Page 377 of Valentino

“What are you waiting for, life is now. Decide what you want and take it.”

I smile sadly, “I wish.”

“Don’t wish for it. Do it. If you want a house in the suburbs, save and buy one. You never regret the things that you do, only the things that you didn’t.” He throws the ball and Bernard takes off after it. “Catch you later.”

“Bye.” I frown after him as he runs off.

You never regret the things that you do, only the things that you didn’t.

Hmm…….

Eight twenty a.m. and I inhale deeply to calm the beast within.

I’m furious.

Like a cornered animal waiting to strike.

Mr. Ferrara didn’t come back from lunch yesterday. He messaged me to say he was taking the rest of the day off and to cancel all his appointments.

Must have been some lunch date, he’s never done that before.

This is it, she’s the one. It’s finally happening, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Stupid fucking fuck face.

I hate him, I hate everything about him.

I collect my diary and pen and knock tentatively on his door. “Come in,” his deep voice purrs.

I open the door and with one look at him, I melt into a puddle of patheticness. He’s just gotten out of the shower; the towel is around his waist. Water is beading all over his skin and his black hair is hanging in curls. “Good morning, my Gracie.” He smiles.

My eyes drop to his big red lips, and I want to stab my eyes out with my pencil.

Anything to stop me seeing this perfection.

“Good morning, Gabriel,” I reply. “Last time I looked, I was not your Gracie.”

He lets out a deep chuckle, “You will always be my Gracie.” He walks to the coffee machine and begins making us coffee. “What’s on the agenda today boss?” He smiles.

I stare at him as a clusterfuck of emotion runs through me.

Did you fuck her?

Of course, you did, I slump into my chair at his desk.

I open his computer and see him bend and pick something up from the floor, “What’s this?” he asks.

“What?”

He opens a booklet, “It’s a pamphlet on Sardinia.”

“Oh, it must have fallen out of my diary.”

His eyes rise to meet mine. “Why do you have this?”

“Because I never want to go there, what do you think?” I roll my eyes as I click through to his diary.

“You want to go to Italy?” he asks as if surprised.