The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
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I turn back to him through the glass. He has his hands tucked in his pockets as he watches me. I give him a wave, and he blows me a kiss. I get into the elevator with my heart jumping all over the place. I smile broadly at my reflection in the elevator mirrored wall.

Holy shit…. what the hell just happened?

2

Olivia

There’s knocking at the door. It grows louder.

Knock, knock, knock.

Huh?

I lift my heavy head from my pillow. What’s that?

The knocking continues. What the hell? Who’s at the fucking door at this ungodly hour. I roll over to retrieve my phone.

8:30 a.m

I wince in disgust.

The knocking is getting harder now—more urgent.

Shit, what if the buildings on fire? I sit up with a start.

“Coming!” I call.

I walk to the door and peek through the tiny hole to see Enrico standing in the hall.

What the heck?

I keep the chain on, open the door, and peer through the crack.

“Good morning, Olivia.” He smiles proudly.

“What…?” I pause and drag my hand through my hair self-consciously. I must look appalling. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for our date.”

“I thought you said ten?” I frown.

“I couldn’t wait.”

I stare at him, looking all perky and like he’s had a million hours sleep, while I look like roadkill. “I’m not ready. I just woke up.”

“That’s fine.” He smirks and bounces on his toes. “I can wait.”

I glance around my messy room. “Give me a moment.”

I slam the door shut in his face and run like a mad woman, stuffing all of my things back into my suitcase. I glance down at myself wearing only panties and a singlet. This won’t do. I throw on a dress, and I run into the bathroom to brush my teeth, while trying my hardest to wipe the mascara from under my eyes.

He couldn’t wait.

A thrill runs through me, and I smile as I brush my teeth with vigor. I rush back out and see a pair of panties that have fallen out of my suitcase. I pick them up and quickly stuff them under my pillow.

Right.

I drop my shoulders as I try to calm myself down before I open the door, acting completely calm.

Rico smiles knowingly. “Hello.”

“Hi.” I smirk. God, he really is delicious. “Please, come in.”

He walks past me and looks around my room.

“You do know it’s 8:34, right?” I mutter dryly.

“I do.” He stands, not knowing where to sit. He’s wearing blue jeans that fit snug to his thighs and a white T-shirt. His dark hair is messed up, and his big red lips are completely kissable. He’s basically sex on legs.

“We only went to bed five hours ago. Why are you looking all perky?” I gesture to his gorgeousness.

He drops his hands to his hips. “Perky? What is that word?”

I scratch my nest-hair. “Eager.”

His eyes dance with mischief. “I am eager. I thought we could have breakfast together.”

I stare at him, unsure if a date with someone who has this much energy this early is really a wise thing. “I have to shower first. Do you want to go and get a coffee or something? I’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“No. I’ll wait.” He drops to sit on my bed.

I stare at him. I need to dig through my suitcase to try and find the perfect outfit, and I have no idea how to do that while he’s sitting there watching me.

“Umm.” I glance over at my suitcase.

“I’ll wait out on the balcony, shall I?”

“Yes,” I say, relieved. “Do that.” I open the door, and he walks out. He sits down at the small table overlooking the street. “Play with your phone or something,” I tell him.

Delight dances in his eyes as he watches me. “Okay.”

I walk back into the room and unzip my suitcase, what I really want to do is do a handstand on my bed or something.

Holy shit, is this really happening?

I rustle through my clothes—all crumpled and messy. Why don’t I have something ironed, for fuck’s sake? What will I wear?

“What are we doing today?” I call.

“Everything!” he calls back.

Everything. I poke my head around the corner. “Define everything.”

He looks up and our eyes meet. My breath catches. I think he’s the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on.

“Swimming,” he eventually says.

I frown. “Swimming?”

“Among other things. I thought we could do some sightseeing on my motorbike, and then go for a drive down to the beach this afternoon.”

My eyes widen. “You have a motorbike?”

“I do. Do you like motorbikes.”

“I love motorbikes.”

“Me, too.”

“This sounds fun,” I beam.

“That’s me.” He throws me a cheeky wink. “Mr. Fun.”

I giggle because we both know that’s an appalling lie, he’s Mr. Intense, not Mr. Fun.

“If you say so,” I tease. I walk back inside and do another little jig to myself. This is the best day of my frigging life.



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