Roma. What a beautiful place.
I’m reminded why it’s so special to me.
It’s Friday night, and Rici has bought me here for the weekend. We’ve just had dinner at the restaurant where we met. It feels so long ago now. So much has happened, and I’ve never felt closer to anyone in my life. Something about our fight on Wednesday cemented something. The energy has shifted between us. Him telling me that he couldn’t orgasm with another woman has calmed my insecurities. I have completely given myself over to him.
I’ve been in Italy for three months now, and my time with him has been the happiest of my life.
And I was deadly serious; I don’t want to live in a world without Rici Ferrara. He promised me that everything is all right and that he was just taking precautions.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he leads me through the crowds of people by the hand.
We come to an opening, and I see The Pantheon come into view. Its lit up with an aura around it.
“Oh, it’s so magical,” I whisper.
“Our special place.” He smiles softly and takes me into his arms.
“Thank you.” I kiss his lips. “This is the perfect date.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the secret side door. Once there, he calls someone. The man in the suit comes and opens the door. “Enrico, my child. Welcome. We have been waiting.”
We walk through and the man leaves us alone. I look around and my heart stops.
There is a small round table with candles, a bottle of champagne, and two crystal glasses on it. It’s sitting right near the spot where we spoke our truths all that time ago.
“Rici,” I whisper. “You are perfect.” We kiss softly, our lips linger over each other’s.
“Olivia, non posso vivere senza di te. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Vuoi sposarmi, amore mio?” He goes straight into the translation. “Olivia,” he whispers. “I cannot live without you. I love you with all of my heart. Will you marry me, my love?”
He drops to his knee and pulls a ring from his pocket.
My hands fly to mouth in shock. “Rici,” I whisper.
He slides the ring on my finger and then presses my hand to his face. “Answer me, my love.”
I smile through tears. “Si.” I drop to my knee beside him and kiss him softly. “A million times, si.”
27
Olivia
Enrico’s eyes search mine making my heart constrict at the overwhelming love passing between us.
It’s emotion overload, and my own eyes well with tears.
Marriage.
“Are you sure?” I whisper up at him. “We’ve only just found each other. It’s so soon.”
“Bella, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” His lips brush mine. “Why should we wait? I know what I want.”
This is insane, but somehow I know it’s right, and I smile softly.
Marriage.
“We have to get up.” I wince.
He pulls me up and takes me into his arms to kiss me once more. It’s not hurried or sexual. This is a kiss from the heart, and a promise of a life together.
Our life.
“Ti amo,” I whisper up at him.
“I love you, too.” He takes my face in his hands, and I smile against his lips, unable to believe what’s transpired here tonight.
We’ve developed this quirky habit of declaring our love for each other in our opposing languages. I always say it in Italian. He says it in English.
However it comes out, it’s perfect every time, and it means so much.
“Do you like your ring?” Enrico asks.
I hold my hand out and look down at it. Is this really happening? The ring isn’t fancy and showy. It’s a gold band with a single solitaire diamond-a big diamond, but simple all the same.
“It’s perfect.”
It feels heavy on my finger and is going to take some time getting used to. I smile as I stare at it.
“I love it and I love you.” He breaks out into a big, beautiful smile. “Finally, a present you like.”
God. What must it be like to be with me? “It’s the only present that matters.”
I throw my arms around his neck, and he squeezes me so tight as he lifts me up. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
The bar is empty but our hearts are full.
Fairy lights hang over us in the garden’s courtyard. It’s drawing to the end of our perfect night.
I smile up at my handsome dance partner. He was determined to recreate our first date. We’ve been to the exact same bars and danced on the same dancefloors.
The songs are different now, though-not that I remember the originals, to be honest. My brain was high on Enrico Ferrara, and still is.
Although it’s a different kind of high now. The kind that lasts a lifetime.
Out of all the woman in the world, he picked me to fall in love with, and I’m so incredibly grateful that things have worked out the way that they have between us.
He’s sweet, sexy, dominant, caring, and he listens to every damn word that I say.
I smile as I listen to the lyrics of “Lover” by Taylor Swift, and we sway side to side.
“This song is better than the last song you liked,” he tells me.
“What song?” I frown.
“The…” He frowns as he tries to remember the name of it. “The used to being loved song.”
“Huh?” I try to think back.
“Something about used to being someone you loved.”
“Oh.” I smile. “‘Someone You Love’ by Lewis Capaldi.”
“The sad song about a girl leaving her man.”
“I remember. Although I think it’s more about death.”
His face falls. “Well, I hope you never get to play it.”
I giggle and rise up on my toes to kiss him. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For being my lover… and becoming my best friend.”
He stops moving. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“What?” I frown. “Why?”
“Anybody can fall in love.” His eyes search mine. “But it takes a lot to be someone’s best friend.”
We begin to sway to the beat again, which, by the way, has now gone down in the history books as my favorite song ever. “Take me home, lover.”
“Maybe we should just get married tonight?”
“Find somewhere and we will.”
He chuckles, steps back, and tugs on my hand. “Don’t tempt me. Home time.”
* * *
He lifts my dress over my head, tosses it aside, and his lips dust my neck. We are back at the apartment in Roma-the one where we spent our first weekend together in.
His wife. Mrs Ferrara.
Suddenly, I’m desperate. Desperate to have him naked. I tear his shirt over his shoulders and throw it to the side. He gives me a slow, sexy smile and holds his hands out wide. “I’m all yours, my love.”
“Literally.” I undo his jeans and slide them down his legs to reveal his perfectly thick cock that’s hanging heavily between his legs. Thick veins run down the length of it.
He is one beautiful man.
Mine.