“So?” Giorgio sits back on the chair in my office. His mischievous eyes hold mine and I have a sneaking suspicion that he already knows. “What have I missed?”
“Nothing much.” I roll my lips to hide my smile.
“I’ve missed nothing?”
I pretend to type.
He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Why must you torture me, my darling?”
“Torture?” I smile as I type. “How so?”
“Have you seen Mr. Ferrara?”
I turn my attention to him for the first time since he’s been in my office. “What do you know about Mr. Ferrara? How do you know him?”
“Rico and I have been friends for years. I knew his father.”
“And how exactly did it come about me coming to Milan?”
“Rico called me.”
“And said what?”
“He asked me if you had applied for a job there two years earlier. I said I would check it out. I found when I searched your name that you actually had a current job application in place. I called him back, and he asked me if I could arrange for you to be in Milan.”
“But why wouldn’t he call me himself? Why would he need the excuse of Valentino?”
He cringes. “I know, I thought that, too. How exactly did you two meet?”
“Our eyes met across a crowded room. He came over and translated the menu for me, and then he joined me for dinner.”
Giorgio smiles as he listens.
“We ended up spending the weekend together before I left for Sorrento. I’d arranged to meet my girlfriend Natalie there. Enrico and I agreed to meet up again two weeks later.”
“Natalie is your friend who is moving here?”
“She’s here already. She arrived on Friday.”
“Wow.” He swings on his chair, clearly happy for me.
“But get this; the day I left for Sorrento happened to be the same day his father and grandfather were killed.”
His face falls.
“I didn’t hear from him for the entire time I was away, and then when I got back to Rome, someone had planted drugs in my bags.”
Giorgio’s mouth falls open. “Was it him?
“I hope not,” I scoff. “But I didn’t know any of this when I was arrested at the airport.”
Giorgio’s eyes widen. “You were arrested?”
“Yes, and I saw Rico at the police station, but he left me.”
“What do you mean… he left you?”
“He organized for a lawyer to get me off the charges, and he called the embassy, but he never came back and saw me again. I was put on a plane home by his lawyer, not him.”
He presses his fingers against his lips. “Extraordinary.”
I shrug. “I mean, even if we were nothing to each other but friends, you wouldn’t just leave someone that you spent the entire weekend with in prison, would you?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, and especially not him. His loyalty is his strongest trait.” He thinks for a moment. “So, you hadn’t spoken to him since?”
“Not until I ran into him when I was on my Tinder date and he went feral crazy.”
Giorgio’s fascinated eyes hold mine. “What did he say about all of this? How did he explain this?”
I shrug. “He said that he was dealing with the deaths and he just couldn’t handle me and drugs. He said he was in the grieving crisis.”
He frowns. “In all fairness, he was.”
“Did you see him back then?’
He nods. “He was very angry for a long time. He disappeared from the social scene altogether. His brothers both moved back home to help him.”
“Help him with what?”
“As the oldest child, he had to take over the family business. This would have been traumatizing for him.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He sits up and straightens in his chair. “Nothing really, just a lot to get his head around, I imagine.”
“I guess. Anyway, we had a big fight, and then he came to work and waited outside. I don’t know. We’re seeing how things go.”
“Oh, I love this story.” He claps his hands together. “It’s like Cinderella going to the ball.”
I roll my eyes.
“So, what now?”
“He’s away for work for the week. He wants to go away for the weekend.”
“Oh.” He stands. “I’m fitting you out with a new wardrobe. You must look incredible for Mr. Ferrara. You are now officially my hobby.”
I smirk and turn back to my computer. “Actually, his favorite outfit for me is my birthday suit. He prefers me naked.”
Giorgio presses the back of his hand to his forehead and pretends to faint. “Dear God, darling I can’t even imagine what he would be like in bed. His intensity is on another level. You can feel it from across a room.”
I giggle. “Giorgio, you have no idea.”
It’s late on Thursday night. I scroll through my phone, flicking from Facebook to Instagram and back again. Earlier tonight, I went to the gym with Natalie and noticed two men in a car across the road.
I think that maybe they were his men.
Rico hasn’t called me, and to be honest, I thought he would. I mean, if he cares enough to have me watched over like I think he did, I would have at least thought he would check in once in a while.
Stop it. Stop being so needy.
I hate that he brings out this side of my personality. For two years, I’ve blissfully hated him from afar. Now, after one weekend with him, I’m whisked back to the beginning, waiting for him to call.
I scroll through the numbers on my phone and smile when I come to his name.
