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I turn and slowly walk toward the door.
“Olivia,” she calls.
I turn back to her.
“Food is the Italian language of love. You will be cooking well for Enrico. My son deserves the best.”
I frown. What’s that supposed to mean?
“Your first cooking lesson is on Sunday with Enrico’s grandmother.”
Hope blooms in my chest, and I smile softly.
“She does not mince her words. Prepare yourself.” She lifts her chin defiantly, her eyes are hard, but I see a glimmer of softness behind them. Something tells me Grandma is going to be a hard cookie to crack, though.
“Thank you, I’ll look forward to it.” I turn and walk out of the kitchen feeling very proud of myself. I feel like jumping and punching the air.
I think I actually did okay.
* * *
It’s 4:45 p.m. when my phone rings and I see Rici’s name on the screen.
“Well, hello there,” I answer playfully.
“Hello, Olivia.” His commanding voice echoes down the line.
“I smile broadly, I missed him last night and I can’t wait to see him. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Ferrara?” He never calls me this close to home time.
“I’m picking you up today. Catch the lift straight down to the basement parking lot. I’m parked just outside the elevator.”
“How come?” I frown.
“Just do it.”
“All right.” I sigh. “Still in your bad mood, I see” “Olivia,” he warns. “Do not give me your attitude today. You are right, I am not in the mood.”
I smile. I love stirring him up. I think back to not so long ago when that tone in his voice would have had me running scared. How times have changed.
“I’ll be down in ten.”
“See you soon.”
“Goodbye.”
Fifteen minutes later, I bounce out of the elevator and see the procession of cars waiting for me. Not only is Enrico here, but there are an extra three cars today. Every day it seems like more and more guards are added to the procession. I give the cars behind a wave, and I make my way to the front car. Enrico gets out and opens the door for me.
“Olivia,” he says as I approach him.
“Mr. Ferrara.” I smirk as I get into the car. He shuts the door and makes his way around to the driver’s seat. He gets in and starts the car, leaving me to smile over at him.
I don’t even try to kiss him in public anymore. I know better. He keeps that part of himself locked up safely for when we’re in private. At first it used to bother me that we couldn’t be affectionate around other people, but now I get it. He has twenty sets of eyes on him at all times. He’s much more comfortable with his cold persona. It’s easier this way. He keeps his feelings insanely private, and I like that I get a part of him that nobody else does.
The car pulls out of the parking lot, and I reach over to put my hand on his thigh. He takes it in his hand.
“How was your day?” I smile.
“Fine.” He keeps his eyes on the road.
