Page 111

“Bye.” I hang on the line. After a few moments, he hangs up.

I instantly open Facebook and look up Beverly Whalen on my friend list. The profile pic is a woman. She is one of my mom’s work friends, I’m sure of it. Huh?

I click on her profile. No friends, no address, no details. This is weird. I look up the date we became friends.

I got a friend request from her four weeks after I returned to Australia from Italy. I didn’t even look into her profile because I knew the face on the photo. Holy shit.

Beverly Whalen is Rici Ferrara.

With a stupid, huge smile on my face, I go through all my images over the last two years. He’s liked every single one.

He’s been watching me from afar. I should be appalled, disgusted… outraged.

Instead, I’m utterly thrilled.

He cared. Even though he may be wrapped in a bastard suit, I know he isn’t a bastard. I think that, deep down, I’ve always known that, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to move on from him. I don’t know what happened back then with us, or why he handled things the way that he did, but I don’t think I care anymore. I’m going to try my hardest to take him at face value moving forward.

I stand with a renewed excitement.

I need to pack. I’ve got a dirty weekend with a sex god on the horizon.

I can hardly wait.

________

The clock strikes three and I have to stop myself from running from my office.

He’s here, just outside. After waiting all week to see him, it’s finally time.

I play it cool and take my time to pack up my desk. Giorgio swings his head around the door. “Have a wonderful weekend, darling.”

“Thanks.”

For once, everything is going to plan, and not just for me. Natalie seems to have hit it off with her guy, too. She’s going on a date with him tonight that will hopefully last the entire weekend. I’m so relieved. I don’t know if I would have been comfortable going away if I knew she was sitting back here alone.

Giorgio saunters into my office and sits on my desk. “Have you got everything?”

“I’m all packed.” I swing my handbag over my shoulder and kiss his cheek. “Wish me luck.”

He assesses me. “No luck needed.” He stands and straightens my scarf. “Knock him dead.”

My heart begins to race as I make my way downstairs. Finding out that Rico has been stalking me on Facebook for the last two years has made this seem real, and all that more important to get right. I walk out of my building, and I look around.

Where is he? I don’t see him. Panic begins to set in.

Then a black Ferrari comes around the corner. It drives past me and pulls into the loading bay.

He’s here.

My stomach dances in excitement and I have to stop myself from running to him. I casually walk up to the car as if gorgeous rich men pick me up in black Ferraris every single day.

Calm, calm, keeping fucking calm.

I open the passenger door and lean in. “Hi.”

He smirks. “Hi.”

“Going my way?”