ENRICO FERRARA
I go back to Instagram, and I see the green light come up. What? Oh shit, I’m calling him. I quickly cancel the call. My phone immediately begins to ring, and his name lights up the screen.
I cringe with regret. “Hello,” I say.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Sorry I didn’t mean to call you.”
“You’re all right?”
“Yes.” I frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Ah.” I hear his voice relax. “I thought something was wrong.”
Something is wrong. You’re not here. “No.” He hangs on the line, silent. “Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yes,” he sighs. “I would prefer to be there with you, but it is what it is.”
“You can come home if you want?”
He chuckles. “I’ll be there tomorrow, my love.”
My love.
“Yes,” I breathe.
“And I’ll whisk you away.”
I smile. “I can’t wait.”
“Me, too.”
The line falls silent again, and I wonder if he’s smiling goofily down the line like I am.
“You looked lovely in that photo you posted this morning. I’ve stared at it all day.”
I bite my bottom lip. I posted a picture of me at my work desk this morning. Giorgio snapped it when I wasn’t looking. But, wait, what?
“How did you see it on my Facebook account? It’s private,” I ask.
“Do you know Beverly Whalen, Olivia?”
“She’s my mom’s friend.” I frown. “Isn’t she?”
“Maybe.” I can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s smiling.
I suddenly want to get off the phone to see who in the heck Beverly Whalen really is.
We fall silent again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he says.
“I’ve been banking my hours this week so I can leave at three.”
“Good girl. I’ll pick you up at three.”
“Okay.” I smile as butterflies dance in my stomach. I get to see him tomorrow.
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.” I hang on the line. After a few moments, he hangs up.
I instantly open Facebook and look up Beverly Whalen on my friend list. The profile pic is a woman. She is one of my mums’ work friends, I’m sure of it. Huh?
I click on her profile. No friends, no address, no details. This is weird. I look up the date we became friends.
I got a friend request from her four weeks after I returned to Australia from Italy. I didn’t even look into her profile because I knew the face on the photo. Holy shit.
Beverly Whalen is Rici Ferrara.
With a stupid, huge smile on my face, I go through all my images over the last two years. He’s liked every single one.
He’s been watching me from afar. I should be appalled, disgusted… outraged.
Instead, I’m utterly thrilled.
He cared. Even though he may be wrapped in a bastard suit, I know he isn’t a bastard. I think that, deep down, I’ve always known that, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to move on from him. I don’t know what happened back then with us, or why he handled things the way that he did, but I don’t think I care anymore. I’m going to try my hardest to take him at face value moving forward.
I stand with a renewed excitement.
I need to pack. I’ve got a dirty weekend with a sex god on the horizon.
I can hardly wait.
The clock strikes three and I have to stop myself from running from my office.
He’s here, just outside. After waiting all week to see him, it’s finally time.
I play it cool and take my time to pack up my desk up. Giorgio swings his head around the door. “Have a wonderful weekend, darling.”
“Thanks.”
For once, everything is going to plan, and not just for me. Natalie seems to have hit it off with her guy, too. She’s going on a date with him tonight that will hopefully last the entire weekend. I’m so relieved. I don’t know if I would have been comfortable going away if I knew she was sitting back here alone.
Giorgio saunters into my office and sits on my desk. “Have you got everything?”
“I’m all packed.” I swing my handbag over my shoulder and kiss his cheek. “Wish me luck.”
He assesses me. “No luck needed.” He stands and straightens my scarf. “Knock him dead.”
My heart begins to race as I make my way downstairs. Finding out that Rico has been stalking me on Facebook for the last two years has made this seem real, and all that more important to get right. I walk out of my building, and I look around.
Where is he? I don’t see him. Panic begins to set in.
Then, a black Ferrari comes around the corner. It drives past me and pulls into the loading bay.
He’s here.
My stomach dances in excitement and I have to stop myself from running to him. I casually walk up to the car as if gorgeous rich men pick me up in black Ferraris every single day.
Calm, calm, keeping fucking calm.
I open the passenger door and lean in. “Hi.”
He smirks. “Hi.”
“Going my way?”
“If I wasn’t already,” his tongues sweeps over his bottom lip, “I am now.” He has a certain twinkle in his eye and seems excited, too.
I bounce into the car, and he grabs my hand. I lean over to kiss him and his eyes flick to the rearview mirror. I sit back in my seat, instantly reminded that we’re not alone.
He pulls back out into the traffic, and then picks up my hand to kiss my fingertips. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” I smile.
