The Italian Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Angst, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
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Without another word, he rushes from the room, and the door slams hard shut behind him. I hear the lock click as he locks me in.

What the hell was that?

I can’t hold it anymore. I can’t act brave for one minute longer. I screw up my face and cry.

Seven hours later

I lie on the cold, hard bed of the jail cell.

It’s dark and eerie in here, and I’m scared.

I keep thinking back to all the international drug trafficking cases over the years and how I haven’t really paid much attention to them or followed up on what the outcome has been. Drug traffickers in other countries get forgotten. Nobody even questions if they are guilty. It’s just assumed that they are.

It’s ironic really. I’m one of the people who forgot them. Will they forget me?

The door opens and the light flicks on. A policeman escorts a man in a suit into the room.

“Hello.” He smiles. He’s older, handsome, and from the look of his suit, loaded.

I scramble to my feet and pull my shirt down. I feel so exposed and vulnerable in here.

“My name is Mario Botecci. I am a solicitor, and I represent Ferrara Industries.”

He shakes my hand.

“Hi.” I force a smile as I try not to get my hopes up.

“I have secured your release.”

My eyes flick between him and the officer. “Really?”

“Yes, but there are conditions. I will be escorting you to the airport, and you will leave Italy immediately.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I-I missed my flight,” I stammer.

“You’ll be flying on the Ferrara jet. I will be accompanying you back to Australia.”

“That’s not necessary.” I don’t want to go on Enrico’s father’s fucking plane. That’s the last place I want to be. “I’ll book a commercial flight. I don’t want to put anyone out.”

Mario’s eyes hold mine. “That is the condition of your release. It’s unnegotiable.”

I stare at him as the lump in my throat begins to close over. Enrico would know this, and he has chosen to not be the one who accompanies me home.

I nod, unable to push any coherent words past my lips.

The policeman gestures toward the door. “This way. We have some paperwork for you to sign, and then you can go.”

Relief begins to flood through me, and I force a smile despite my tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

8

Enrico

December, 18 Months Later.

She arches her back, her body straddled over mine as she rides my cock. My hands hold her hips, guiding her to where I want her.

In, out, deep… so deep.

My legs are spread, and our bodies are covered in perspiration as we writhe together. Her long, dark hair falls down her back as she watches me with her big brown eyes in the diluted light.

Sex.

My necessary evil.

At least three times a week I have it. Sometimes with one girl, or two from one of my brothels. Other times, I go traditional and meet a woman. Tonight, it’s with one of my general managers, Sophia. She’s beautiful—everything a man could need. We fuck often but she leaves me still hungry and unsatisfied.

They all do.

We’ve been at it for an hour and I’m nowhere near close to coming.

I hate this. I hate that I have this need to fuck, yet can’t come when it’s happening. It’s the worst kind of torture.

Sophia moans, half in pain, I know I have to let her go. I’ll have to finish myself off.

Fuck this.

I close my eyes and go to my kink—the only thing that can get the job done.

Olivia.

I imagine it’s her on top, riding me. I envision her blonde hair and those big blue eyes. I feel myself relax as I imagine her looking down at me.

Soft and lush.

“Clench,” I command.

She tightens and I smile. There she is. My tight girl Olivia.

I lose control, and in one motion, I flip her onto her back and lift her legs over my shoulders. I let her have it.

Deep, hard pumps.

I give it both barrels. The bed is smashing against the wall as I take what I need from her body—what I’ve been trying to achieve for an hour.

I hiss as I tip my head back and come in a rush. My cock jerks so hard that it’s almost painful.

I open my eyes and look straight down into brown ones. My heart drops.

It isn’t her.

I pull out and fall onto my back beside Sophia, gasping for breath.

She rolls herself so she’s half on my body, and she kisses me. I scrunch my face up and pull my lips away. I don’t want to kiss.

“Wow.” She smiles as she struggles for air. “You’re incredible.”

I close my eyes, my heart still racing. Disappointment floods me about the only way I can get over the line…. every single time.

This fascination with Olivia needs to fucking stop.

February, 2 months later.

I watch as a boat slowly pulls into port and the passengers get off. The sea breeze whips through my hair.


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