* * *
“What about this?” I come out of the closet in a pink dress. I hold my hands out to give him the full effect. “Is this better?” I do a twirl.
Enrico rolls his eyes. “You look gorgeous, like you have in the last five dresses. Just pick one because we need to go.”
God, all this fucking picking outfits lately has me going crazy. I wish Giorgio never showed me that damn newspaper. Now I’m second-guessing every damn outfit I wear.
How the fuck am I supposed to compete with Bianca?
“Pick one,” he repeats.
I look at him, deadpan. He doesn’t need to worry because he looks amazing in anything he wears, and how wrong can you go in an Armani suit?
I turn and look at my behind in the mirror. “I’m getting a fat ass already.”
He smirks.
“Your baby is making me fat.” I huff as I walk into the wardrobe. “What do you wear to fucking church, anyway?” I call as I flick through all the coat hangers.
“The word fucking doesn’t go in that sentence, Olivia!” he calls back.
“Stop telling me not to swear.”
“I never knew a mother who swore so much.”
“The baby isn’t here yet so I’m saying all the fucks I can.”
God, so many dresses and none that look good.
I’m nervous as all hell. I’m going to church with the Ferraras.
The whole damn family is coming. Enrico’s brothers are home, and after church we are going back to Nona’s. It’s Sunday, and I was supposed to be having a cooking lesson, but I hope she’s forgotten.
I know I want to.
At this stage, I don’t care if Enrico eats toast for the rest of his life.
I put on a cream pantsuit. It has fitted trousers and a matching blazer jacket. I study myself in the mirror.
“Okay, we can work with this.” I take the jacket off and put on a bronze silk blouse before draping the jacket over the top. I undo the top button of my blouse and walk out of the wardrobe. “Do I look like I’m going to work?”
Enrico looks up. His eyes drop down my body and he gives me a slow, sexy smile. “If being on your knees and sucking my cock is the work you want to be doing, then yes.”
I put my hands on my hips and give him a wiggle. “Yes?”
He nods once. “Yes.”
I walk back into the wardrobe and put a high heel sandal on one foot and a closed in pointy pump on the other. I clomp out. “What shoes say that I am a sensible, church-going Italian.”
Enrico chuckles. “Nobody is listening to your shoes because your outfit screams bend me over the pew and fuck me hard.”
“This suit is such a slut. I had no idea.”
“Filthy. In fact, get out here now.”
I go back into the wardrobe to continue getting ready. I apply sensible makeup and style my hair in big waves. I clip it back on one side. Twenty minutes later, I walk out into my bedroom. “Are you ready to go?”
“Have been for half an hour now,” he replies flatly. He walks over to me and does up my top button. I let him because he will make me do it up anyway.