Page 148

I go to hit the shutter button.

“No,” he says. “Leave them down until daylight. Never put the shutters up in darkness if I’m not here.”

I stare at him as a small thread of fear runs through me. “What’s this about, Rico?” I ask. “You’re beginning to frighten me.”

“Precaution, that’s all. I have to go, bella.” He kisses me quickly. “See you tonight.”

I sigh. “Have fun… flying around, I guess.”

He walks out and I follow him. I drop to sit on the top step of the grand staircase, and I watch him walk downstairs. He sets the alarm and closes the door behind him. I hear the lock click as he locks the dead bolt with his key.

I can’t even look out of the window to watch him leave. This feels so weird.

________

“Hi, Mom,” I answer the phone.

“Hello, love, how’s my favorite daughter today?”

I giggle. “I’m your only daughter.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling. “I’m good, battling a dreaded cold.”

“Oh, are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. What’s new?”

“Well.” I walk out of the bedroom and down the big grand staircase. “Things are going well with Enrico.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“I’ve been staying with him at his house in Lake Como.”

“Oh, isn’t that where the rich and famous live?”

I shrug, embarrassed and completely unsure how to warn her about him. “Yeah.” I try to sound casual. “His parents come from money. Lots of family businesses and things. He does all right for himself too.” I wince—does all right for himself is the understatement of the year.

“Is he being nice?”

“Yes, Mom.” I roll my eyes.

“I’ve heard these Italian men can be very possessive when they want to be.”

I smirk. She hit the nail on the head. “He’s lovely, Mom. I really like him.” I smile broadly. “In fact, I think I might be in love with him.”

“Oh, Olivia, let’s just see how it goes,” she sighs as she senses heartbreak. “Don’t go giving your heart to anyone just yet. It’s only early days.”

“I know.” I scrunch my eyes shut—it’s too late. He has my entire heart in his suit pocket at his disposal.

“How’s work going?” I ask. Last time I spoke to her she was hating on her boss. “Is Gerrard still being a micro manager?”

“Oh, god, yes, he’s being an ego maniac.”

Mum has worked for the same man for thirty years as his personal assistant; he’s in his eighties now and becoming senile. “Maybe he’ll retire soon?” I smile.

“I wish, I’ve been hanging on for five years in hope.”

“You can just find another job, you know!” I remind her.