An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (20 page)

~Luca~

What the hell is happening to me? Did I
just finish masturbating in front of a woman? A beautiful one who was all but
willing to give me her virginity, but I instead, turned it down? Was that me?
Someday, I’m certain I’ll figure it out. But right now, I’m going to enjoy
watching her sleep as we sail along the canal, the only sound the swish of the
waters around us. I know my brothers won’t be happy to hear about what I’ve
done. I’ve crossed a line here tonight. Broken every promise I made to myself
five years ago. Not one bit of that matters to me.

I am a Roman-Sicilian man, the son of Giuseppe Martuccio. We
believe in following our hearts with passion, no matter the consequences, and
even though I swore I would never fall for another woman, that damn Martuccio
gene is the one thing that’s working against me.

I bury my face in Adriana’s hair,
inhaling her scent, still tasting the sweetness of her juices on my lips. She’s
innocent in a way that makes someone want to kill to protect her. And I suspect
she’s loyal to a fault once she sets her heart on caring about someone. I
tighten my embrace on her body and drift off, my dreams peaceful for the first
time in years.

The next morning, I wake up with an angel
lying in my arms. Glancing around, I focus on our surroundings. The gondola has
stopped rowing. Our gondolier pokes his head into the opening and says, “I do
believe Jack and his lovely wife, Rose, have arisen.” I hesitate to wake my
brave little ballerina up, but we need to head back to the hotel.

“Where are we?” she asks, her blue eyes
misted as she squints and focuses on my face. “Are we still in the gondola?”

“I do believe the angels are watching
over us since it appears our driver docked and disappeared until this morning,”
I answer, thinking of the way she massaged me until I was able to come last
night. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

“Did we actually spend the night in a
gondola?”

“Er, we did,” I confirm. A smile spreads
across her face, and she rests her forehead against my shoulder, her tiny
shoulders shaking. She’s laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“Everything and nothing. Don’t ask,” she
says.

“Deal.” I can’t hurt this girl. I need to
end this now, before I do what I know how to do best … breaking someone’s
heart. I can tell she’s just as confused as I am, but she wanted me at the same
time. A woman’s eyes tell a story of many tales, and Adriana’s soul is
screaming for someone to understand the person hiding inside her little body, a
butterfly caught in a cage. Nothing so beautiful should be kept locked away
inside anything.

On the way back to the Baglioni, Adriana
smiles as she stares out the window. The silence is killing me. “What’s on your
mind?”

“Nothing,” she says, her head propped on
the edge of our taxi, her long hair blowing in the wind.

“Do you always smile when ‘nothing’ is
going through your mind?” I ask. We’re less than six inches apart. I can still
taste her on my lips, can smell the evidence of the moment we shared last
night.

“Not always. Only when sexy wizards are
involved,” she answers, smiling in a way that makes her blue eyes shine even
brighter, if that’s possible.

“You will never let me forget telling you
about Harry Potter, will you? You should know I’ll never tell you anything ever
again.” Not true. I’ll tell her anything she wants to know. This isn’t what I
expected when I took the time to set up our nighttime ride on the canal, to
find myself in the arms of a Juliette, laughing and joking about the things I
did during my childhood.

“I’ll never forget a lot of things after
last night.” She moves closer to me, snuggling up under my arm. Let it go. Even
better, I need to let her go.
For once in your miserable life you need to do
the right thing.
I can’t.

“What can I say? I’m unforgettable,” I
tease, feeling confident in my arrogance. “I was wondering if you’d be able to
handle my epic manliness.”

“Have you ever tried being humble?” she
asks, pushing herself away from my body and shaking her head.

“What fun is
normale
? I drove you
insanely wild last night, did I not? Do you think I would’ve been able to do something
like that if I was known as Signor Normal? I’m a designer, for Mary’s sake.
Admit it. I’m the Roman god of wild and delicious sex.”

