Stealing Venice

Home > Other > Stealing Venice > Page 16
Stealing Venice Page 16

by Anna E Bendewald


  Vincenzo grabbed her around the waist again, and this time he bent down, and in one fluid movement put her over his shoulder. Turning around to face Markus, he was presenting her rear-end and bare legs to him.

  “Markus! I’m her other half. Please come inside, and we can relax. If I know Gigi, she’s been working you from sunup to sundown, but now the weekend has begun!”

  “Bonjour, Vincenzo. I must go clean up now. I will come later.” Markus nodded and turned in the direction of the stable house.

  “Of course, I understand,” Vincenzo called as he turned and carried Giselle toward the château. “We’ll see you at the dinner party tonight. We’ve got all weekend to get acquainted.”

  Speaking in a mixture of French and Italian, Giselle scolded her happy husband. “Stop! You’re crazy, V! Seriously, knock it off! My shoe! You do this in front of someone you haven’t met? I’m telling your mother on you.”

  Giselle looked up in time to see Markus stalk into the stable house. Vincenzo swung her back down to her feet and waited while she put her shoe back on.

  “Where’s Henri?”

  “He just dropped me off. He had to get back to the hotel.” Vincenzo draped his arm around her shoulders. Together they walked around to the front of the château and retrieved his small suitcase and briefcase from the front steps before climbing the stairs.

  From her bedroom suite, Giselle could hear Vincenzo rustling around in his own suite of rooms across the hall, unpacking his briefcase and setting his work out on his desk. Talking loudly so she could hear him, he updated her on their weekend plans and his work schedule, while she hid away from him to conceal her confusion. My God! I almost kissed Markus! Am I turning into one of my slutty bunny friends? With my thighs wrapped around him, so help me God, I wanted to…

  She was snapped back to the present as Vincenzo called out to her, “I have a couple of business calls to get out of the way. But the most exciting deals are about to be signed. Mama will be here any time now, but please don’t worry. She’s coming with enough food for an army, by the sound of it, and she’s called Selma to help her. Apparently the whole gang has invited themselves to get a peek at what you’ve been creating.”

  “I should get my work area cleaned up so no one breaks anything…”

  “Right, can’t have anyone getting hurt.” He sounded distracted.

  “I’ll go do that now.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No, you know I don’t like anyone touching my supplies.” She headed into the hall.

  “Okay, I’ll get on these calls. I promise I’ll be done in time for dinner and we can enjoy our weekend. Sound good?”

  “Sì, sì,” she acknowledged on her way past his room. She hurried out of the great house, feeling a languid warmth in her lower belly. Once in the greenhouse, she secured the irrodium case, then locked it in the cabinet. She’d just packed up the rest of her supplies when she heard the sound of a crash coming from the direction of the stable house. She heard a quick succession of bangs that sounded like violent smashing of metal and glass, and ran to investigate. She twisted the doorknob of the stable house, let herself in and closed the door behind her, before following the sound toward the workshop. Markus was standing shirtless in front of an art piece he’d made, holding a cane. The sculpture was ruined, and he was shaking.

  She winced. “Oh Markus, no.”

  He dropped the cane, turned away from his trashed sculpture, and walked past her into the stable house.

  “I am going crazy,” he choked. “I have no right…he is your husband…Ivar was right…I cannot be near you.”

  “No. Please. I…” She hunted for something to say.

  Markus looked at her. His face was streaked with tears, his mixed emotions exposed, revealing anguished conflict. “I want you so…completely. I am in Hell!”

  She walked over and tentatively stroked the tears from his face. She didn’t know how to tell him she felt the same way. Feeling as if words had deserted her, she moaned, “Oh, Markus please don’t cry.”

  Surprising her, he pulled her to him until their foreheads touched.

  “I cannot stay here any longer.” He breathed softly and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t go.” She kissed him softly on the lips.

