Page 25 of Beautiful Desire

Opening my text messages, I click on the thread for Enrico and type out another message.

Me

Just landed. Any news?

The driver climbs in, starting the ignition and following the fleet of Rolls Royces.

Really, Fabi? You couldn’t have picked a less noticeable car?

I feel hot and clammy as my body breaks out in a cold sweat. Needing answers, I shoot off another text to Enrico.

Me

En route.

Staring at the screen, I see those three little dots appear, letting me know he’s typing.

Enrico

Nothing. My guys are looking into it. Keep your eyes peeled.

Me

Will do. Let me know the second you hear something.

Enrico

Si.

Exiting out of the chat, I begin turning my phone over between my hands, trying to keep my mind busy. Lost in thought, I feel her delicate hand land on my knee. The warmth from her simple touch shoots through my entire body, setting it on fire. Turning my head to look at her, I see a blush rise on her cheeks, and she quickly pulls her hand away, taking the warmth with her.

“Sorry. You were bouncing your knee again. You just spent the last four hours on the plane doing that, and I can’t take it anymore.”

Not even realizing I was doing it, I say a curt “sorry” before turning away from her.

The combination of her sweet floral scent and proximity, coupled with being back in this country, is messing with my head, setting me on edge. Before I can get too lost in my thoughts again, I hear Elle’s sweet voice as she talks to the driver.

“Excuse me, sir? Do you know how much longer? I had a bit too much to drink on the jet, and I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Mi dispiace, signorina. Non parlo inglese,” Carlo replies.I’m sorry, miss. I don’t speak English.

“Um. What did you say?”

Not wanting this to go on for the rest of the journey, I say, “He doesn’t speak English.”

I’m met with a shocked look on Elle’s face; she opens and closes her mouth several times before finally responding.

“You speak Italian?”

“A little bit,” is all I say before asking how much longer.

“Più o meno una ventina di minuti in più,” he replies.About twenty more minutes, give or take.

“Another twenty minutes and we should be there. Can you hold it, or do you need us to stop?” I ask a still-stunned Elle.

“Hold what?” she says, looking utterly confused.

“You said you had to go to the bathroom before. Can you hold it until we get there, or do we need to stop?”

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