“Luca! The people.” She slides her eyes
toward the other three people, two women and an older man, sitting on our water
taxi. They’ve been tuned in to our conversation the entire time we’ve been
discussing our escapade. There’s something about having an audience that turns
me on, so I move my lips down to her neck. She jumps and tries to push me away.
No luck.

“Mi amore. How I want to love thee. Suck
thee. Stick my—”

“Luca!” She attempts to cover my mouth
with her hand, but I grab her wrists, holding them down. Her cheeks are turning
redder by the second and the people around us are working hard to pretend
nothing’s going on with the horny couple that smells like sex.

I turn to the passengers. As though on
cue, the man and woman sitting across from us decide to chance a peek in our
direction. “She can’t wait to get me home. It’s sex on the balcony tonight,
right, my love?” I beam a smile at the couple and continue holding onto
Adriana. Lowering her face into her palms, she starts shaking her head. I’m
almost certain that when she lifts her face, her skin will have turned purple.
I pull her close to me, but she keeps her face buried a short moment longer
before lifting it and giving me a playful, narrow-eyed glance.

Then, she shocks the shit out of me. “I
think I’ll take you home, tie you to a post, beat you, and then screw you to
death. How does that sound, hun?” The woman sitting across from us gasps. The
man’s beaming a smile at me now, nodding his approval or respect for my
girlfriend’s appetite. And Adriana beams a devious smile at me. I catch the
message she’s sending loud and clear: fuck with me and I’ll get you back. I’m
impressed. I didn’t think she had such wit and sass in her. After last night, I
should know better. My badass ballerina has scored yet another point toward
nailing my heart inside the coffin.

Adriana

The
next afternoon, Simona stops by my room while Luca and Rafe are out searching
for party goods. Pia and Gustavo are holding one of the many Martuccio family
reunions, a traditional celebration they have nicknamed the Ceremony of Doves
in honor of Giuseppe and Gustavo’s parents’ first date the couple went on in
Sicily back in the 40’s. As usual, Luca’s mother looks like a woman in her
early 30’s with her light blue dress and waist-length hair braided and hanging
over her left shoulder. The fragrance she wears reminds me of a flower garden,
and right away, I think of her lovely home back in Tuscany and Luca’s hidden
cork collection.

Thinking
of anything Luca related right now brings color into my cheeks. I can’t help
it. We both kind of lost control of ourselves last night, and I’m not sure what
to make of the situation. Part of me feels refreshed, and the other half is
fighting a battle with guilt. Luca swears on his life that he doesn’t do mushy,
sentimental things, but it doesn’t get any more emotionally charged and mushy
than planning a ride on a gondola modeled and named after a queen. I also have
the feeling, but I’m not sure, our disappearance last night might be part of
the reason Simona has decided to come to my room.

Either
way, I’m thankful for her assistance since my own hair has decided to develop a
life of its own. I have no idea what to do with the unruly mess. “Come now, my
girl. Let me help you.” Simona waits for me to sit down, picks up my brush, and
begins untangling my hair.

“I’m
going to make us late,” I say, sighing.

“Nonsense.
You have beautiful hair. Reminds me of my baby sister, Ramona’s luscious
locks,” she says as she sets to work on my strands.

“I
didn’t know you had sisters.”

She
inhales deeply, her gaze focused on my hair. “I haven’t spoken to or seen
either of my sisters in years,” she says, stroking my hair with the ease of a
woman whose hand has graced the mane of a daughter for years, even though I
know she has three sons. “I left Rome to follow my heart when I was younger. My
parents, being devout Catholics, disowned me for choosing to become a ballerina
in a world famous repertory instead of the wife of the baker’s son down the
street.”

Closing
my eyes, I listen to Simona tell me the story of Cinderella, but with a twist.
Instead of there being an evil stepmother and two ugly stepsisters involved in
the heroine’s torture, it was her real family who chose to turn their back on
the ballerina who decided to pursue a career in modeling and fine arts. I can
see the mother’s reasons for disowning her daughter, even though I don’t agree
with them at all, but the sisters’ estrangement was more than likely motivated
by jealousy of their eccentric sister. How many times did my older brother,
Dmitri, get Alek into trouble just because he knew his younger half-brother was
the talented one in the family? I honestly lost count because it happened so
often.

