Font Size:  

Giovanni

PLAYLIST: ? SWEET LIFE - FRANK OCEAN ?

Never haveI thought any memories in Portofino could be more pleasant than those from my childhood. But my time with Falynn proves that it’s possible.

The weather shifts from the sunlit days we’ve come to know to days filled with rain-soaked streets and storm clouds. We make the most of it. On the first day, we stay cooped up at my villa. We make love, lounge around like lazy cats, and indulge in my staff’s wonderful cooking. Another day I take Falynn to one of Portofino’s most precious gems—the Museo del Parco is an open air museum displaying all kinds of contemporary art. It’s a touristy outing, but Falynn loves it. We walk the exhibits hand in hand and admire the different pieces on display.

If my enemies could see me now. Cold, callous Mafia King Giovanni Sorrentino strolling with his woman, admiring art sculptures. Thankfully, I’m thousands of miles away from any prying eyes.

On the third rainy day, Falynn suggests movies. Instead of staying in, I rent out an old local theater that plays classic black and white films throughout the day. The language is Italian. Though Falynn doesn’t understand, she enjoys following the storyline through subtitles.

La Canzone Dell’amoreplays on the screen, a1930 Italian romance film.

Falynn rests her head on my shoulder and sighs. “This is so romantic.”

My lips brush her brow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Italian cinema is so…vivid. There’s a dreamy element, don’t you think?”

My gaze studies the giant screen before us. The couple rushes toward each other as the musical score swells.

“Very,” I agree. “This was made ninety years ago.”

“I can just imagine this theater being crowded with people coming to see it.”

It’s true, seated in the shadows of the old theater, just the two of us, feels like we’re among ghosts of the past.

Fozzi and C.J. escort us to our car when the film finishes. Falynn grips my arm and pulls me in the opposite direction.

“We should walk back ourselves.”

I glance up at the dreary sky. “In the drizzle?”

“We have umbrellas. Just a small walk.”

I find it impossible to tell her no. Her sweet brown eyes are too warm. The wrinkle in her round nose is too cute as she scrunches her face. It’s moments like these where I’m more than a man who saw a beautiful woman on a stage one night and decided she’d have to be mine. Moments like these are small and sentimental but possess the strength to chase away the cold and dark in my heart.

Falynn has done that in our time together. Warmth floods my chest. Like any other man in love, my heart drums as I stare at the woman who means more than words can say.

I still haven’t made it known where our future’s headed. But the time to pop the question feels soon. Possibly on this holiday.

Fozzi and C.J. trail us in the car as Falynn and I go for a stroll down rainy, cobblestone streets. I hold the umbrella for us as she holds me, clutching my arm and pointing out different shops as we go by.

I never thought this was possible for me. For me to experience a love like this.

All my life, I’ve seen dysfunction and chaos. The best I imagined was a marriage like my parents—cold and withdrawn. Not at any fault of Mama; she did her best with what Papa allowed. But even with her warmth, their relationship was transactional. Papa paid for her like he paid for everything in his life.

She loved him, or at least she said she did. But that didn’t make her any less of a caged bird. Once you’re in this life, you’re in. There’s no out. Papa certainly wasn’t going to let it happen. Only in death was she free.

What Falynn and I have feels different. Though it may have started transactionally, her body and company for my money, it’s no longer about that. Falynn is at my side because she wants to be. She’s in my life because I’ve come to need her here, in my arms every night.

It’s love…

“I don’t care if we don’t ever go back,” she murmurs. We’ve stopped along a hillside street offering breathtaking views of the sea. The water reflects the stormy sky, a deeper blue than we’re used to but still as magnificent. “You were right to bring us here.”

Should I ask her now? How can I be one of the most powerful men in the world, yet my palms go clammy at the thought of asking four simple words?

A man like me doesn’t take rejection well. I’d respect her decision, but it wouldn’t be easy. I’d probably take my anger out on whatevercazzowas stupid enough to next cross my path.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like