The Italian

I wait for ten minutes, and then I hear the shower turn off.

The doorbell rings again.

Damn that doorbell! He’s going to go postal if she’s come back.

I walk out into the living area and see a blonde woman at the door.

He must know her, or the guards wouldn’t have let her in.

I open the door. “Hello.” I smile, relieved that it isn’t that whorebag Sophia.

The woman is in her fifties at a guess. She’s naturally pretty. She twists her hands in front of her nervously.

“Hello,” she says softly. “My name is Angelina.”

Someone with manners, at last. “What a beautiful name.” I shake her hand. “Hello, my name is Olivia.”

Her eyes dart into the house. “I was wondering if Enrico is home.”

“Um.” I frown. “Yes. He is.”

“Could…?” She pauses before finding her bravery. “Can I see him, please? We need to talk.”

“No!” Rico snaps from behind me. “Leave,” he barks.

Her face falls.

“E-Enrico,” I stammer as I turn toward him, shocked by his rudeness.

“Please, we need to talk, Enrico,” she says softly.

He glares at her with such contempt. “I want nothing to do with you. You or your bastard son.”

23

Olivia

He steps in front of me and slams the door shut in her face, and then he storms back up the stairs.

Oh my god.

Horrified, I open the door back up in a rush.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t know what’s come over him today. This is just a really bad time.” I glance up the stairs. “Shall I get him to call you or something?” I ask, looking back at her.

Tears well in her eyes, and she nods. “Thank you.” She steps back and turns to Lorenzo who’s standing at the bottom of the steps. His face is solemn, and he shakes his head, angered by Enrico’s rudeness.

“Come, Angelina, I’ll take you home,” he tells her.

Visibly upset, she walks down the stairs. Lorenzo puts his comforting arm around her, and they walk out to one of the cars before they get in and drive away.

Bastard son…

What did he mean by that?

My eyes widen as I connect the dots. Holy shit, that’s her! His dad’s lover.

I glare up the stairs to where he’s disappeared. I’m suddenly furious. What is his fucking problem today, anyway? How dare he take his anger out on her? This isn’t her fault. She never lied to him. That was his prick-faced womanizing father. Angelina’s only crime was to love someone too much for her own good.