The Italian

I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

“And yet, you still don’t know him at all. He would never hurt me. I said, I’ll take care of him.”

“Maso!” Lorenzo snaps.

“Non puo essere solo con lei,” Maso growls back.

“Stop speaking Italian around me!” I snap. “I want to know what you’re saying.”

Maso’s eyes come to me, evidently angered that I questioned him. “I said, you are not safe, and I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

“He would never hurt me,” I repeat. This guy is seriously pissing me off. Actually, they all are. I walk to the front door and open it in a rush. “He’s safe, thank you for seeing him home. Now, I must ask you all to leave.”

They stare at me, shocked.

“Now!” I snap as I hold my hand up toward the door. “Right now, leave.”

The men exchange looks, confused. After a beat, a smile crosses Lorenzo’s face, and he turns to the men who have been rendered speechless. He claps his hands. “You heard the lady. Everybody out.”

The men begin to talk in Italian again but slowly and surely, one by one, they leave. Lorenzo is the last one out of the door, and he smiles and kisses my cheek.

“Put the shutters down, Olivia,” he reminds me softly.

“I know.”

“I’m staying in the other house on the property tonight. If you need me, I’m two minutes away.”

I squeeze his hand, grateful for his support. “Thank you.”

I close the door behind them, flick the lock, and turn toward my drunken man.

He’s now snoring and dead asleep, flat on his back.

I stare at him for a moment. What happened to make him so angry? I’ve never seen him like this, and I know by the way they were all acting that they haven’t seen him like this, either. He’s going to be cold down here with that thin blanket.

I walk upstairs and grab a quilt from one of the spare beds, and then I make my way back down to cover him up. I gently kiss his forehead as I tuck him in and rearrange the cushion under his head.

“Sleep, baby,” I whisper, holding my cheek to his.

Relief fills me that he’s home safe. I’ll have a cup of tea and go to bed. It’s been quite a day.

Ten minutes later, I’m standing at the kitchen sink and I hear a bang behind me. I turn in a rush. Rico is standing at the door watching me, his face murderous. It’s obvious he has no control over himself. Uneasiness fills me at once.

“Rico, what’s wrong?”

He glares at me but stays silent.

“Are you feeling all right?” I ask as Maso’s words float through my mind.

He’s a violent drunk.

He steps forward, and I take a step back.

“What’s wrong… Olivia?” he sneers. I stare at him as my heart begins to beat faster. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“I should.”