34

Francesca

Giulio showed up at my door after showering and dressing me. — Holy Christ, Frankie. I was worried about you last night. Are you well?

He was dressed like a fashion model, expensive fabrics draped carelessly over his slender body, his hair perfectly coiffed. Her features were softer than Faust's, beautiful in a more classical sense. His mother must have been beautiful too.

I sighed and waved him in. I was scared to death.

- I can believe. It was a bad storm. — He shook his head and closed the door. — My father's temper is a frightening thing. He must have been really mad at you to leave you out there.

I thought I could be honest with Giulio. — He asked me not to wear the black bikini during his date with Enzo.

— And did you wear it? — Giulio shuddered. — Bella, this was asking for trouble.

— I know, and he later explained why. But I didn't know any of that at the time. I should be able to wear whatever I want.

— You don't know many Italian men, do you?

— There are a lot of I