Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
“And you think you want this woman?”
“I know I do.”
She sits back in disgust. “You can’t marry her.”
“I’ll do whatever I fucking like.”
“A Ferrara cannot marry a foreigner.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You will have to take her as your comare.”
A comare means a mistress in Italian. “No, when I marry, I’m only having my wife, just like my father did.”
She throws her head back in disgust. “Oh, please, your father had a goomah for thirty years. Don’t pretend you don’t know her,” she scoffs.
“He did not.”
“He did, Enrico. I know her very well.”
“You lie. My father adored my mother.”
“And he loved his comare I went to the funeral she held for him. It was beautiful.”
“What?”
Her face falls. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”
I stare at her as I begin to hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I thought you knew—everyone knew. Even your mother.”
I sip my scotch with a shaky hand.
“She lives in Lake Como with their son.”
What?
“They had a son?” I whisper.
“Yes, they had a boy. He was only seventeen when your father passed.”
I stare at her as I begin to feel my pulse raging throughout my body.
“He was with her long before he met your mother, but he wasn’t allowed to marry her. She was the love of his life. He was loyal to her to the very end.”
I clench my jaw… in distain. My mother was the love of his life.
“Liar,” I sneer.
“Why do you think your father had a house in Lake Como that he took you and your brothers to every weekend, Rico?”
I stare at her as a missing piece of the puzzle falls into place.
“Why do you think your mother hated the place? Why does your mother prefer to be in Rome?”
“My mother married my father for love.”
“Your mother married your father because of his name. She knew he loved another. She always came second to Angelina. She was happy with the arrangement and his money.”
I drain my scotch and slam my glass down onto the table. I stand in a rush, and without another word, I storm out of the restaurant and around the corner into an alleyway. I’m hot, clammy, and disorientated. I push my hands onto my knees. With the realization that my whole life is a lie, I throw up.
Olivia
I stand at the 3D printer and fold my arms in a huff.
It’s Monday afternoon. I hate this machine. Why does it print so slow? Where is the normal photocopier? Why is it all so technical?
“How was your weekend?” Martin from accounts asks me.
“Great. How was yours?” I smile.
Great doesn’t come close to describing my weekend. I had the most fabulous weekend in history, and I am on a Ferrara high. I’m so high, I can’t even see the ground.
Rico and I turned the corner in a big way and I just can’t wait to see him tonight. He won’t be back until late, but that’s okay. This will be my new normal.
My design finally prints, and I make my way back to my seat. My phone on my desk rings.
“Olivia, this is Torino from reception downstairs.”
“Hi.” I smile. “How can I help you?”
“You have someone to see you down here.”
“Who is it?”
“Um.” She pauses. “Yes, just go into the conference room on level two—take the elevator,” she says to whoever is waiting. “Olivia will meet you up there.”
I frown as I wait on.
“It’s the police,” she whispers.
“What? And they’re here to see me?”
“Yes, two of them. They’re detectives. They’re in the conference room waiting for you now.”
“Shit, okay. Thanks.”
I make my way to the conference room, and I open the door. Two men are sitting at the table, and they stand as I walk in.
“Hello, Olivia. We’re Pedro and Michael. We’re detectives, and we’d like to ask you a few questions, please.”
They’re older and classically cop-like. One is short and bald, while the other looks like a stripper who hired a suit.
“Okay.” I smile as I shake their hands. I gesture to the table and chairs. “Please, take a seat.”
We all sit down.
I cross my legs in front of me as I wait for them to tell my why they’re here. “I’m sorry, you have me at a loss. How can I help you?”
“We are investigating a missing person.”
“Okay…”
“Franco Macheski.”
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” I ask, confused.
“You probably should,” Pedro says sarcastically. “You went on a date with him three weeks ago.”
Oh shit. Mr. Tinder. “Sorry. Mental block there for a moment.” I feel like a total whorebag.
“He hasn’t been seen since,” he tells me.
I stare at them. “What?”
“You were the last person to see Franco alive. Tell us what happened on the night you went out together. We want to know everything.”
20
Olivia
I screw up my face. “What do you mean he hasn’t been seen since? I don’t understand.”