An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (16 page)

Okay, I can’t play this charade anymore. It’s wearing on mine
and Luca’s nerves, and we’re deceiving his mother, one of the sweetest people
I’ve ever met. “Simona, there’s something I need to tell you about Luca and
me.”

“Tsk. Tsk. You don’t have to say a thing. I already know,”
she answers, surprising me.

“You do?” I swallow hard.

“Of course. I can see it in the way Luca watches you, even
when you don’t realize it. The way he caters to your every need, no matter how
small or often. I can hear the passion in his voice each time he speaks of your
career. I can hear the concern when he tells me how helpless he feels because
of the sadness he sees in your eyes.”

“He talks about me?” I ask, surprised. Simona nods.

 “With you, I found it difficult to read your feelings at
first. I wasn’t sure if my son was a matter of appeasing your curiosity, or
something more. He is a rather handsome young man, the exact image of his
father, with his fair hair and bright blue eyes, the same height and body
shape. Women flocked to the canals to see the singing gondolier in the same way
they storm the doors of Black Butterfly hoping for the chance to win my son’s
heart. Forgive me for wondering if he’d truly managed to capture the eye of a
Dostovsky.”

“Was that the way you felt about Giuseppe at first?” I ask,
wondering why I’m still listening and not confessing.

“In the beginning, I believed so. Soon enough, I realized
what I felt wasn’t just curiosity in wanting to see a sexy man, but I had
fallen for him and never saw it coming. I was so very worried my Luca was going
to be like me ... career driven. Thinking I needed nothing but success. No
love. No affection other than the platonic. And then, I saw the way you kissed
him at the pier the day we arrived. At that moment, I knew my son’s world and
yours would never be the same again. I knew, Adriana.”

“What did you know?” I ask.

“What kind of mother cannot see when her son has fallen in
love? In doing so, you have given me the greatest gift of all. You have given
me hope.”

“Simona, I—”

“My family could not see the person I had become, because
they were too busy mourning the girl I left behind in Rome. Giuseppe saw me,
though. Embraced me. Loved me. The real me, the same as Luca sees what’s inside
you. What you might have thought was something that only happens in fairy tales
has become your reality. When you open your eyes, as well as your heart, and
you truly embrace the magic, your prince will appear in all his glory. Then,
and only then, he will heal all those things fighting inside you.” Beaming a
smile that brings tears to my eyes, she kisses my forehead. The words I was
about to say are suddenly lost among the voices of the women singing in the
distance.

“Come now. Inside we go. No more talking. Only sightseeing.”
She dabs at a tear in her eye, too.

The final stop of the day takes place inside the Ospedeli,
where young girls learn how to sing, dance, and play new works by classical
composers. Simona greets the headmaster at the door, a short, stout woman who
is about a decade older than Luca’s mom. The loveliest combination of female
voices I think I’ve ever heard drifts toward me, filling me with an energy that
makes me want to lose myself inside the sound, giving me a moment alone to
process the things Simona told me. The music is coming from somewhere inside
the building, and my feet take on a life of their own, moving toward the sound.

I take a seat inside of a large auditorium. A group of
twenty-five women are rehearsing to Vivaldi’s sacred music.
Their
voices truly remind me of what a song from Heaven might sound like.

“Close your eyes and
listen closely,” Simona says, coming to take a seat beside me. “Open your mind
to what you’re hearing behind the melodies. Soon enough, you’ll begin to see
the light of the Heavens.” The sadness in her voice worries me. I’ve also
noticed the same look in her in-laws faces, and especially her sons.

I do as she says and
find out she’s right. The purity of the voices singing Vivaldi, the way they
harmonize and sync vibrates through my chest, making me feel as though I’m
filled with goodness and light. It tells me that it’s okay to let go of the
sadness, that what happened the night my family and I left Moscow shouldn’t
destroy my hope to have a positive future with my friends and the family I have
left. It’s okay to find another guy sexy and intriguing; one who according to
his mother may have already fallen for me.

