Stealing Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  He looked down at the mess around Scortini’s hips. “I’ve never seen it loosen anyone’s bowels before. It was probably the fourth dose that caused such a thorough evacuation.” Gio turned away, climbed back up the stairs, walked out the door, and locked it securely behind him with a satisfied smile. There were fates worse than death for a megalomaniac.

  CHAPTER

  15

  The sun peeked over the Ardennes forest and through the bedroom curtains onto Giselle’s face. She blinked her eyes open and looked around for Markus. He was still fast asleep beside her, his skin glowing honey-gold against the pale sheets. Snuggling naked beneath the bedding, she felt more than excited, more than content, more than happy. Sometimes it felt like he was a dream, she would awaken from, and V would come walking barefoot into her room with coffee and his usual morning chatter. But that had been her old life, everything was different now. She felt reborn, but at times overwhelmed by her feelings for Markus. He was always on her mind, and she constantly craved his touch. So this was love?

  Usually Markus woke up before her, so she took this rare opportunity to admire him the way her friends did. When he was awake, he had no patience when he caught her staring. She lifted the sheet to peek at his naked body. It was sleek, muscular perfection, very different from the way she and V were built. He had a light trail of soft blondish-brown hair down his lower stomach that drove her wild. God, if V looked like this, she would have gone out of her mind!

  Recalling her first encounter with Markus in the Metro station, she remembered the way her stomach dropped when he put his arm around her. Inexplicably she wanted to kiss him right then as he was handcuffed to the railing. When he’d looked into her eyes, it felt like she’d been pushed over a waterfall. She wanted to have him look at her now. She snuggled close to him and bent low over his chest. Watching his peaceful face, she circled her tongue around one of his nipples. His long brown eyelashes fluttered, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Making an inquiring moan, he reached for her and they reveled in each other until it was time to start their day.

  By the time Selma arrived at the house with the maids to prepare for Giselle’s departure, Markus was back in the stable house workshop packing up the last of his tools. Her friends arrived mid-morning, and now that Star Fall was safely enclosed in the new shed, she was able to enjoy the day eating, playing cards, and whacking croquet balls. As twilight approached, the last of her friends had departed, Selma went off to release the dogs, and Veronique arrived to take up residence in the château. She spoke with Veronique, then went up to change into a blue sheath dress and cream-and-gold peep-toe pumps. She locked the big front door and walked down the steps. Markus had pulled the Tank around, so she climbed behind the wheel, and he hopped in beside her asking, “Does Selma also stay in the château while you are away?”

  “No, she stays at their house down the lane.”

  “Veronique can handle this place by herself?”

  “Absolutely, she’s completely capable and loves the routine. I’m sure right now she’s in the kitchen making a cup of tea, then she’ll go back to her little apartment behind the Moroccan room.”

  “She must be a solitary woman.”

  “That’s a good way to describe her. She loves living in the château by herself for extended periods of time. She even knows how to repair the old gas boiler if needed.”

  On the train back to Paris, Vincenzo called to check in.

  “Alo, Gigi. I wanted to let you know that everything’s fine here in Venice. But we don’t know where Salvio is.”

  Giselle was careful not to say anything specific about Salvio in case his spy was sitting near them on the train. “Oh? Could he be in Paris?”

  “We don’t know. But we heard from Cardinal Negrali that Salvio’s been kidnapped.”

  Giselle’s mouth dropped open, and Markus leaned forward. Their eyes swept the train as she tried to sound casual. “Oh, really? Hmmm. Well, that’s unexpected if it’s true.”

  “Sì, Gigi. And I believe it’s true. It’s just that we have no proof.”

  “Mmm, oui.” Giselle tried to look bored, so she made a show of studying her nails. “Hard for us to prove, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Right. No one who abducts a person provides the public with proof of their captive.”

  “From what you say, it’s hard to imagine anyone wanting him.”

