Page 237 of The Italian Obsession

“I’ll be down in ten.”

“See you soon.”

“Goodbye.”

________

Fifteen minutes later, I bounce out of the elevator and see the procession of cars waiting for me. Not only is Enrico here, but there are an extra three cars today. Every day it seems like more and more guards are added to the procession. I give the cars behind a wave, and I make my way to the front car. Enrico gets out and opens the door for me.

“Olivia,” he says as I approach him.

“Mr. Ferrara.” I smirk as I get into the car. He shuts the door and makes his way around to the driver’s seat. He gets in and starts the car, leaving me to smile over at him.

I don’t even try to kiss him in public anymore. I know better. He keeps that part of himself locked up safely for when we’re in private. At first it used to bother me that we couldn’t be affectionate around other people, but now I get it. He has twenty sets of eyes on him at all times. He’s much more comfortable with his cold persona. It’s easier this way. He keeps his feelings intensely private, and I like that I get a part of him that nobody else does.

The car pulls out of the parking lot, and I reach over to put my hand on his thigh. He takes it in his hand.

“How was your day?” I smile.

“Fine.” He keeps his eyes on the road.

“You know, I had the best day.”

“Why?”

“Well, I had a talk with your mother this morning.”

“About what?”

“How I’m not Italian and how I’m not her choice for you.”

“She said that?” he barks.

“Not in a mean way,” I add. “In a being honest way.” I pick up his hand and kiss it to try and calm him. “And it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it, you know? I mean, at least she was honest, and she wasn’t being nasty.” I frown as I think back to what she said. “She talked to me, at least. Last time I met her, she didn’t address me once.”

He clenches his jaw and glares through the windshield. “What’s that look for?” I ask.

“She had better want to fucking talk to you,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not saying we’re besties or anything.” I shrug. “But it’s a starting point.”

His eyes rise to the rearview mirror.

“I start cooking lessons with your grandmother on Sunday.”

“Olivia, my grandmother will eat you alive. This woman makes grown men cry. Stay away from my grandmother.”

“That’s okay. I can hack it.”

He frowns and mouths the words hack it as he tries to process its meaning. “What is hack it?”

“It means I can take it. I’m willing to put up with it until she comes around to liking me.”

He rolls his eyes.

I reach over and run my fingers through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“We are moving back to Lake Como tonight. Your things are already there.”