I see another two cars pull out behind us, but I push it to the back of my mind as I pretend not to notice. My stomach is dancing, alive with nerves. For the first time since we’ve been together, I actually have hope. Maybe this can be something more?
I didn’t imagine it when we were in Rome. He did feel it too, and I don’t feel near so foolish now. Maybe I’m being presumptuous. I don’t know, but this feels real.
We drive along with my eyes flicking between Rico and the road. He has this smirk on his face, like the guy that got the girl.
“What are you smirking at?”
“Just you.”
“Why?” I smile broadly.
“Are you packed?” he asks as he pulls into my hotel and parks the car.
“Yes, where are we going?”
He turns the car off. “Monte Carlo.”
My eyes widen. “In Monaco?”
“I have a yacht down there.”
“You have a yacht?” I squeak, wide-eyed.
He chuckles, gets out of the car, and comes around to open my door. He takes my hand and helps me from the car. “Yes, I have a yacht.”
“Of course, you do.” We begin to walk into my building. “You have all the toys.”
We get into the lift and he stares straight ahead, while I stare up at him.
Touch me, damn it.
I’m really beginning to hate this no touching in public rule. I want him draped all over me like a scarf. We arrive at my room, and as I unlock the door, his hand takes my hip from behind.
There it is. Touch.
It’s not sexual, not sleazy, but somehow it sends tingles all the way down to my toes. Maybe that’s because I know it’s a prelude of what’s to come. The door opens, and his hand comes from behind me. He pushes it open with force, unable to wait a second longer.
Then he’s on me. His hands are in my hair and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. I smile against his lips.
“That’s more like it,” I whisper. “Took your time.”
For ten minutes, we kiss, and then he takes me into his big, strong arms and holds me tight. We stand cheek-to-cheek for a long time just enjoying holding each other. I’ve missed him.
His lips take mine, slow and deliberate, and I find myself clinging to him as he leads me into temptation.
“Let’s take a shower,” I suggest.
“We can’t, our plane leaves at five. We have to get to the airport.”
“What?” Damn it, I want to have I missed you sex.
“We can relax once we get there.” He kisses me again. “I promise.”
“Fine.” I step back from him and begin to gather my things. Did I pack right for Monte Carlo? What even happens in Monte Carlo? I definitely don’t have any Princess Grace wear in my suitcase.
“Do you wear that dress to work often?” he asks as his eyes skim my body.
I look down at myself. I’m wearing a tight black, woolen turtleneck dress. It has long sleeves and a lower neckline. “Yeah, why?”
His brows crease. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?’
“Because it shows your every curve.”
“And?”
“And I want to be the only one seeing those.” He steps forward and takes me into his arms again. “Your body is for my eyes only.”
“Is that so?” I smile up at him.
“That’s so.”
I love that my body is for his eyes only…this is going very well indeed. “You know, you can’t tell me what to do,” I tease.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Would you like to place a bet on that?” He pumps me with his hips.
I giggle. “I would, actually. I’m in the betting mood. Isn’t that what they do in Monte Carlo?” I bat my lashes.
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?
Are you freaking kidding me?
“Come, Olivia,” Rico says casually, holding his hand out for me. “We will put our bags in our room.” He begins to walk up the stairs.
“There’s a bedroom?” I whisper as I stop on the bottom step.
I look out of the huge glass windows to see the twinkling city lights dancing on the water.
Rico smiles down at me. “There are eight.”
“Eight bedrooms?” I squeak. “Are you kidding me?”
He chuckles and comes back down the stairs to grab my hand.
“This way.”
He leads me up two sets of stairs before he opens up a huge set of black doors. My mouth falls open. It’s the master bedroom suite. There’s a huge king bed in the center, and the room is made entirely of glass on all sides with the most breathtaking views over Monte Carlo. I look out onto the deck below to see a full-sized swimming pool there with a bar and lounge chairs.…what the actual fuck?
“A pool?” I gasp.
Rico laughs. “A pool.”
I walk into the bathroom to find a huge sunken spa bath in the center, the walls and floors are all white marble.
“Holy shit. This is unbelievable. Who knew that boats looked like this?” My eyes find his.
He walks over, closes the bedroom door, and then flicks the lock. “Alone at last.” Like a predator, he steps toward me, and my stomach dances with nerves.
“I like your boat,” I breathe.
“I like you.” He bends to lick the length of my neck, and he bites my ear. Goosebumps scatter up my arms. “Now you can have a shower.” He takes off his suit jacket and throws it onto the chair.
I close my eyes. The heat from his tongue steals my ability to think. He leads me into the bathroom and turns the shower on. Steam begins to fill the room, and in one swift movement, he lifts my dress over my head.
