Page 8 of The Italian
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks. “I have the weekend off. I can take you sightseeing.”
“Really?”
He takes a step back from me, creating distance, and I know he’s trying to calm his throbbing body down.
“Okay.” I smile.
“I’ll pick you up at ten?”
I look at my watch. “That’s only six hours away.”
His eyes dance with mischief. “I know. It seems stupid to go all the way home. I can just stay here until then.”
I giggle. “Nice try. Go home, Ricki.”
He chuckles, and with one last lingering kiss, he opens the front door of my hotel. I walk in, trying to act cool and hide the over the top smile on my face.
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.
