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I walk out and weave through the tables. He smiles and waves as he sees me. He seems impressed when he stands. “Olly.”
“Hi,” I push out. “You must be Franco?”
“Lovely to meet you.” He kisses my cheek, and I fall nervously into my seat. The waiter arrives. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Please.” Jeez, I need fucking tequila to get me through this. I pick up the drinks menu and glance up, and then I stop dead still. I feel the blood drain from my face.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Chiseled jaw, dark eyes, and curly hair? I would know that face anywhere.
Enrico Ferrara is sitting at a table in the back.
10
Olivia
I quickly put the menu up in front of my face so I can hide behind it.
Shit, are you kidding me?
“How are you?” Franco smiles.
I glance back over to see Enrico deep in conversation with a group of men. He laughs out loud and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Great,” I lie. This is the worst day of my entire freaking life. What the freaking hell is Rico doing in Milan? I frown and pretend to read the menu in great detail, trying to buy some time. “Wow, you have such a great selection of drinks,” I mutter to the waiter as I break into a cold sweat.
Franco and the waiter wait for my order. Oh man, I can’t hold the menu up any longer. This is getting awkward. “I’ll have a shaken margarita, please.” I hand the menu over. I should have been polite and shared a bottle of wine with my date, but too bad. The ante just got upped.
It’s every man for himself now.
The waiter leaves us alone, and Franco looks over at me. “It’s so good to finally see your face, Olly.”
I fake a smile. “Yours, too.” I look over his shoulder to the level above. Enrico is sitting in the corner with a group of men. He says something, and they all burst out laughing. What was so funny? His hair is a little longer than when I was with him. His face is still…
“How are you liking Italy?” Franco breaks me from my thoughts.
I drag my eyes back to my date. “Great, thanks.”
I don’t want Enrico to see me. What am I supposed to do? Should I leave? What would I say?
“I’ve been looking forward to our date all week.” Franco smiles.
The waiter arrives with our drinks. “Here you go.”
I pick the glass up and immediately take a big gulp. “Can you bring me another, please?” I ask. Franco and the waiter exchange puzzled looks.
“So thirsty,” I mutter into my glass. “Parched, actually.”
“Tell me all about yourself,” Franco asks sexily. His eyes focus in on me as he waits for me to speak.
I stare at him. “You want to know about me?” What do I say? I don’t fuck on first dates because the one time I did, the guy was a bastard and, oh, guess what? He’s right over there, leaving me to look for the closest escape route?
“Well…” Enrico laughs out loud. I stop still. He has the most incredible laugh.
I snap my eyes back to Franco, shit what was I saying? I pause as I try to get my bearings. Damn, Enrico has me completely frazzled. “Well, as you know, I’m Australian and I’ve recently moved to Milan for a job.” I sip my drink. I don’t want to tell him too much in case he’s a serial killer or something. “I’m having a great time. Why don’t you tell me about you instead?”
“Okay, I’m in banking…” He begins to talk but I completely zone out as my eyes roam up to the man at the table above us.
