by Doyle, S.
Totally not how I thought this night would end. But there was something about Ted’s breathing, slowly in and out, that made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world. Even the nights I spent with Jared that had never really happened.
If I was honest with myself, I liked it.
6
On the Train to Florence
Beth
I looked out the window at the scenery running by, and tried not to feel…what?
I couldn’t tell if I was furious, hurt or sad?
I woke up alone this morning. No note, no goodbye. Nothing.
I had no idea what Ted’s plans were, whether or not I would ever see him again. At the very least, I deserved a thank you for letting him crash in my room instead of calling hotel security, which is probably what I should have done.
It was so supremely stupid. I’d known him for only a day and somewhere in that time, he’d gotten the power to piss me off. And not only that, but he mostly likely cost me what would have been amazing sex with a hot guy, that I could remember forever!
Or not. Because I was pretty sure I was going to chicken out on Ivan. But Ted didn’t know that!
Jerk.
Asshole.
Someone dropped into the seat next to me. Why, I had no idea, because the train was, for the most part, empty now, the middle of the morning on a Tuesday. I turned to offer a general smile and froze when I realized it was Ted.
“What the fuck?” I barked.
He beamed at me. “You didn’t think I was going to leave you without apologizing profusely for getting drunk and passing out in your bed, did you?”
“You were gone this morning! No note, no nothing. How did you even know what train I would be on?”
He shrugged. “Sorry about that, too. I had things I had to take care of. But I knew you were going to Florence. I’m headed there, too. How about that for coincidences? And this seemed like the most logical train for you to take.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re going to Florence?”
“Hello? Obviously. I want to see the big, naked guy. Wow, I’m going to have to learn to say that quieter.”
“You didn’t say anything about that yesterday.”
“Neither did you, until last night.”
“You were so drunk, I’m surprised you even remembered.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if I remembered or not, because I was planning on going to Florence today anyway. We probably would have run into each other.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? Two people who happen to be in the same city and we would have just run into each other? I doubt it.”
“Trust me. We’re both going to see all the same things. There’s this huge piazza with this crazy church. We totally would have run into each other there.”
“You’ve been there before? You gave me the impression this was your first trip out of the country.”
“It is. I’m going off the pictures and the fact that as tourists we’re most likely to do the same tourist things.”
Nope. I wasn’t buying it. “You know what I think? I think you heard me say I was going to Florence and you changed your plans so you could follow me. Because you had a good time with me yesterday.”
He looked at me then, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. “And what if I cop to that? Would you get weird about it?”
I shifted in my seat. I guess not. We did have fun together in Venice. He obviously wasn’t any kind of threat to me given that we shared a bed and he didn’t once try to cop a feel. While he wasn’t exactly the model I might have selected to take book- worthy pictures with, we sort of looked good together.
Still, I had my pride. “You shouldn’t have bailed this morning without a note. That was not cool.”
“Not cool was passing out in your bed, Beth. But I promise I won’t do that again. Leave you without letting you know.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. If you want to see the big naked guy, we can do that together. We’ll need to arrange things, though, since we’re probably not staying at the same hotel.”
“I’m staying at the Hilton,” he said.
“Me, too,” I said, my eyes narrowing. That couldn’t have been a coincidence, but how would he know where I was staying? I didn’t say anything about that last night.
“See?” He lifted his hands. “Great minds think alike.”
“Just make sure you find your way to your own room tonight.”
He smiled cheekily and it was hard to stay mad at him. “Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s called The David by the way.”
“Yep, know that, too. Now if you don’t mind, I’m still a wee bit hungover from last night so I’m going to close my eyes and rest up for our afternoon together.”
I didn’t say anything, just watched him tilt his head back on the seat, his Adam’s apple a prominent feature on his throat. Actually, it was a really nice neck in general. I sort of had this weird compulsion to lean over and bite it. Right at the base where it met his collar bone.
I closed my eyes and had to shake off that feeling.
This was safe Ted. He probably didn’t even like having his neck bitten.
* * *
Piazza della Signoria
Florence
“I can’t believe how small his dick was. That has to mean Michelangelo had a small dick, right?”
I glared at Ted even as I watched him dig into his shrimp scampi. “Are you kidding me right now? We just saw one of the most remarkable pieces of art ever created and you’re talking about the dick on the statue.”
Ted shook his head. “I’m telling you, no guy who is hung is going to create a naked statue with a tiny dick.”
“It’s David!” I argued. “From the story of David and Goliath. He’s supposed to be small.”
Ted shook his head as he bit into his shrimp and did that thing where he closed his eyes while chewing. Only when he was done did he point his fork in my direction.
“Trust me. I know guys and I know how we feel about our dicks. Michelangelo had a tiny pecker, and because he did, he carved this great work of art with an even smaller one. Why? So when people saw Michelangelo’s dick, they would think it was actually impressive.”
