The Italian

I play it cool and take my time to pack up my desk up. Giorgio swings his head around the door. “Have a wonderful weekend, darling.”

“Thanks.”

For once, everything is going to plan, and not just for me. Natalie seems to have hit it off with her guy, too. She’s going on a date with him tonight that will hopefully last the entire weekend. I’m so relieved. I don’t know if I would have been comfortable going away if I knew she was sitting back here alone.

Giorgio saunters into my office and sits on my desk. “Have you got everything?”

“I’m all packed.” I swing my handbag over my shoulder and kiss his cheek. “Wish me luck.”

He assesses me. “No luck needed.” He stands and straightens my scarf. “Knock him dead.”

My heart begins to race as I make my way downstairs. Finding out that Rico has been stalking me on Facebook for the last two years has made this seem real, and all that more important to get right. I walk out of my building, and I look around.

Where is he? I don’t see him. Panic begins to set in.

Then, a black Ferrari comes around the corner. It drives past me and pulls into the loading bay.

He’s here.

My stomach dances in excitement and I have to stop myself from running to him. I casually walk up to the car as if gorgeous rich men pick me up in black Ferraris every single day.

Calm, calm, keeping fucking calm.

I open the passenger door and lean in. “Hi.”

He smirks. “Hi.”

“Going my way?”

“If I wasn’t already,” his tongues sweeps over his bottom lip, “I am now.” He has a certain twinkle in his eye and seems excited, too.

I bounce into the car, and he grabs my hand. I lean over to kiss him and his eyes flick to the rearview mirror. I sit back in my seat, instantly reminded that we’re not alone.

He pulls back out into the traffic, and then picks up my hand to kiss my fingertips. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.” I smile.

I see another two cars pull out behind us, but I push it to the back of my mind as I pretend not to notice. My stomach is dancing, alive with nerves. For the first time since we’ve been together, I actually have hope. Maybe this can be something more?

I didn’t imagine it when we were in Rome. He did feel it too, and I don’t feel near so foolish now. Maybe I’m being presumptuous. I don’t know, but this feels real.

We drive along with my eyes flicking between Rico and the road. He has this smirk on his face, like the guy that got the girl.

“What are you smirking at?”

“Just you.”

“Why?” I smile broadly.

“Are you packed?” he asks as he pulls into my hotel and parks the car.

“Yes, where are we going?”

He turns the car off. “Monte Carlo.”

My eyes widen. “In Monaco?”

“I have a yacht down there.”