  “You’ve never met him, but you’re right, it’s hard for me to imagine anyone wanting Salvio Scortini.”

  Giselle smiled, and Markus relaxed visibly.

  “Gigi, since we still don’t know what’s going on, I’d feel better if you didn’t go back to our house in Paris tonight. Is there somewhere else you can stay? Someplace no one would think to look for you? Maybe we can arrange for you to stay with Efran?”

  Giselle’s mouth dropped open. “The Louvre curator? Why?”

  He sounded pained. “I don’t know. He’s our dear friend, and he keeps the Louvre’s paintings safe. Maybe he can safeguard you until we can be sure no one is following you.”

  “You’re crazy!” Giselle laughed. “I’m not a painting.”

  “Well, Gigi, I just want you safe.” He sounded tired. “We hope to learn more about Salvio’s whereabouts, but until we do, try to stay out of sight.”

  Giselle had an idea, and she whispered into the phone. “I’ve just thought of the perfect place. I’ll stay with Markus and his friends. Their building is a small fortress, and I don’t imagine I’ve ever been followed there.”

  “Okay. That makes sense…all right.”

  Markus looked pleased at the prospect, and he gave her a sexy smile.

  She glanced around the train car again. “I’ll call you when we’re settled.”

  “Okay. And don’t forget, father hopes to get your housing designs soon.”

  “I’ll have them ready tomorrow.”

  “We’ll send a courier for them. Just text me the address.”

  “Will do.”

  “I miss you…” Vincenzo’s voice became small. “…very much…I wish you’d come to Venice so we could talk about…everything…but I know I’ve taken too much of you already…and you want time with…to...”

  “Oh, V, I miss you too. But, ouais, I want time with him. Everyone will understand us being apart for a while. You have work to do, and you can tell them I’m planning a new sculpture. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  She disconnected the call and looked up at Markus, who was smiling a lazy smile of contentment. “Happy?”

  “I am. I was picturing you in some of my clothes tomorrow morning. I think I will like seeing you wear one of my shirts.”

  “Oh, right. I don’t have any clothes.”

  “Mmm, I like this plan.”

  “Well, I’m not wandering around Ivar and Yvania’s home in one of your shirts.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I can dream.”

  “If Salvio’s spy is watching my home in Paris, I don’t want Marcella to bring me anything from there. She could be followed.” She called her favorite personal shopper and, as always, Henriette answered breathlessly. “Alo, Giselle, what can I get you?”

  “Alo, Hen. I’m going to be staying with friends for a bit, and I need you to get me a week’s worth of clothes and toiletries.”

  “Cool! When do you need ‘em?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning, please.”

  “I’m on it. I’m staring at three racks of the new Cacharel collection, and about ten pieces in particular that are simply made for you! I’ll swing by Au Printemps to get you everything else. I’m working on a window display there tonight, and I’ll ask the manager to put everything on your account. Just text me where to have everything delivered.”

  “You’re a doll.”

  “No, you’re the doll that I love to dress. Kisses to Vincenzo.”

  Giselle popped up a message window and handed her phone to Markus, who entered the Czerney’s address and hit send. “Do
not think I will forget my dream.” He handed the phone back to her.

  “When we have our own place, I’ll be happy to wear your shirts.”

  “Mmm, will you do that dance I saw you doing, the one with your arms up over your head?”

  “Of course.”

  He started to get that dangerously sexy look in his eye and then glanced self-consciously around the crowded train car. “We should change the subject or I will need a cold shower, and I do not think this train has one.” For the rest of the journey, they made sure they kept alert for Salvio’s spy.

