Page 26 of The Italian Obsession

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The candlelight flickers across our faces, and I smile at the man sitting opposite me. Ironically, we are in an Italian restaurant, having dinner. We spent the early evening in bed. Determined to make every second of our weekend count, he dragged me out to dinner. I was happy being naked in bed. Toast would have been fine for dinner if it were up to me.

“Tell me again what you do for work? I forget, I was blinded by your beauty the other night,” he says. “I know you said design, but for what?”

I smile. “I design pajamas,” I remind him.

“You have your own shop?”

“No. I design for Kmart Australia.”

“Kmart?”

“It’s an Australian department store.”

“Oh.” He raises his brows. “How did you train for this job?”

“I went to design school. I never imagined that this is the job I would end up with.”

“Why not?”

“I always wanted to design for a fashion label like Gucci, Hermès, or Chanel.”

He swirls his wine around in his glass. “Why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” I exhale heavily. “I have tried, but I know jobs are ridiculously hard to get with that kind of label. I mean, it’s not that I don’t love my job, because I do. It’s just not what I imagined. You know?”

He nods. “I never thought I would end up being a policeman.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “Isn’t that the kind of job kids want to do all their lives?”

He chuckles. “I guess.”

“Your bruschetta,” the server says as he puts our entrées onto the table in front of us.

“Grazie.”

Rico dishes out my serve and then his. He likes to be in control. Not that I mind at all. It’s nice having him fuss over me. “Why did you become a policeman, then?” I ask. “It’s not something that you fall into by accident.”

“My father wanted me to do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he wanted me to get some life experience. He got me an interview through one of his friends. I didn’t have my heart set on anything else, so I humored him and thought that I could always leave later if I didn’t like it.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I only ever wanted to be happy. A job won’t do that for me.”

What a wonderful thing to aspire for. I lean onto my hand and smile goofily across the table at him.

“What?” He smirks.

“You know, for a fuck boy, you really are quite endearing.” He laughs in surprise. “A fuck boy?” He puts his hand on his stomach and really laughs, and I find myself laughing too. Other people in the restaurant look over at our table.

“What?” I ask.

“I have never been called that before. Even when I was a boy, I was never called that.” His eyes dance with delight. “You really are quite the surprise package, Olivia.”