?” I mutter.

“Yep.” Giorgio’s eyes dance with delight. “Enrico Ferrara, the king of Italy. Do you know him?”

“Why would I?”

He smiles and picks up my hands. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

“Then why are you lying to me?”

I stare at him. “Why would you think I know him?”

He shrugs. “Just a hunch.”

“Mr. Ferrara doesn’t interest me.” I don’t want to have this conversation.

“That’s his mother on the other side of the table and his two brothers and his younger sister,” Giorgio continues.

My eyes float over to his table, his mother is talking and smiling with a man, she’s very attractive with a gorgeous figure, I noticed her before I even knew who she was. She has perfectly styled shoulder length dark hair and is wearing a black Gucci dress, the epitome of style. My eyes then go to the young girl, his sister. She’s talking to one of his brothers, the one that I met in Rome, what was his name? The doctor, Andrea, that’s it. She tips her head back and laughs out loud, she’s absolutely stunning and is wearing a modest ice pink dress with long sleeves.

“Fascinating…aren’t they?” Giorgio smiles as he sips his wine.