  When they arrived in Paris, Giselle followed Markus’ lead and slipped off the train in the middle of a stream of passengers. They made a quick stop at the porter’s station to claim his wooden box, and then continued on with the crowd. Nearing the taxi area, Markus tucked her behind a crepe stand and asked her to wait there in the shadows while he signaled for a taxi. The first car in line at the curb zipped up to him and stopped. He motioned for the driver pop the trunk, quickly stowed his things, opened the back door, and then signaled her to join him. She hustled over and dove into the cab with Markus right behind her. She tried not to act paranoid, but couldn’t help scanning the nearby cars as he gave the address and the taxi merged into traffic. She felt the driver’s eyes studying her face in the rear view mirror every chance he could safely ignore the road ahead. Finally he got to his question.

  “You’re Giselle, aren’t you?”

  “Oui,” she answered politely. Ah, here we go…

  “L'artiste dangereuse!” His face lit up.

  “Ah, oui. C’est moi.”

  “My brother has a little gallerie off Place des Vosages. This man is not the Italian count. Not your husband.” He tipped his head to indicate Markus, with a completely undeserved look of disapproval on his face.

  “No, he’s an artist I’m working with.” In an effort to end the exchange, she picked up her phone and pretended to check messages. She could feel Markus watching her.

  He said quietly, “I can see you putting on your mental coat of armor.”

  She whispered, almost to herself, “Paris is very different from Gernelle.”

  “So you change with the geography?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I change with the expectations.”

  “You may not want to do that forever. It could make you forget who you really are.”

  It was an uneventful ride. No one appeared to be following them, and none of the nearby cars slowed as their taxi turned down the Czerney’s quiet street. When they arrived at the little brick building, Markus paid the driver, got out first, and took his things from the trunk over to the door of the building. Then he looked around the empty street, and came back to take her hand. The driver pulled away with a wave that left Giselle feeling uncertain.

  “Markus, what are the odds that Salvio’s spy would contact the taxi companies in Paris?”

  “The odds of him finding that taxi driver is very small.”

  As they approached the door he said, “Gigi, I will not lie to Ivar and Yvania. They are family, and we can trust them with our secrets. I will not share what Vincenzo has asked me to protect with anyone except these two people.”

  “You’re right, I know we can trust them. I don’t want to lie either. Oh boy, this will be quite a surprise. They don’t have heart trouble do they?”

  “No, they are both as healthy as horses.” Markus unlocked the factory door and followed her inside with his luggage. “But I will be ready to grab Ivar’s walker.” As he closed and locked the door, Markus called out, “Ivar, Yvania! I am home! Giselle is here too. I am sorry it is late.”

  “Ah, Markus! We are coming. Is everything okay?” Ivar’s voice answered from upstairs.

  “Da, everything is good.”

  The couple came down the stairs, bundled in robes and cozy slippers. Without her clogs, Yvania was the size of a child. Ivar let go of the handrail and brushed past the walker that stood waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He beamed when he caught sight of Giselle, and tipped his head to her in a silent question.

  Oh, he knows something’s up. She gave him a smile.

  Yvania fanned her face as if she was having a hot flash. “Oh! Giselle! Look! Here I must be frightening you with how I am looking!” She passed her hand over her hairnet and headed straight for Markus, who bent over to receive her motherly hug. Then pulling back from giving him a squeeze, she gave him a stern look. “Ach! What? You cannot call for me to making the readiness?” She reached around and pinched him on the back of his upper arm.

  “Ow!” He moved away and rubbed the spot vigorously. “Ow! I am sorry Yvania. We just decided to come here at the last minute.”

  Ivar opened his arms to Giselle. “I am happy to see you, my dear.”

  Yvania pulled her robe tighter about her midsection and came forward to hug Giselle. “Da, we are happy to see you.”

  Giselle was glad to be back with the Czerneys again, especially now that they were going to be her family. “We’re sorry for coming so late. We should have called, but we’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  “Come.” Ivar gestured toward the kitchen and took hold of his walker. “Tell us of your work in the country. How is the big sculpture coming?”

  Yvania bustled ahead of them, flicked on the overhead light, and headed for the refrigerator. “I have just made some kompot today, of fresh apples and cherries. Now we drink a leetle bit of sipping.” She retrieved a pitcher of pink juice and picked up a small tray already set with old-fashioned cordial glasses.

