Page 75 of The Italian Obsession

“Are you serious?” I frown.

“Very.”

I exhale and turn toward the camera, giving it my best fuck you look. Don’t mess with me, asshole. I’ll smash your fucking camera over your head in a minute. If he doesn’t let me in, I’m going to go feral and explode.

“Yes, sir.” She hangs up and comes back to me, unimpressed. “Junco will escort you up to Mr. Ferrara’s office now.”

“I can go by myself.”

“Nobody enters the building unescorted.” She glares at me. “You have an eight-minute appointment.”

I glare right back. “I’ll only need two.”

The security guard approaches us. “This way.” He leads me over to the elevator, and I get in behind him. He stays solemn and stares straight ahead. With every floor we go up, I feel more incensed.

He leaves me in a prison. He calls me a Tinder. He didn’t want me.

Well, fuck him.

The elevator doors open, and I step out like I’m the Devil himself.

Mr. Ferrara messed with the wrong girl.

We arrive into a reception area, and it’s not at all what I expected. It’s made from black marble, modern, and very futuristic with dark timber finishes. The ceiling has a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the roof. There’s another guard on the floor, as well as two receptionists sitting at a long, black desk.

Why does he have so much security?

Mafiosi. Fuck.

“Just take a seat. Mr. Ferrara will be out shortly.” A receptionist gestures to a large, leather sofa.

“Is that his office?” I ask, pointing to the oversized, double timber doors.

“Yes. He won’t be a moment.”

Without another thought, I turn and storm through the doors, forcing them open.

The bang echoes through the space, and I hear the receptionists gasp from behind me.

Oh, jeez, so dramatic. I should be on The Bold and the Beautiful or something.

“No, no, no.” Junco runs in behind me.

Rico looks up at me in surprise from behind a huge black desk. A sexy smirk crosses his lips as he sits back in his leather chair, holding a pen in his hand. “Miss Reynolds.”

Another man is sitting at his desk, and he watches me with beady eyes, his interest piqued.

My sanity snaps. “Don’t you Miss Reynolds me,” I growl.

Junco grabs my arm. “Fuori adesso.” Translation: Outside, now.

“So sorry, Mr. Ferrara.”

Enrico’s smirk breaks into a grin, and he holds his hand up. “Esci.” Translation: Get out. “Leave us.”

Junco looks between us. “Now,” Rico commands.

Junco bows his head and leaves the room.