“I
wanted to reunite with my sisters. And now, I’m no longer able.” There’s so
much pain in her eyes that I can’t bear to see the way she hurts. Standing, I
embrace her.

“One
day they’ll see how badly they treated you and come around,” I murmur, thinking
of my brothers and how I used to ask my imaginary fairy godmother if she could
bring my family back together again. A few moments of silence pass before she
pulls back, staring at me.

“Adriana,
I need to tell you something. I ...” Her face takes on a faraway look as she
attempts to finish her last sentence. I can tell she wants to say more, but
Luca rushes through the front door and he’s calling out for us.

My face heats as memories of what we did
last night come flooding back into my head, the way his luscious mouth explored
my body. All of my body. He’s all sex as usual with his black slacks and short
sleeved, red dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His hair is tousled on top
and I can smell a combination of fresh linens, soap, and cologne drifting
toward me. Somehow, I think I must have turned into a dog in heat because the
very scent of him causes a throb to fire up between my legs. I find a nice
comfy spot on my hands to focus on.

“There’s
my two favorite girls, hiding and sharing female secrets, I suppose.” Luca
stops at the doorway, his eyes rolling over my outfit—a pink mini dress and
black ballet slippers—the perfect complement to his outfit. Pink was never a
color I dared to even think about liking, let alone putting on my body except
during recitals when I had no choice. I always asked Mother if I could wear a
black tutu. She would only scoff and tell me I was definitely my father’s
daughter. I was already too close to being a coddled princess. The color pink
outside of ballet made me feel girly and boring. I don’t know, maybe being the
daughter of a Russian Mafiya Lord has screwed up my mind. What girl doesn’t
like pink? However, this evening’s celebration requires the females to wear a
pastel. And since sage green got me into so much trouble last night, I figured
I’d see what a little pink thrown into the adventure might do. I’ve also chosen
to wear my dark hair loose today instead of pulling it up into my signature
bun. Thanks to Simona’s skill with long hair, I no longer have a head of
tumbleweeds.

“You
look stunning,” Luca says, his hands clasped behind his back as though he’s
afraid of getting punished for touching me. “Are you two ready to go?”

I
glance at Simona and nod. She’s beaming a smile as she watches the two of us,
and I’m turning about as red as a beet when I think of her having any hint of
an idea about the things Luca and I did last night. “After you, my ladies,”
Luca says, taking a step back so we can walk through the door and into the
hallway.

The
family reunion takes place at Pia and Gustavo’s house, a split-level home
located in the heart of the Veneto. There are about thirty guests inside the
house. The people range in age from about five to fifty-five years. The females
have all been instructed to wear some kind of pastel dress, and the men are
wearing dark bottoms and darker versions of the colors on their partners’
clothing. Holding on to Luca’s arm, I get introduced to more people than I’ll
ever be able to remember. The scent of pastries and sweet drink lingers in the
air of the room we stay in only long enough to make our way outside.

A
large wooden table filled with more food, flowers, and white balloons than I’ve
ever seen in my life sits outside in the middle of the yard. Two large speakers
are situated on opposite ends of the yard and people are sitting along the
edges of the lawn, conversing and eating. The music of Italian, American, and
even a tune or two from a couple of Mother Russia’s artists, rotates throughout
the next half hour. Pia and Gustavo have taken great pains to make sure I feel
welcome and I truly appreciate the effort. Looking at the front of the house, I
didn’t think the backyard would be as large as the one I’m standing inside.
Half the size of a stadium, the yard spreads toward a field that gives a view
of the landscape as it opens up and heads toward the mountainous region of
Brino Alto in the far distance. Gustavo’s house sits on the border of Veneto,
which means his yard crosses the borderline between the cities, creating
gorgeous landscape scenery.