Most of all, I finally
accept that it’s not my fault the man I long for—at least, I think I do …
infatuation can be a tricky little monster hiding in the sand and waiting to
sting the crap out of you like a jellyfish—the person I have idolized to the
point of obsession loves his ambitions more than he’ll ever love me.

I don’t want to be a
wounded little song bird, trying to fly with a broken wing. Nope. The idea of
what it means to lose myself, and the reality of finally experiencing the
moment, hits me hard, and a sob waves through me. Inhaling a trembling breath,
I cover my eyes and let the moment devour me.

“Oh, Adriana, darling,
what’s wrong?” Simona asks, holding me in her arms as we sit together on the
bench, the closest thing to a true motherly embrace I’ve had in a long time.
The kind that makes you feel like you can goof up in life and be fine
afterwards because your mother’s waiting to scoop you up, kiss you, and tell
you everything will work out.

“The music is so
beautiful,” I choke out.

“There now, my girl. I
did the same thing when I first came here with Giuseppe. How very much alike we
are.” I gasp because she’s telling the truth. No two women could ever have more
in common. “Let it all out. Watch the dark things fly away and trust in being
happy.”

I’m also beginning to
piece together a puzzle that I think should be left inside the box. Kind of
like the jigsaws that have a thousand or more pieces, with just as many colors
in the design. However, the challenge of completing something so complicated, the
thrill of discovering the picture at the end of the game, draws us in;
frustrating us at times and lifting us up at others. I do as Simona instructs,
opening not only my mind, but also my heart. Sadly, after spending one of the
most gorgeous moments of my life reminiscing and reliving every aspect of
Simona’s honeymoon with the love of her life, I can tell that for some reason
she’s saying good-bye.

Adriana

Later
that night, I dream of the alley again.

I’m
running, and then falling backward, slamming my head against the ground. He’s
there hovering over me, the man with no face, pinning my arms and laughing, a
horrible sound that reminds me of a monster. A demonic growl paired with the
scent of alcohol that’s so strong I think my body’s covered in it. I can’t move
or fight back because I’ve sprained my ankle. The sequence changes on me this
time.

Instead
of playing out a familiar part of my past, the dream alters the man’s face.
It’s my father. I’m standing outside my body now, watching him strangle first
Alek, then Mother, and finally me, his family. My older brother stands off to
the side, screaming for him to stop. At once Father turns his face toward me
and holds up his bloody hands as he sneers. I scream. The dream fades just
before he charges at me.

I
find myself in bed, trembling furiously the way I always do after waking up
from these nightmares. A pair of strong arms holds onto my body, and a male’s
voice keeps telling me I’m okay and everything will be all right now. He’s
stroking my hair and my body’s drenched in sweat. The slightest hint of a kiss
tickles my lips. I give in to it, hungrily seeking more and getting an equally
enthusiastic response in a lip and tongue lock that lasts for almost a minute.
Pulling back, I glance up and into the eyes of my rescuer, Luca. He’s breathing
even harder than I am.

“You
were having a bad dream. It’s all right. I’ll protect you,” he whispers,
pulling a light blanket around my shoulders. Freshly washed hair falls into his
eyes, giving him a boyish appeal. I’m holding a fistful of his shirt in my left
hand and still trying to separate the fantasy from the reality as I fully
awaken.

Our
mouths are so close, we’re practically sharing the same breath. Waking up in
another man’s arms besides Nikolai’s feels different; yet, being close to Luca
this way doesn’t make me want to run. I honestly believe if he lets me go now,
I’ll fall right back into the hell that has been haunting me more frequently
than ever before.

“It
was Nikolai,” I say, not understanding why I’ve said his name or why I’ve
chosen this moment to start explaining my story about a man who’s more
complicated than a history book on the succession of England’s kings and
queens. Or maybe it has something to do with me accepting the things Luca said
about him always being the one who opens up to me, but not getting the same
treatment in return. Luca’s body tenses and his hand stops moving in my hair.

“What
did he do? Did he hurt you?” he demands. His tone is dark and anger flashes in
his eyes.

