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I wrap my dressing gown around me. Oh, jeez, I’m not really dressed for this.
“I’m here!” I call from my place at the front door.
The men each turn toward me, and Lorenzo’s face falls. “Go inside, Olivia. We’ll take care of him.”
“Olivia!” Enrico bellows again, oblivious that I’m standing right here.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“He’s had a bad day,” Lorenzo sighs. “Too much to drink on an empty stomach.”
“Olivia!” Enrico bellows again. His deep voice is angry—almost frightening.
“I’m here.” I rush to him, and his face immediately softens. He wraps his arm around me. “Il mio amore.” He buries his head in my neck. He holds me tight, and the men all look on as if unsure what to do.
“I love you,” he slurs with a drunken smile.
“Shh Rici,” I whisper.
Oh, jeez. This isn’t quiet the romantic first I love you that I had in mind.
“I love this woman,” he tells all the men. “But not you,” he cries, as if he’s suddenly outraged at something. He breaks free from my grip. “You can all go to Hell. Traitors!” he sneers in disgust. “How many lies have you told me today?” He leans forward and pushes one of the men hard in the chest.
“Jesus Christ,” Maso groans as he drags his hand down his face in disgust.
I grab Enrico’s hands in mine. “What’s happened?” I ask.
“I hate these bastards,” he slurs. “Go!” He throws his hand up in disgust. “Fucking liars. Get out of my house!”
“Come inside,” I whisper softly, I put his arm around my shoulder and I begin to lead him into the house. The men follow behind us. Enrico staggers and sways as I try to keep him upright. He trips up the step and stumbles. The men all jump in to catch him and help me lead him inside to the couch, where he falls spectacularly onto his back.
He laughs up at me and grabs his dick. “I got something for you, bella.”
I try to hold a straight face. He couldn’t have sex right now if his life depended on it. The men shake their heads in disgust. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so drunk.
He reaches up, grabs my hand, and pulls me down on top of him.
“Stay here, my love,” he slurs.
“I’m here,” I say, knowing he’s restless and agitated.
The men begin to quietly converse in Italian as they walk into the kitchen so that we can’t hear them.
“Shh.” I rub Rico’s face as I try to calm him. “I’m here, baby,” I whisper, watching as his heavy eyes close. I push his hair back from his forehead and see him fall into a deep sleep.
God, he smells like a brewery. It’s as if someone has poured straight sambuca all over his clothes. After a while, once I know he’s asleep, I get up, take his shoes off, and drape a blanket over him.
Lorenzo and Maso walk back into the room. “What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Maso replies coldly. “He’s a violent drunk. I’ll stay and care for him. You go upstairs to bed. You can’t be alone with him right now.”
I frown. “He would never hurt me.”
Maso rolls his eyes.
“I will care for him,” I tell him.
“I said go to bed!” Maso snaps angrily. “I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been around a lot longer than you.”
