The Italian

“Do you live here?” he asks.

“No. I live in Milan.” We begin to go up the service steps at the back of the building. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

The close proximity of his body next to mine sends goosebumps up my arms.

“Enrico is your brother?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply as we get to the top of the stairs.

“Where is the guest room?”

My heart begins to thump hard in my chest and I nervously point down the hall. “This way.” We walk down the hallway, and I show him the first guest room.

He looks around it and smiles. “Nice.”

“How many rooms are there on this floor?”

“Oh, um.” I frown. “I have no idea.”

He goes out into the corridor and counts the rooms. “Is this the bathroom in here?” he asks.

I’m so damn nervous that I can hardly speak. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

We walk in and gesture around the room with my hand. “This is it.”

“It’s lovely,” he whispers, his eyes drop to my lips.

The air leaves my lungs and he turns and closes the door behind us.

His eyes hold mine and my chest rises and falls as I fight the urge to run.

He steps toward me and picks up my hand. “I’m so sorry, but you are too beautiful. I have to kiss you.”

My eyes widen in horror.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I stammer.

He smiles as he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m a good teacher.”

Oh my God…is this happening?

He leans in slowly, and his lips softly brush mine. My eyes close at the contact. His tongue gently sweeps through my lips and he smiles against me. It’s a sweet kiss—one that’s gentle and tender.

The air leaves my lungs.

“It’s nice to meet you, Francesca.” His hand slides down and takes mine in his. Our foreheads touch, and this feels special.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Giuliano.”

26

Olivia

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks of utter bliss.