Page 3 of The Sexy Billionaire

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PAIGE

It's been a couple of days since the funeral, and I’m still thinking about Giorgio Fiorenzo.I shouldn’t be.He doesn’t deserve my thoughts. I’m still mortified over my interaction with him and that’s the only reason why he’s still on my mind. The first time seeing him in all those years, and I crumble into his arms. I can’t believe I cried on him like I did. He must think I’m an idiot.It was nice of him to come and pay his respects, though.It was. My great-aunt loved Giorgio, she thought he was a good boy.He wasn’t.He and his younger brother spent every summer working at his family’s vineyard, which backed onto Lucia’s. They were one of the reasons I was always excited to come back to Italy. Giorgio was best friends with my brother, as was his younger brother, and the three of them would hang out together all summer long.

I wonder what he’s been up to all these years.He looks good.Guess over the years, I’ve blocked all thoughts of him from my mind until now. Is he married? Does he have kids? Is he working for the family?Does it matter?Why do you need to know?You’re happily married.I’m curious, that’s all. Why am I arguing with myself? I’ve lost it.If you want to look, look, if not,leave him in the past where he belongs.This is all true, but he did make an effort to come to Lucia’s funeral, and that means a lotbecause Michael didn’t.

Grabbing my phone, I type his name in to search on the socials.

Shit.

He pops up as verified. He’s engaged.Of course he is, look at the man. I continue to scroll. And he’s engaged to Giada Rossi, the Italian actress who is sexy, gorgeous, and rich.

They look happy together, photos of them on yachts looking carefree, photos of them walking the red carpets, they look gorgeous together. Giada looks like she belongs in his world.You never did.I know. I’m not aristocratic like him. I’m just a girl from upstate New York, living in the city, trying to make it big in the culinary world, who owns a French restaurant and is in debt up to her eyeballs.

“No, no, no,” I scream as my fat fingers accidentally hitfollowon his account. He’s going to know I’ve been thinking about him because I haven’t in fifteen years. I’ve been fine not knowing what he’s been doing. He’s been living his glamorous life here in Italy and I’ve been living my perfectly fine life in New York. Then my phone vibrates with a notification,Giorgio Fiorenzo Official is now following you. “Fuck,” I curse at the screen.

“You ready?” Smith calls into my bedroom.

I’m so wrapped up in my phone that I scream and drop it on the floor. “You scared the hell out of me!”

My brother’s eyes narrow on me, and I can see he is using his detective face, the one he gives people he’s arrested.I’m not a criminal, don’t look at me like that.I just did something stupid.

“You okay?” he asks tentatively.

“Not really. I accidentally followed someone I wasn’t supposed to, and they saw and followed me back, and now I can’t unfollow them because it will look weird,” I blurt out.

My brother stares at me, possibly surprised over my honest admission. “Wait a week, and then unfollow them,” he suggests.

Right. Of course. I could do that.

“Can’t you like, go in and do something?”

Smith frowns at me. “Like what? Arrest them for following you?”

“You could do that? That would be helpful. But he doesn’t live in the States, so I don’t think that would work.”

“He?” he asks, raising a brow at me.

Dammit, me and my big mouth. Note to self, don’t ever get arrested, you will spill the beans instantly. “I ran into Giorgio Fiorenzo at the funeral.”

“Wow, that’s a blast from the past. It has been years since I’ve seen him. Damn, I missed him. I would have loved to catch up,” Smith says.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time,” I mumble.

“Why were you looking him up?” he asks.

“Curious, I guess. We had some great summers together.”

“We did and so many girls.” He chuckles.

Rolling my eyes at him, of course, that’s what he remembers.

“He kind of vanished after high school. But to be fair, so did I. Guess we all grew up. It was nice of him to show up to the funeral, though.”

“Yeah, it was,” I agree.

“What’s he up to then?” Smith asks.

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