I leaned back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest as if I, Beth Ryan, was responsible for defending Michelangelo’s penis size.
“Hmm. Seems to me you also might be a little fixated on size.”
His eyebrows shot up and I had to stop myself from laughing. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. Just that maybe it takes a small-dick guy to appreciate the mind set of another small-dick guy.”
Instantly, he stood and reached for the button at his jeans. “Okay, gauntlet thrown. I’m going to show you my big dick right now, in this restaurant.”
“Ted!” I hissed when he actually got as far as unzipping his jeans. “I’m serious! You’re embarrassing us. We look like crazy Americans.”
“Crazy, fucking American with a big-ass dick!”
“Ted!” I squeaked. “I will kill you if you get us thrown out of here!”
Finally, he chuckled and zipped and buttoned his jeans. Taking his seat and digging into his shrimp as if he hadn’t almost gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure.
“You’re insane,” I told him.
“Challenge a man’s dick size and you suffer the consequences,” he said. “Want some of my shrimp?”
I did. I took my fork and stabbed his plate. It was garlicky and salty and delicious. I’d left over half my pasta carbonara on the plate, so I pulled some of it together on the bread plate and pushed it in his direction.
He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Your dainty appetite is totally working in my favor. Have you always eaten like this?”
I shook my head. As a kid I always had an empty stomach. I would stay at the diner after school while my mom worked her shift and eat everything and anything anyone wanted to feed me. That w
as before it all went to shit, though.
“No, it was because I was… I was…homeless for over a year. Food was scarce and I learned to do without. Now, too much, like I said, just drags me down.”
I lifted my chin in defiance, waiting to see how he would react. Yesterday, I didn’t want to tell him any of this. But sitting outside on a beautiful night, in this piazza, eating incredible Italian food, I felt… I don’t know. Open or something. Connected to Ted in a way I hadn’t been connected to someone in a long time. Not even my boyfriend.
It felt safe to talk about my past, but the reality was, it was a total mood crusher.
Slowly, he put his knife and fork down. As if almost purposefully trying not to react. “Homeless, huh? You said you were tight with your mother.”
I shrugged. “I was. We were. Before she became a meth-head who liked to turn tricks for her fix. I took off just after I turned seventeen. It took some time before I finally landed some place. Now I’m a blogger who owns my own condo. Can you believe it?”
He remained serious. And when he looked at me like that, it was as if I was with someone different.
Ted the man, as opposed to Ted the guy. Someone not safe; his intensity felt a little dangerous.
“Yeah. I can. You’re a scrapper, Beth. You scream cute kitten on the outside, but I bet if you were cornered, your claws would be sharp and a little deadly.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about cute kitten, but scrappy made me feel stronger than being a slightly agoraphobic chick, so I was okay with it.
“Anyway, it’s why I don’t trust people. Easily anyway. If it makes you feel good to know, you’re sort of an exception to the rule.”
He picked up his fork and spoon and twirled the pasta I’d given him like he knew what he was doing. “What about The Douchebag? You must have trusted him if you were going to bang him.”
I frowned. “That was more of an exercise. To push myself out of my comfort zone. Do you want to know a horrible secret?”
He nodded slowly.
“This is my first time outside the country.”
He blinked as it started to dawn on him. “You’ve written about places around the world. Written about them in a way that made me feel like I was there. How is that possible?”
I shrugged. “I’m good with words, I guess. Combined with an imagination. Anyway, to do this book deal, I had to make it real. I had to actually come and see places for myself. I wasn’t sure I could do it, but here I am. And I’ve got the pictures to prove it. And seeing The David…there’s no picture that can match the actual experience. I need to remember that when I write about it. I need to start convincing my readers to not just read about places around the world, but to go see them.”
He seemed pensive.
“Did I kill the mood?” I asked, wincing.
“No, I just… Fuck, I like you, Beth.”
“I like you, too, Ted. This has been fun.” Maybe not sexy fun, but fun.
I heard the music start in the center of the piazza. There was a group of people playing some guitars on the edge of the water fountain. One woman was singing in Italian. People started to gather around and some coupled up and began to dance to what was obviously a love song.
“Let’s dance,” Ted suggested.
“I really can’t.” Especially not a slow dance.
“I’ll show you, it’s easy.”
“No, really, I’ll embarrass myself.”
He stood, clearly undeterred, and held his hand out. “My guess is you never got to go to prom. Let me be your prom date and I’ll show you how to dance. You’re supposed to be experiencing everything, remember? Dancing in a piazza in Florence under the stars will make a fuck-all chapter.”
I smiled because it would. “Are we okay leaving our stuff here?”
But Ted was already signaling to the waiter exactly what we were doing. We walked closer to where the singer was still crooning, then Ted pulled me into his arms. One hand on my waist, his other hand clasping mine to his shoulder. He started to sway to the beat of the music.
“See. Simple. We’re dancing,” he said.