I stand before him in white lace underwear. His hungry eyes drop down my body. “I’ve waited all week to have you.” He unclips my bra and slides my panties down my legs.
I stand before him, naked and vulnerable. “Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”
He smiles darkly and unbuttons his shirt. My chest constricts when I see his broad chest and dark hair. He kicks his shoes off before he unfastens his trousers and slides them down. I’m blessed with the sight of his cock hanging hard between his legs. A smile crosses my face, and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting out words of praise. I need to try and remain cool here. I can’t be his fan girl, but it’s pretty damn hard to stop myself when he’s so fucking gorgeous.
Our lips connect, and he walks me into the shower. The hot water tingles my skin. He pins me to the wall, lifts me, and then in one sharp movement he impales me deep. His cock jerks, and we stare at each other in awe.
“I like your shower,” I whisper.
He smiles darkly. “I’m about to get you dirty in it.”
Hours later
The room is warm and the steam rises in puffs. It’s late, long after a respectable bedtime but we can’t seem to go to sleep.
I smile at the man sitting opposite me in the bath. His hair is wet, hanging sexily over his forehead. His legs are spread, and my feet are resting on his chest. We’ve been in here for an hour. We keep letting the water out as it goes cold and topping it back up.
“We need a bigger bath,” he sighs.
“I think it’s the largest you can get.” I smile dreamily.
It’s perfect. I’m in a steamy hot bath with a sex god. I mean, what else is there in life?
“Tell me about your family?” he says to me.
“What do you want to know?”
“You said your parents got divorced when you were young.”
“Yes.” I pick up a sponge and squeeze the water out of it. “They did.”
“Why?”
“My father had an affair. He…” I pause. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about this. “He was in love with someone else and… he left us.”
Enrico picks up my foot and kisses it, not saying anything in response.
“It changed me. I’ve never been the same since.”
“Why not?”
“A piece of my love for my father died with his admission.” I splash the water up over my breasts as I think back to my painful childhood. “I felt like my whole life was a lie. If he didn’t love my mum, how could he possibly love me?”
Enrico watches me intently.
“I remember crying myself to sleep, wishing I’d been better behaved because then he wouldn’t have left us.”
He picks my foot up and kisses it again.
“I’ll never understand how a person could be married to someone and have feelings for someone else,” I sigh. “I mean, how can that happen?” I sigh.
We stay silent for a while.
“He’s definitely not you,” I add.
“Meaning what?”
“Ferrara’s marry for life.” I smile softly. “Remember when you told me that?”
He clenches his jaw.
“It was one of the most honorable things any man has ever said to me.” I smile.
His eyes hold mine as his face falls.
“Dad went on to marry some other woman. He didn’t even marry the woman he left us for.”
“He didn’t leave you,” he says.
“He did. He left us because my mother was never the same, either. She went a little crazy herself, dating every man that looked her way.”
He runs his hands up my legs as he listens.
“As soon as they brought other people into their lives, it felt like my brother and I didn’t matter to them anymore. I know we did, deep down, but they had a separate life to us then—one we weren’t included in. A secret society for lovers. Children weren’t invited. I knew they both looked forward to their weekends without us so that they could do what they wanted with their new flings. I always felt in the way, and so did my brother.”
Enrico exhales heavily.
“I’m not going to be like them,” I whisper. “Over my dead body will I ever be like them.”
“Is that why you don’t sleep around?”
I think on that for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not wired like that. I have to really feel something to want to have sex with someone.”
“You sleep with me.”
“It’s the weirdest thing. I feel like I know you,” I whisper.
Our eyes lock.
“Have you ever had that feeling that you already know someone, but you don’t?” I ask.
“Yes.” He smiles softly. “I have it with you. I had it from the moment we met.”
I sit up in a rush, and water sloshes everywhere. I lie over his broad body, and his hands come to my behind. “Maybe we were lovers in ancient Roman times.”
He grabs my face and smiles against my lips. “I know we were.”
I smile up at my partner as he twirls me around the dance floor.
The room is lit by candlelight, and there are beautiful people everywhere.
The mood is sultry and romantic, like my outfit. I’m wearing a smoky gray backless dress with spaghetti straps that falls to the floor. It’s Valentino, of course. Giorgio really has injected some serious sexiness into my wardrobe. Not that I’m complaining.
