Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
It’s every man for himself now.
The waiter leaves us alone, and Franco looks over at me. “It’s so good to finally see your face, Olly.”
I fake a smile. “Yours, too.” I look over his shoulder to the level above. Enrico is sitting in the corner with a group of men. He says something, and they all burst out laughing. What was so funny? His hair is a little longer than when I was with him. His face is still…
“How are you liking Italy?” Franco breaks me from my thoughts.
I drag my eyes back to my date. “Great, thanks.”
I don’t want Enrico to see me. What am I supposed to do? Should I leave? What would I say?
“I’ve been looking forward to our date all week.” Franco smiles.
The waiter arrives with our drinks. “Here you go.”
I pick the glass up and immediately take a big gulp. “Can you bring me another, please?” I ask. Franco and the waiter exchange puzzled looks.
“So thirsty,” I mutter into my glass. “Parched, actually.”
“Tell me all about yourself,” Franco asks sexily. His eyes focus in on me as he waits for me to speak.
I stare at him. “You want to know about me?” What do I say? I don’t fuck on first dates because the one time I did, the guy was a bastard and, oh, guess what? He’s right over there, leaving me to look for the closest escape route?
“Well…” Enrico laughs out loud. I stop still. He has the most incredible laugh.
I snap my eyes back to Franco, shit what was I saying? I pause as I try to get my bearings. Damn, Enrico has me completely frazzled. “Well, as you know, I’m Australian and I’ve recently moved to Milan for a job.” I sip my drink. I don’t want to tell him too much in case he’s a serial killer or something. “I’m having a great time. Why don’t you tell me about you instead?”
“Okay, I’m in banking…” He begins to talk but I completely zone out as my eyes roam up to the man at the table above us.
Enrico Ferrara.
He’s wearing a dark suit, and he looks different. More… cultured or something. Older.
But what the hell is he doing in Milan?
I frown as a distressing thought springs to mind. Oh no. Seraphina!
He is Seraphina’s fiancé. Of course, he is. She’s frigging beautiful.
Oh God, this is my worst nightmare.
I pick up my glass and drain it. I glance up to see Franco frown as if he is waiting for me to say something. Wait, did he ask me a question? My eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”
“I really like you,” he whispers.
What? I’ve said three words. How can you really like me? I fake a smile. “Great.”
Her grabs my hand across the table. “Let’s cut to the chase.”
I stare at him. Okay.”
“I like you, you like me…”
I take another big gulp of my drink. I wasn’t joking before; I really am parched. It’s bordering on deep dehydration now.
“Let’s have dinner and go home. I know the perfect way to get to know each other.”
I choke on my drink. “What?” I splutter, coughing.
“I mean, we can just fool around if you like.”
“Fool around?” I frown as I glance back up to Enrico. Oh man, this night is going down in the history books as the worst date ever. I open the menu and gaze at the selections. “Let’s just eat, Franco. I’m not that type of girl. I’m offended that you think I am.”
“Oh.” His face falls. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Well, you did. I’m not going home with you, so get it out of your head right now.”
I try to control my racing heart, and I can feel perspiration heat my underarms.
Just act calm, for fuck’s sake. You can get the hell out of here as soon as you eat.
“Hmm, what looks good?” I hope I get food poisoning and get taken away in an ambulance. Anything is better than this.
My eyes float back up to Rico. His legs are wide, his back is straight, and everything about him screams dominant male. He’s deep in conversation, smoking a cigar as he drinks out of a small crystal tumbler. I’ve never seen anyone smoke sexily before… but of course, he is. The way his lips wrap around the cigar, his cheeks hollow as he sucks. His eyes are dark, and fuck me, he’s so hot.
I imagine him leaning back against the headboard naked after having sex, smoking a cigar. His cock still hard and throbbing… weeping. He could make anything look sexy.
My blood begins to boil as I remember the last words he spoke to me.
You’re more trouble than you’re worth.
An attractive waitress says something in his ear as she leans over him. He gives her a sexy smile and winks.
Huh, what did she just say? Did she ask for his number or something?