  He grasped her to him fiercely, but returned her kiss with tenderness. He half sighed, half growled with frustration as she allowed his tongue to softly lick the inner pillows of her lips and then caress her tongue. Shocked that she would allow such a sexual kiss, but unable to stop himself, he kissed and licked her mouth with infinite gentleness. His hand slipped under the soft film of her dress and slowly followed the shape of her body. Conflicted, he stopped kissing her, dropped onto a cane-backed chair and pressed his face into her stomach.

  “I want you so...” He stroked his fingers along her waist and made a stark confession. “I am completely in love with you, Giselle.”

  The delicious kiss had made the warm pool in her belly spread, and now feeling his hot breath on her stomach pushed her over the edge. Giselle placed a fingertip under his chin and gently tipped his face up to look at her. With her other hand she flicked the snaps of her dress open revealing her bare breasts, and he gasped as she offered them to him. She kicked off her shoes and he groaned, but was too immersed in his longing to question her motives. Looking up at her, his hands cupped her breasts and he began to stroke them with his agile fingers. Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked into his blue eyes as he leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples until she felt an electric zzzing between her legs. His teeth grazed so lightly, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling at first. And then he swirled his tongue around her nipple again and sucked as he slipped his hand under her dress and squeezed her rounded cheek.

  Giselle unfastened his pants, freeing him. And then pulling her panties to one side, she sat down on his lap, straddling him with a raw gasp.

  All of her snaps gave way with one pull as he whisked her dress off. He held her slowly undulating hips and kissed every part of her that she offered him. Markus watched as Giselle gave herself over to pleasure with complete abandon. He ached with desire to move with her as she ground onto him, riding him, but he was afraid to break the spell.

  He held on to her until she came completely undone, her breathing ragged, and she shuddered to a stop. Markus felt no shame and allowed himself to finish with her. He felt right and glorious. After kicking off his shoes and pants, he stood up and carried her across the room to the bed. There he laid her down and pressed his body against her, not wanting this experience to end. They were kissing and nuzzling each other when Markus looked down and noticed the blood.

  “This is your monthly time?”

  She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

  “No. It’s my first time.”

  It took his breath away, and he stayed completely still for a moment. “What do you mean?” He ducked his head down to look into her eyes. “I do not understand.”

  She shook her head and made as if to say something, but then just puffed her cheeks out and shrugged.

  At that moment, the sound of tires crunching gravel came from outside not far from the stable house, and then car doors slammed, interrupting her chance to explain. A woman’s voice called in a cultured Italian accent, “Giselle! Come give me a hug! Put down your tools for the night!” In a lower tone the voice began issuing orders.

  Giselle raised herself magnificently up onto her hands and knees. “Oh, mon Dieu! My mother-in-law!” Like a lioness, she leapt, stripped off her askew panties, and skirting the multicolored partition wall, she ran to the oversized Moroccan tub. She began rinsing between her legs, water splashing across her stomach and pinkish water running down her thighs before running clear. “I’ve got to get up to the main house or Juliette will walk in here at any moment!”

  The contessa’s happy voice was growing closer. “Giselle! Do not make me wait!”

  Giselle hopped out
of the tub, dried quickly with a towel, ran across the room, shrugged into her dress, and started fastening her snaps.

  She looked at Markus, and smoothed her hair. “Do I look different? Do I look like I’m not a virgin?”

  “What?” Markus stared at her in disbelief. “I…I never thought you looked like a virgin.” Smiling, he ignored her activities and said slowly, “You look…like a woman…who is in love…with me.”

  She pulled on her shoes, fanned her face with her hands, and called as she ducked out the door, “Dinner is at eight!”

  Markus lay on the Moroccan blankets and closed his eyes. Did that just happen, or had he fallen asleep and had another of his wild dreams about her? He opened his eyes and smelled his hands. They smelled of her, but he’d been holding her all day. He got up, retrieved her towel from the chair where she’d tossed it, and went to take a shower as he gathered his thoughts. She was kidding about being a virgin. She had to just be embarrassed about having her time of the month. Right?

  When he turned off the gushing swan he heard more cars arrive outside and went to the window in time to see Henri and Fauve parking their Range Rover in the courtyard. Carolette was hanging on to her parked car while putting on a pair of dangerously high heels. She righted herself, swung her car door shut, and while rushing to catch up with someone out of sight, she reached down into her blouse and adjusted her boobs. This was going to be an interesting evening.