Rico is wearing a black dinner suit. We are in the swankiest restaurant club I’ve ever seen. We’ve had the most amazing day. We woke up late and had a lazy breakfast. After that, Rico took me sightseeing, we’ve laughed and talked and my poor heart may never recover. Having his undivided attention has been perfect in every way. He’s different here—more relaxed. Only a few men are trailing behind us. I didn’t realize how different it is for Enrico in Italy. He has a reputation to uphold there. Everyone double takes when they see him, he is so well known. Here, he can go relatively unnoticed.
This afternoon we went back to the yacht. We made love and drank cocktails on the deck as the sun set over the water.
This is living.
Monte Carlo is beyond incredible. I now know why it’s known as the playground for the rich and wealthy.
It’s the weirdest thing, when I’m with Enrico, I don’t feel out of place. Wherever he belongs, I do, too.
I smile up at him as he moves us to the music.
Wearing his black dinner suit, Enrico’s back is rigid, and his hand is at a respectable height on my waist. Always the perfect gentleman in public—polite and respectful— but he’s always the Devil in private.
He’s two versions of the same song. The good and the bad. I like the good in him, but it’s the bad that I love. He brings out the bad in me, and I happen to love this new version of myself. I’m keeping her.
A song comes on, and I smile as soon as I hear it. “I love this song,” I say. “It’s called ‘Someone You Loved.’”
He frowns as he listens. “Hmm. Not my taste.”
“Why not?” I laugh. “It’s a beautiful song.”
He spins me to the music. “It’s about a man having his heart broken. It’s a sad song.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to dance with you to a sad song. I don’t feel in the least bit sad. Quite the opposite, actually.”
I smile up at my man, his big brown eyes look down at me. Everyone else in the room disappears. “Tell me something about you,” I whisper.
“Like what?”
“Tell me something I don’t know yet.”
He thinks for a moment as we sway to the music. “I hated being away from you this week,” he murmurs softly.
“You did?”
“I had to force myself every day not to come home to you.” I put my head onto his chest and smile against him. He pulls me closer and kisses my temple. “Are you ready to go home, my love?”
My love.
“I am so ready.”
The plane comes to a slow stop on the tarmac at Milan airport, and Rico inhales deeply, as if steeling himself for what’s to come.
Once given the go ahead by the captain, he stands, and I watch him walk around the cabin, talking to Lorenzo, who happens to be multitasking on the phone. Lorenzo seems to be his right-hand man, and most of the details are managed by him. He’s a good-looking man in his mid-fifties, at a guess. He’s handsome and obviously proud. He and the other men speak only Italian to Rico and each other. I’m unsure if they can even understand me. If they can’t, they’ve given me no indication other than a polite nod when I look their way.
I sit and stare out of the window. It’s 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night.
What an amazing weekend.
Work tomorrow, though. Ugh. I could live on that yacht for all of eternity and never miss a thing.
Rico comes back to me. “Are you ready, Olivia?”
My heart drops. I’m Olivia again now. He’s back to being guarded. I much prefer my private man to the one he shows the world.
He takes my hand and helps me out of my seat. I see a black SUV drive onto the tarmac.
Lorenzo bends to look out of the window.
“L’auto è qui.” Translation: the car is here.
“Ok. Andiamo.” Translation: okay let’s go.
Rico presses his hand on the small of my back and leads me from the plane. We are ushered into the back of the car.
“Il mio appartamento.” Translation: my apartment.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
Rico takes my hand and squeezes it on his lap. “My place.”
“Where is this place?” I mutter as I walk down the street with my heavy garment bag.
Damn this, I now know why nobody else jumped at the opportunity.
It’s Monday, and today, at work, some dresses needed to be put in at the dry cleaners on the other side of town. I offered to do it, thinking it would get me out of the office for a while. I got dropped off by the cab three blocks too early, and now I have to walk a mile.
The sequins on these stupid dresses weigh a ton, and my arm is killing me. I sling it over my shoulder and continue to look at the map on my phone. It says it’s five hundred meters away now.
“For fuck’s sake.” I look back up at the road in front of me and stop still.
Enrico just walked out of a restaurant with a woman. He’s wearing a dark navy suit, and he looks every bit the Playboy millionaire.
The woman is beautiful with long, thick dark hair. She’s wearing a fitted grey dress with a plunging neckline and high heels. She has big maroon lips, and her makeup looks perfect. Her Prada bag is tucked securely over her arm.
He has his hand at the small of her back and he is talking to her as he leads her out to a car. He says something. She laughs and kisses his cheek before he opens the door of the black Mercedes and she gets in.
He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in. They pull out and drive away, still deep in conversation.
I watch the car as it disappears down the street.
Who the fuck was that?
