Page 92 of The Italian


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Natalie narrows her eyes as she watches them over my shoulder.

“Is he still talking to her?” I ask as I sip my drink.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “She’s getting all touchy and putting her hand on his chest.”

“Stupid bitch,” I whisper.

“Yes, hands off, mole.” She frowns.

“What’s happening?”

“She grabbed his hand.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Oh no.”

“What’s happening?”

Natalie puts her hand on her chest and sighs in relief.

“What?”

“I thought they were going to kiss.”

“Are you kidding me?” I snap as I spin toward them. The redhead is wearing a white dress that’s super low cut. She has the best body I think I’ve ever seen—huge boobs and a tiny waist. She looks like a sex kitten on crack. “Fuck this,” I whisper. “I’m not standing here and watching him with her. I’m going inside to the bar. Do you want another drink?”

“Yes, please.” Her eyes are glued on them. “I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

“You do that. Push her in the pool if you need to.”

“Copy that.”

I drain my glass, put it on a table, and walk inside. I want to waste some time. I go to the bathroom and walk around the club looking at all the bars and lounge areas. This place really is amazing.

Don’t let him get to you, I remind myself. I eventually head to the bar and stand in line, which is huge. I’m going to be here for a while. I text Nat,

Line is huge

A text bounces back.

Oh my God.

He knows you’re here.

He watched you walk inside.

My mouth falls open.

What?: Are you sure?

A message comes in.

Positive.

Excitement runs through me. Oh, this is ridiculous.

MAYDAY.

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