  Markus took his time dressing before making his way to the main house for dinner. He had a lot to think about, but in his gut he felt Giselle was his. Stepping into the grand dining room, he saw flickering candles on every available surface, and food and champagne arrayed on the formally set table. Lively conversation echoed in the regal stone and marble chamber, made comfortable by a roaring fire in the stately hearth. Apparently he’d arrived just in time for dinner, and his eyes sought out Giselle, who was being seated next to her mother-in-law at the table. She looked refreshed and had found time to change into a softly falling dress of Chinese red and smoky grey panels. She noticed his entrance and gave him a happy smile and a little nod. His heart raced just looking at her, and he returned her nod as he approached the table.

  “Ah! There he is.” Vincenzo came over to shake his hand and then walked him to Giselle’s end of the table. “Markus, this is Juliette, my mother. She tells me that she, too, has been hearing about you for weeks now. It would appear my wife has become obsessed with you.”

  Markus presented himself to Juliette and bowed. “Contessa, I am honored to meet you.”

  She made a minute gesture, and a servant responded by adjusting her chair, allowing her to stand gracefully and embrace him.

  “Please, you must not call me by that title—only Juliette. I have never heard Giselle so enthusiastic—positively enraptured by your talent since the day she first saw your work.”

  Vincenzo headed to the other side of the table and beckoned. “Markus, please come sit near me.”

  Feeling awkward, he followed the man whose wife he had just had sex with, and told himself to stay calm.

  Servants wearing crisp black-and-white uniforms attended to the dinner. They placed food before each guest and then retreated, leaving only two staff. One seemed to be for the general party, and one hovered discretely near the contessa.

  Fauve called down the table. “So nice of you to join us, Markus. I thought you were standing us up.”

  Markus smiled at her and raised his eyebrows in greeting.

  “Ah, there’s that lady-killer smile of his!” Solange prodded Carolette.

  “Juliette,” Fauve queried, “don’t you think Markus should have a wife?”

  “Of course.” The contessa looked at him appraisingly. “And a good catch for a young lady. Talented and handsome.”

  “Since I’m taken,” Fauve smiled, “I think that Giselle—”

  Giselle’s fork clattered to the polished stone floor, and all heads turned to look at her. She seemed unperturbed as she accepted another fork from the servant, coolly used it to spear a mushroom, and took a bite.

  Fauve continued, “Giselle should give Markus a night off so he can take Carolette out for dinner.”

  “Merci, Fauve.” Carolette grinned. “A girl could starve waiting for a man to become available.” She favored Markus with a flirty expression.

  Juliette nodded. “Gigi, you work too hard.”

  Henri, who was seated at Juliette’s left, asked, “What do you think of the mushrooms? They’re chanterelle in truffle crème, I believe. ”

  The server offered more of the dish. Accepting another helping with an aristocratic nod, the countess seemed utterly comfortable in her role as nobility.

  “Sì, this dish is superb, Henri. You must have more yourself.” She smiled warmly at him, and he blushed as another helping was spooned onto his plate. She turned to the table and raised her glass. “A toast to Markus. We thank you for keeping our Giselle safe while she works, and for helping her so much.”

  “Santé!” everyone echoed.

  Uncomfortable with the kind words and attention, Markus looked over his glass at Giselle. “This is my pleasure.”

  “She’s the most incredible woman,” Vincenzo commented. “Don’t you agree, Markus?”

  “She has no equal.” Markus saw the love in Vincenzo’s eyes and felt a stab of guilt.

  “No. No equal.” Vincenzo nodded in agreement and gazed at his radiant wife.

  After dinner, the party gathered in the salon to relax with coffee, sweets, fruits, and cheeses. Markus stood near the windows, bookended between Carolette and Henri. He could only feign interest in what they were saying as he watched Giselle’s graceful movements across the room. She was demonstrating something with her arms and hands that made her dress shimmer over her curves. He was reliving her determined pleasure as she straddled him on that chair, the taste of her mouth, her thighs wrapped around his hips as she rode him. It was all he could do not to cross the room, and throw her onto the couch that her husband was sitting on.