“No.
He saved me.”
Killed someone for me.
Closing my eyes, I frown and start
again, “It was eight years ago. He stopped a man ... This person hurt me ...
Nikolai pulled him off me. He ... this is so hard.” Opening my eyes, my breath
catches in my throat and my chest feels tight enough to choke someone.

“Oh
no, little Maia. Don’t worry about telling me this right now. I could see you
were upset today,” Luca says, his eyes filled with warmth and concern. “Get
some sleep. I’ll be right outside the room.” Dread slams into me as he attempts
to move away.

“Don’t
go. Stay with me.”

He
pauses, and I can almost see the questions storming inside his eyes, the
emotions darkening them, and I can’t help but to think of what Simona told me
about him. Has the great Luca Martuccio, a man known for his inability to
commit to any one woman, fallen for me? I want to know. The curiosity stings.
“Are you sure? I can sleep over in the chair,” he offers.

I
don’t think I’ve ever been more certain of anything. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He
pulls me close, his strong arms encircling my body. I inhale the scent of him,
a sense of relief washing over me as he strokes the hair on top of my head, the
lulling waves of the Grand Canal outside our window the only sound in the room.
As sleep trickles back into my aching head, and I find that sweet spot between
going under and staying awake, I say, “
Pozhaluista.
Please don’t leave
me.”

“Never,”
he replies. There’s a passion in his voice that soothes me, just before he
mutters another phrase that I must’ve dreamt, because I could’ve sworn I just
heard him say, “I will never leave someone I love ever again.”

Adriana

Day
4

I
think the words Club Piccolo Mondo and Martuccio brothers were created to go
together about as successfully as those doomed lovers in all the romance novels
Lis has been gobbling up since she started getting serious with Byron a few
months ago. Some big shot politician’s son owns the club, and I’m not surprised
that Rafe greets almost every single man, woman, and beast—not really, but some
of the misbehaving drunken guys could pass as one—that meets us as we wait
outside the door.

What
does make me curious is Luca’s hesitation to go inside. Glancing at the
exterior, a dark building with hints of both Eastern and Gothic elements mixed
together with its weathered red exterior, black shutters trimmed in golden
carvings that remind me of Chinese writing, and gargoyles guarding either side
of the entrance, he stares at the door for so long that I begin to think I’ll
have to drag him inside. Maybe he’s afraid of the big black wooden doors
leading into a place that reminds me of a club where a ripper might hang out.

“What’s
wrong?” I ask, anxious to go inside and unwind. I’ve reached a part in the
Thorn
Birds
where Meggie has discovered that loving the priest, Ralph de
Bricassart, is more than likely a waste of her time, and has moved on to a
well-tended pasture in the form of a guy she met during her brother’s sheep
skinning contest. And his name is Luke. More and more I feel that Lis choosing
to pass that book into my hands is a sign. Not only does it feel like the
events of my own life are connected to Meggie’s, but I’m also feeling the
message behind the story, although, I’ll never confess my thoughts to Lis. She
would never let me live it down and would probably tease me all the way into
the grave.

Still,
there’s something to be said about learning to let go of those things that we
cannot change, and opening ourselves up to receive whatever we’ve been missing
out on, because sitting around with my eyes wide shut never gets me anywhere
besides right back at the place where I started. At some point, I need to woman
up, open them and check out what lies on the road ahead of me.

“Are
we going in? Or will we be standing out here admiring the architecture?” I ask.

Luca
shrugs, runs a hand through his hair, and lifts his eyebrows, crinkling his
forehead—a sexy gesture on most men, but on this man, it just does something
indescribable inside my chest and stomach. Both of us wore black clothes
tonight. For Luca, the designer look works, it’s his everyday gig. However, for
me, this is something different, a break away from the standard beige and
brown, symbols of the crispy clean girl I’d love to drown in the canal.

“Ready
or not, here we come,” he says to no one in particular. At least he remembers
I’m standing there because suddenly he reaches down and takes my hand, pulling
me along behind his brother and Kami.

We
enter the party, an ode to all things sexually charged and … what’s that big,
weird word that Mother likes to use? Raunchy! That’s the one. Club music with a
bass that vibrates straight through your body booms out of the speakers. The
dancer inside me fires to life.