I looked up at him and smiled. This was nice. This was easy. He was holding my hand in his so I couldn’t pull away, but if I could, I might have traced the fuzz that was now growing around his jaw. Or run my finger along the shell of his ear, which really wasn’t all that big now that I knew him.
He bent his head toward mine so that our lips were close. I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me. I didn’t know if I wanted him to, but I didn’t pull away.
“Your nose ring is glinting in the moonlight,” he said softly and made me chuckle.
That’s right. No kissing for us. Suddenly, what had seemed fun felt a little deflating. He really was not into me and it was probably best not to get suckered by dancing stars and moonlight. I started to pull away. “Okay, this was fun, but let’s go back to the hotel for a nightcap. There is an amazing rooftop bar that’s supposed to have epic views.”
For a second, he seemed reluctant to let go of me. His grip on my waist tightened. But then he dropped his hands and took a step back. “Sure. That sounds good.”
Together, we walked back to our table and signaled the waiter. The check came and Ted picked it up before I could reach for it.
“My treat,” he said.
That pissed me off, and I glared at him. “I don’t want or need your pity, Ted.”
“Good, because you don’t have it. I owe you for being an asshole last night. This is just my way of making it up to you.”
“You were an asshole. And a cock blocker,” I reminded him.
Ted snorted. “You were lucky I was there. I promise you that guy would have been a dud in the sack. Sounds like you weren’t all that into him anyway.”
“He said I was unique like a snowflake,” I told him even as my lips twitched.
Ted rolled his eyes. “Oh my God! Like there isn’t enough fucking cheese in this country.”
I laughed and excused myself. “I’m going to hit the restroom before we walk back.”
“Yep. I’ll meet you outside then.”
I headed inside the restaurant, asking the maître d’ where the bathrooms were. Unfortunately, it was down a creepy, old stairwell that looked like it narrowed into some kind of cellar with a door at the end of the hallway. The door probably led to backstairs that emptied behind the restaurant.
The bathroom was unisex, a thing in Europe apparently, and thankfully not occupied. I did my business and washed my hands. And when I exited the door, I could feel the presence of someone behind me.
Instinctively, I went on alert. Mostly likely it was just another customer needing to use the bathroom, but you couldn’t tell that to the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Beth…fancy meeting you here.”
I turned at the sound of my name. The accent familiar. It was dark in the hallway; I could see the figure of a man but not his face. The accent however was unmistakable.
“Ivan?”
“Fate, it seems, has brought us together again.”
No way. This was too crazy. “This can’t be a coincidence.”
He stepped out of the shadows then, and I could make out the sinister smile on his face and the small black device he was holding in his hand. With a quick jab he tapped my ribs. I felt the shock, then quickly everything went black.
* * *
Liam
This was taking too long. Of course, there could have been a queue for the facilities, but I didn’t like it. I should have never let her out of my sight. There was no chance The Douchebag wasn’t here somewhere, although I hadn’t gotten one of his ridiculous texts lately. Still, she’d told him where she was going last night.
Both of us were playing this cat-and-mouse game, but the truth was it wasn’t really our style. We both liked to strike first and ask questions later.
This time, however, I wanted to wait and build a sense of trust between me and Beth. It was highly unlikely
Ivan gave a shit about that.
I knew the bathroom was inside and downstairs. I also knew there was a back door to the place that led to the alley behind the restaurant. If The Douchebag was going to act, that would be his move.
Shit. It would have been my move, too, if I hadn’t been thinking about how much I liked the damn target.
I took off down the street and found the alley. Sure enough, I found a guy in a dark suit with a man bun, who happened to have a woman draped over his shoulder, walking quickly in the opposite direction.
“Put her down, Douchebag.” I pulled the gun from my ankle harness and aimed it at his feet.
With a silencer on my Glock, he didn’t hear the shot, but jumped when the bullet nearly hit his foot. He knew that shot was only to get his attention and that my next one would take out his knee.
Slowly, he turned around, his hands in the air where I could see them, Beth still draped over his shoulder.
“Let’s be reasonable about this,” he said with a simpering smile. “We both want the same thing. Why not work together to get the information we need, and then whoever gets to her father first wins.”
“She doesn’t know where he is. She doesn’t even realize he knows she exists. We’re both wasting our time.”
“If you believe that, then you won’t mind if I ask her a few simple questions.”
I rolled my eyes. “You mean you’re going to torture her to get answers. I can’t let that happen.”
The Douchebag looked perplexed. “Why not? This is the business we are in. You know this, my friend.”
I sighed. “I sort of…kind of…like her.”
The Douchebag thought that was hysterically funny. “You. Like. Her. You know what she is. She’s the target. You don’t like the target. You kill the target. You use the target. You fuck the target. You torture the target,” he explained. “All this becomes difficult if you actually like the target.”
Yeah, I knew that. Which was why, as a general rule, I didn’t do the getting-to-know-people thing.