  Oh God! The image of Vincenzo sweeping Giselle into his arms and over his shoulder slammed into his mind, and he almost clamped his hands against his temples. No wonder Vincenzo did that to her. How could a man help it if he was allowed to take possession of Giselle like that?

  Carolette was giggling and hanging on his arm, while shaking her finger at Henri. He could see Henri was embarrassed for her, by how desperately she was seeking attention. When Laetitia called Carolette away, Henri remarked, “She’s a bit of a wild child, but she’s a really good person. The right husband could tame her.”

  Markus nodded distractedly.

  Fauve was lounging in front of Markus and Henri on a velvet sofa, and Juliette came to sit next to her. Fauve turned to Juliette and gushed, “We can’t thank you enough for allowing my parents to stay with you in Venice last month. I can’t imagine what you had to do to arrange their audience with the Pope!”

  Juliette nodded. “I was happy to do it. The Vatican and our family are the oldest of friends, since…well… forever.”

  “It was the highlight of their lives.”

  “They came back calling him Sua Santità.”

  “Sì, that is what Italians call the pope.”

  Vincenzo clinked his glass with a spoon and asked, “Now, who would like to see what Gigi is working on?” He beamed at her. “I know it’s late, but from what you just told me, the thing glows. We can see something tonight, can’t we?”

  Giselle nodded and stood up. “Oui, it’s in the early stages of assembly, but you’ll get the idea.”

  Juliette walked over to her daughter-in-law and gestured for her to lead the way. The group claimed sweaters at the front door as they streamed out into the chill evening air and across the courtyard. As they cleared the far side of the stable house, they saw the small pinkish stars glowing steadily in the dark. Everyone’s step quickened toward what looked like floating clusters of embers.

  “Oh, Gigi. It’s wo
nderful!” Vincenzo said.

  “Holy shit! Is that pink lava in glass?” burst Carolette.

  Giselle walked over to one of the metal struts and stroked it appreciatively. “This is Star Fall.”

  Markus watched Giselle with her family and friends drifting around the unfinished sculpture. She cautioned, “Don’t come too close. It isn’t safe to touch the stars.”

  Vincenzo and Juliette came together under the sculpture.

  “This looks like the pope’s drawings.” Juliette was staring in wonder. “Even the glowing halos.”

  “Sì, exactly like the dream.”

  Markus found their comments puzzling. What dream were they talking about?

  “Gigi, this is the size of a house!” came Juliette’s awed voice. “How did you construct it?”

  Giselle walked over to Markus, and put her hand on his shoulder. “We used a crane for the big materials, and for the rest, I climb Markus.”

  “Did you hear that, Carolette?” Solange gestured toward Markus with her drink. “He’s slim, but he’s sturdy.”

  “Not to interfere with your art process darling, but we can afford scaffolds.” Vincenzo gave an indulgent shake of his head.

  Intensely aroused by the scent of Giselle and the warmth of her hand on him, Markus enjoyed watching the shadows play across her face in the rosy light of the sculpture.

  After giving everyone a few more minutes to appreciate the beginnings of the sculpture, Giselle announced that she was getting cold and asked that they all return to the house to finish dessert. Still uttering “oohs” and “ahs,” the group returned to the house. Markus noticed that Vincenzo and Juliette stayed behind, and that Vincenzo was taking photos of Star Fall with his phone.

  CHAPTER

  9

  The ultimate Italian mother, Juliette was already working in the kitchen as everyone in the château was waking up. It had been a fun party last night with everyone joining in a marathon of board games and charades that lasted until the wee hours of the morning before everyone found a bed to fall into. Even her secretary had joined in the activities after she’d completed her duties. As Juliette assembled ingredients for breakfast, she heard the boys on the stairs. She had just poured some fresh stovetop espresso into her cup as Auguste, Robert, and Fabrice entered the kitchen.

 

‹ Prev