The Italian
He chuckles and turns me away from him, and he playfully slaps my behind. “Get your things. We need to go.”
“Stop rushing me. I want to stay here and be naked and playful.”
“Well, I want to get there so you can be naked and under me.”
Our eyes lock, and he gives me the best come fuck me look of all time.
“Okay then. That’s definitely more of an incentive.” I begin to rush to get my things together.
“Like I thought.”
I pass him my travel suitcase, and then I grab my makeup purse and tuck it in my handbag. I do a quick last check. “Okay, let’s go.”
He smiles, then leans in and takes my face into his hands to kiss me slowly. “It’s good to see you, Olivia Reynolds,” he whispers.
I run my fingers through his dark stubble and stare into his big brown eyes. He’s so hard and masculine, yet soft to my touch. Just like his personality. He can act hard with me all he wants, but I know the real him. I want to blurt out that I missed him…. stop it.
Don’t be a pushover, play it cool I remind myself.
Calm, calm…keep fucking calm, I pull out of his arms. “Let’s go, Mr. Ferrara.”
* * *
We walk down the dock in Monte Carlo, and my heart is in my throat. Gorgeous boats are lined up, one after the other. I don’t know much about boats, but I do know this is some serious boat porn.
This afternoon has been quite daunting, I met Rico’s four closest staff: Lorenzo, Maso, Marley, and George. They seemed nice, although Lorenzo stands out as my favorite. His smile was warm and welcoming.
We caught our flight here in a private jet. We drank champagne, talked, and I have to admit that I’m having a hard time not openly staring at Enrico Ferrara. He seems to be getting more and more handsome by the hour… or perhaps that’s just my lady parts swooning at his masculine ways.
“This way.” Enrico leads me down the boardwalk. Unable to help it, I link my arm through his. A smile crosses his face.
We walk up a private jetty. I frown and stop on the spot.
“That’s your boat?” I ask him.
“Yes.” He continues toward it. “Come, Olivia.”
It’s huge, white, and I count the floors by the rows of windows. One, two, three, four… five. It’s a five-fucking story boat.
Are you serious?
There are five staff waiting at the boarding gate to welcome us aboard, and Rico shakes their hand as he boards.
“Please meet Olivia,” he tells them. “Dote on her this weekend.”
The captain smiles and nods. “Yes, sir.” He turns and shakes my hand. I feel like the queen or something and slipping into the sea with embarrassment. I go along the line and shake everyone’s hand as Rico leads me onto the boat… yacht… whatever the hell this thing is.
He turns back to them. “We would like privacy all weekend.”
The captain nods. “Yes, sir, of course.”
The deck is made of beautiful, light timber, and huge deckchairs face out to the ocean. The entire level is glass, and when we get to the doors, I stop still again.
What the fuck?
There’s a grand living area filled with big luxurious couches and a mini grand piano. The carpet is a gorgeous coffee color, and chandeliers hang wherever possible. I look over to the stairs golden balustrade, and I see a glass elevator sitting to the right of it.
An elevator? On a boat?