Rafe
and Kami waste no time joining in the action as they find a spot amongst the
crowd, turn toward each other, and start grinding their bodies to the beat of
the music. They’re pretty much having sex on the dance floor. With her long,
dark hair and pale skin, she almost makes me think he’s convinced Erin Angelo
into coming with him tonight. But then, I know that’s not true, because Alek
has successfully managed to do all the roping of Erin. I can tell by the way he
talks about her. Plus, each time I stop by Black Butterfly, Erin always asks me
something about him, even though her question might not make any sense. His
enthusiasm isn’t only about her designs, or the fact that she has thought of a
kick ass name for the Gothic Ballerina line of clothing she created for his and
Nikolai’s production,
Requiem
, but it’s also in the tone of Alek’s voice
each time he talks about her. Especially when he asked me to move in with her
for a while without going into heavy details on why he wants me to do so.

It
doesn’t take a detective to figure out my brother the workaholic,
non-committal, hardball swinger has fallen for someone ... finally! I guess
miracles do happen. Either that or he has some kind of terminal illness. Maybe
his infection will rub off on Mr. N.

“We
don’t have to stand around watching everyone else have fun. You know that,
right?” Luca says in my ear, his breath startling me back to focus on his face.

“Think
you can dance like that?” I yell over the music. I’m almost certain he can move
even better than Rafe, but with a guy like Luca you cannot inflate his head too
much at once or you will regret doing so for the rest of the time they choose
to give you their attention.

“What
do you say?” I ask, giving him my most mischievous grin. Dressed in a
sleeveless black skater’s dress and those fake ballerina slippers that are so
popular these days, I came prepared. I’m ready to give Sir Romeo a run for his
reputation.

“You
tell me, Signorina Ballerina Badass. You’re the professional,” he replies,
giving me a dangerously dark look, and takes my hand before I can protest.

“The
dance floor is mi casa. So you’d better be careful. We’re on my territory now.
We play by my rules. Up for the challenge?” I ask in his ear as I inhale his
scent, a combination of musk, soap, and a manliness that affects my body in a
way that’s hard to explain. Leaning back, we stare into each other’s eyes, the
commotion around us intensifying an already charged moment.

“What
are you doing, Adriana?” he asks, his eyes glowing with excitement for the
first time since we arrived.

“Trust
in your little ballerina.”

“Believe
me, I do trust,” he says, his gaze raking up and down my body.

We
move to the middle of the floor, right in the heart of a crowd that’s
celebrating the weekend. I don’t think any other country finds time to
celebrate the smallest joys in life the way the Italians do. The DJ must be on
Luca’s side tonight because the tune changes to a sexy beat with a bass line
that rocks straight through every pore in my body. We press against each other
and rock to the beat, his hands exploring my body and me doing the same, giving
in to a complete loss of self-control. As someone who dances for a living, I
find it easy to enjoy almost every kind of music; and Luca’s dancing skills
doesn’t disappoint, which makes what we’re doing so much more fun. After
dancing through three more songs, we take a break and find a seat close to the
bar at the back of the club. Rafe and Kami join us a few minutes later.

A
girl with light brown hair approaches our group, heading straight for Luca’s
seat. “You got balls of steel for coming back here,” she says to him. Her gaze
rakes over me, and I get the full punch from her glare. She’s still staring at
me when she says, “Leona’s here, in case you want to know.” Luca swallows hard,
his expression changing from confident to worry.

A
pang of jealousy hits me. The last couple of days have been tough for all of
us, including Luca and his wild brothers, but especially for Simona. Whatever
secret the family is harboring has worn down the good mood from the first few
days we stayed in Venice, and tonight both Luca and I connected on a dance
floor in a club of all places. What started out as curiosity between two
people, who thought a road trip was going to be all about sexual chemistry, has
turned into something deeper, something personal. The moment I agreed to be
Luca’s mind slave for the duration of this trip started it all. Now I find
myself fighting yet another notion of the need to protect what’s mine.

“I
have a right to be here, Tila,” he says, passing a quick glance at me before
turning back to tequila or whatever.

