Page 162 of The Italian Obsession

She sits up. “Can we talk about this?”

“No.”

“I want to know what I’m dealing with here.”

“It’s more than you can handle, Olivia.” I pull my boxers up in a rush. “Trust me.” I storm from the room and downstairs as my heart goes into panic mode.

She’s leaving.

I hit the shutters, and the sound of them rising echoes around me. Light begins to slowly flood the house. I flick on my coffee machine and close my eyes as I mentally prepare myself for her exit. My heart’s racing. I’m sucking in deep breathes to try and calm myself down.

Warm arms come around me from behind. “Rici,” she whispers, and she kisses my back.

I close my eyes. The thought of her knowing what I am is too much.

Disappointing her is my worst nightmare.

“Just go,” I sigh. “It will be less painful if we just get this over and done with.”

“Just talk to me.”

“And tell you what?” I cry.

“I’m not judging you,” she says calmly.

“Aren’t you, Olivia?” I spit, and turn to her. “‘Because it sure fucking feels like it.”

“You grew up in this life?” she asks.

“Yes… and no.”

Her eyes hold mine. “What does that mean?”

I exhale heavily. “I found out about everything when my father died.”

She frowns. “Up until then, you thought Ferrara was a reputable family business?”

“It is a reputable business,” I snap. “There are just some unsavory aspects of it, I’m going to clean it up… but it takes fucking time.”

“Like what?”

I shake my head in disgust. “I’m not discussing this, Olivia. Leave it.”

“Like what, Enrico? Tell me what unsavory means.”

“Brothels, strip clubs, illegal gambling.” I shrug. “Shit like that.”

“Drugs?”

“No. That was the first thing I stopped.” Our eyes are locked.

“Murder?” she whispers. “Do you kill people?”

I roll my eyes. “This isn’t the fucking Godfather, Olivia. In the past, yes, but not anymore. We run reputable businesses in seedy places. That’s it.”

“I’m just so confused by this all.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “That makes two of us.”