Gabriela
makes her way over to Luca and me. She looks stunning in a silky yellow dress
that makes her black hair stand out and gives her dark skin a healthy glow. I
get introduced as the ballerina with the famous Maestro brother to her friends,
and right away, I turn into something of a goddess in their eyes. Not only have
I managed to snag their favorite cousin, but I also belong to a famous family
of sex gods according to Gabriela and crew. No one celebrates like the
Italians. The first hour passes in no time. I’m holding my own with Luca’s
family and surprisingly, I find that means a lot to me.

Someone
turns the music down. It’s Pia.

“Hold
on, everyone,” Pia begins, her red dress hanging on her curves, giving her a
youthful glow. She’s the only female besides Julia who’s not following the
rules by wearing a dark blue dress, Luca’s favorite hue.

I
didn’t even see Julia come outside, but now that I know she’s around, I start
to get anxious. Luca still hasn’t said much about her at all. And then I get a
bit angry. He could’ve told me one of his old girlfriends or ex-fucking
buddies, or whatever she considers herself to be, was going to be stalking his
family reunion today. I attempt to pull my arm away while he’s talking to Rafe
about a concern with getting the rest of the outfits for the Gothic Ballerina
line shipped in time for the preview night. Instead of releasing me, he holds
on tighter. Ugh! He’s both strong and arrogant.

“What
is wrong with you?” he whispers furiously when we’re finally able to steal an
alone moment. I don’t say anything. Instead, I let my gaze drift over to where
Julia’s pretending not to notice us. “Ah. I see.” He turns my body until I’m
facing him, massages my shoulders, caresses my arms, and says, “This is our
day. In my eyes, no one else exists except for the butterfly standing before
me.”

Funny,
he calls me a butterfly. My father used to do the same thing. “Nice poetry, but
it’s not getting you off the hook.”
His words are completely getting him off
the hook.
“Why didn’t you tell me she was going to be here?”

“Because
I didn’t think it was necessary.”

Scoffing,
I try to pull away, but Luca has the death hold on my wrists. I don’t
understand what’s going on with me right now. Obviously, Luca knows because
he’s smiling. “You think this is funny?” I grumble.

“Not
at all, but I do believe you’re jealous.” A smile spreads across those lips.

“No
freaking way!” He’s too damn observant. No wonder he’s such a good fashion
designer. I want to smack him for being so smug and arrogant and right on
point.

Everyone
turns their attention toward Pia. Everybody except Julia, because she’s too
busy studying the way Luca’s holding on to me. Across the yard, her gaze meets
mine. I can tell she still has something going on in her head where Luca’s
concerned. As though he can sense what’s going on without looking at either one
of us, Luca tightens his muscles at the spot on his arm I’m holding on to. I
glance up at him and get a wide grin in return. He hasn’t once turned his head
in Julia’s direction. Maybe I need to just take a chill out moment and trust
the man standing by my side. I turn my attention back to Pia.

“Martuccio
family tradition has it that our newest couple takes the first official dance.”
Pia’s standing in the middle of the group as she speaks, but all eyes turn
toward Luca and me. Blush fires up on my cheeks. Not because I’m embarrassed;
instead, it’s because things have changed between Luca and me.

Luca
leans down and whispers in my ear, “We don’t have to do this.” He has no idea
how much I want to do this, especially with the cougar on the prowl across the
way.

“And
miss the chance to see your slow dance game? Not a chance.” I pull back and
gaze into his eyes. “After you, my dearest.” He stares me down, no doubt
impressed by my bravery. Hell, I’m in awe of the things I’ve had the guts to do
over the past few days.

Someone’s
throat clears. It’s Gustavo.

“Young
love is so beautiful,” Pia gushes. I glance at Simona, and even though she’s
smiling, she still hasn’t been her normally vibrant self. She seems distracted
and unusually pale. Tomorrow we head out to visit Giuseppe’s resting spot; that
has to be what’s bothering her. I turn my attention back on Luca as a classic
Italian love song called
Ritorna A Mi,
or Return to Me, sung by the Rome
Session Singers fills the area around us.