She
gives him a sarcastic laugh. “You think? You should be ashamed for bringing
your whore here of all places.”

Okay,
that’s it. I’ve had about all of her nastiness I can take. I open my mouth, but
Luca holds up a hand, his gaze locked on hers. The girl quickly takes a step
back. I’ve seen Luca’s temper, and I suspect she has as well, because she
clamps her mouth shut as he steps toward her. “Her name is Adriana. She is not
a whore. You got your problems with me. Fine, I get that, but you won’t be
talking about her in that way again. Understand?”

“We’ll
see how long this lasts after I tell Marcello that you’re here,” Tila threatens
with a smile.

“I
don’t give a shit who you tell,” Luca snaps back as he takes my hand in his.
The girl’s gaze slides to our clasped hands, lingering for a few seconds before
she shakes her head and says to me, “You have no idea what kind of trouble
you’re holding hands with, baby.”

She
turns to Rafe and Kami, beaming a smile, and says, “Good to see you Rafael and
date.”

“Wish
we could say the same,” Luca adds. Rolling her eyes upward, she turns around
and heads up the stairs leading to a second, but smaller level of the club.
Instantly, she moves toward a dark-haired guy, who is sitting in the lounge
positioned directly above and across from where we are. Luca follows her trail,
staring so long I begin to wonder if he’d rather go after her than sit here
with me.

“Do
you need to go talk to someone?” I ask, feeling odd all of a sudden.

“What?
No way.” His mega-watt smile returns, but it’s not enough to lessen my
curiosity. Also, I can tell that his mood has shifted; the sadness I saw in his
eyes the first time we met is back again.

“We
can leave if you want,” I suggest.

He
glances toward Rafe and says, “Mama will be disappointed. We didn’t find
Giovanni the way she wanted,” he explains. I know the mood swing doesn’t have a
thing to do with his missing brother. I can tell by the way he keeps glancing
up at the guy sitting in the lounge, who has suddenly taken an interest in the
two of us.

“Tila’s
right,” Rafe begins, “you shouldn’t have come. You knew what would happen.”

“Don’t
start your shit with me, Rafe. You know why I had to be here tonight.”

“Can
someone tell me what I’ve missed?” I ask, feeling both annoyed and confused.

“Later,”
Luca replies, standing and holding out his hand for me to take. “We’re
leaving.”

“Don’t
you want to wait for Giovanni?” Taking his hand, I stand, but before Luca has
the chance to explain why we’ve decided to leave, the Tila girl bounces back
toward us. Luca has been totally uncomfortable the entire time we’ve been at
the club, and I suspect Tila Tequila here plays a large part in my date’s
situation.

“You
Martuccios should’ve just stayed away,” Tila says, but she’s staring straight
at Luca, a smug look on her face. The guy from the second floor—someone who
reminds me of a younger version of Al Pacino, the actor Mother obsesses
over—approaches. Dressed in a tailored gray suit highlighted by a red dress
shirt opened at the collar, this man reminds me of some of the agents my father
runs with: slick, charming, and deadly. Rafe and Kami both stand as well.
Luca’s older brother’s demeanor has changed, turning him into the man I’ve
heard makes deals with investment bankers around the world. His face is serious
as his gaze locks on the man approaching our table.

“Rafael
and Luciano Martuccio,” the guy says as he approaches, his arms stretched wide
as though welcoming his family members instead of two people who obviously have
some type of strained history with him. He embraces Rafe first, and Luca next.

“Right
now, I’m thinking something catastrophic must have happened.” He’s smiling, but
a dangerous aura surrounds his body, along with the two burly men who have
stepped up behind him.

“Nothing
you wouldn’t have already heard about, Marcello,” Rafe answers. “We do need to
talk about the account you opened without telling me.”

“Business.
Of course you’re here to talk business. That must be the case. Either that or
you’ve lost your fucking mind by bringing that asshole back into my club.” He’s
talking about Luca. I’m thinking I must’ve stepped into one of those mob movies
where the men hug and tell childhood stories just before the arguing parties
draw guns and shoot the crap out of one another.