  As they settled around the table, Markus began. “We have a lot to tell you, and it is not all about the sculpture.”

  “Da.” Ivar raised his brows and looked from Giselle to Markus. “I can see that it is both good and bad.”

  “I see this, too.” Yvania poured juice into the dainty glasses and sat down. “Always start with good news.”

  “Okay, good news first.” Markus cleared his throat. “Please swallow your drink, Ivar.”

  Ivar had just taken a sip of his juice, so he swallowed it and set his glass on the table. “You do not want to get the spray of kompot in the face, eh?”

  Giselle found herself tense. What if they didn’t approve of her? What if they liked her fine as a friend, but felt she wasn't good enough for him?

  Markus took a breath and let it out. “I have found the woman I am going to marry.”

  “Congratulations!” Yvania clasped her hands to her bosom.

  “That is good news.” Ivar smiled and searched Giselle’s face. “When are we meeting her?”

  “It is Giselle.” Markus put his arm around her.

  Ivar gave her a knowing look, and then his brows knit in worry.

  Giselle’s breath caught. Oh no, he doesn’t approve! Well, that’s just because he doesn’t know the whole story. He thinks I’m cuckolding Vincenzo…or that Markus is a home wrecker.

  “What has fall on your head?” Yvania jerked upright and her arms flew about gesturing dramatically. “She has the beautiful husband!”

  “I think I can see the bad news.” Ivar looked from her to Markus and back again. “I will go get the horilka, and you tell us the whole story over proper Ukrainian vodka.”

  “What is the joke?” Yvania slapped both her own cheeks as if she might faint. “I do not understand this joke.”

  It took forty minutes to fill them in on what had transpired, and to Giselle’s relief she saw acceptance in their expressions.

  Yvania had been leaning forward on her elbows with rapt attention, hanging on every word of Markus’ explanation. When he was done, she sat up and smoothed her hands over her robe coquettishly. “I am so happy for you both, but this poor Carolette! Her embarrassment has helped you so much.”

  Ivar looked at them with a thoughtful expression. “I could see the attraction between you from your first afternoon together, and so I am not surprised that you have come together in this way.”

  “It sounds like th
ere’s a ‘however’ you’re about to add, Ivar,” Giselle said quietly.

  “It is late. Let us continue this talk in the morning.” Ivar patted his wife’s hand.

  Yvania was in a daze as she took their glasses over to the sink. She was struggling to process Markus’ encounter with the Pope, Vincenzo being a homosexual, and Markus’ plan to marry the famous and daring artist whose photo was everywhere! A million thoughts whirled in her head as Ivar appeared beside her and placed the rinsed glasses over the draining board.

  Giselle stood up and said, “It’s late. I should call Vincenzo to let him know we’ve settled in. I don’t want him to worry.”

  Yvania didn’t know why that sounded so bizarre to her. The idea of the lovers wanting to call the husband felt crazy, even though he was not…well…it took some getting used to! She turned to comment, but Ivar employed her pinching technique and she bit her lip instead.

  As Markus led Giselle down the hall, he called over his shoulder, “Good night. It is good to be back with you again.”

  Yvania rubbed her arm as she followed Ivar down the hall to the stairs. “Our Markus finds himself mixed up with an angel, the Pope, and a Venetian devil. The world has gone sideways! But at least he has found a wife.”

  “Come, my dear…” He set his walker aside, took hold of the handrail and climbed the stairs. “I do not think Markus has found his wife.”

  “You think she is only playing with him?”

  “No, I can see that she loves him, but I think chances are very good that she will continue protecting her husband, and break Markus’ heart.”

  “I hope you are wrong.”

  “Come, that vodka has made us both drowsy.”

  Arriving at their bedroom door she lamented, “That poor Carolette!”

  Ivar yawned, “I am very interested to get a look at Vincenzo’s lover, Leonardo.”