The Italian

I’m drunk on the feeling she gives me. My heart is literally in her hands.

She told me tonight that she doesn’t need anything money can buy, and for the first time in my life, I actually understood it.

Being here with her is the ultimate prize.

I tighten my arms around her and pull her close. She laughs out loud again.

“This is the most hilarious show ever,” she tells me.

I smile into her hair. “I know, bella,” I lie. “I know.”

Olivia

We drive up the huge driveway through the rolling green hills and I look around in awe. Just when I think that I’ve become accustomed to Enrico’s money, he brings me here to this next level mansion, his mother’s house.

“She knows we’re coming, right?” I ask nervously.

His eyes flick over as he concentrates on the road. “Of course, she does.”

I glance behind us to see the cavalcade of cars trailing us up the majestic road that pretends to be a driveway.

“What did she say when you said you were bringing me here?” I ask.

He frowns at my stupid question and he holds his hand up as it rests on top of the steering wheel. “Good, see you then.”

“Oh right.” I nod. “She knows I’m Australian, right?”

“Yes.”

I get a vision of her hurling abuse in Italian and chasing me away from her beloved boy with a rolling pin. “Because I just want to know what her reaction will be to me.”

“Olivia.” Enrico puts his hand on my thigh. “Stop worrying.”

I nod as I peer out the window at all the white horses in the paddocks. I turn to him suddenly panicked. “She won’t want to go horse riding, will she?” My face falls in horror. “Because I don’t know how to ride horses, Enrico. It’s just going to awkward and she’ll hate me forever.”

He breaks into a deep chuckle and squeezes my thigh. “You ride very well.”

“This isn’t funny,” I snap.

“Olivia.” He looks over at me. “My mother just wants to see me happy.”

My worried eyes hold his.

“And I am.” He smiles broadly. “Stupidly happy.”

I nod, mollified for the moment. “Okay.” We pull up to the house and my heart begins to pump hard.

Please let her like me. Please let her like me.

I don’t know much about Italy, and I don’t know much about mother-in-law’s. But I do know that Italian mothers are supposed to be crazy possessive over their children. Especially their sons.

I look down at myself and smooth my dress. “Are you sure I look alright?” I whisper. “Maybe I should have worn pants?”

He rolls his eyes and gets out of the car and I sit nervously as he comes around and opens my door. The property is huge and fancy, even the gates back at the road were gilded gold. There is security everywhere and this is next level fucking terrifying.

“I’m so nervous,” I tell him.

“Really?” he says with a sexy wink as he helps me out of the car. “I would never have guessed.”