I looked at this woman and what she offered. The road less taken. There was something about Alice Blackwell that was dangerous to me. I could lose myself in this woman. No, that wasn’t quite right. I’d asked Antonio to protect her. I’d approached her today, breaking a rule I’d held for over fifteen years. I’d already lost myself in this woman, and I was more than okay with that. Alice Blackwell was fire itself, burning hot and bright, and I was a moth, drawn happily to her flame.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” I said. “And I’ll tell you the story.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and I saw the walls come up again. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said. Her voice sounded polite and distant. What the fuck just happened there? “I’m not looking to get involved.”
I laughed out aloud at that. Who was she kidding? Everything in her body screamed for me to touch her and to hold her close. “That’s a lie, gattina,” I responded. “What’s the truth?”
“You are fucking arrogant, you know that?” she hissed at me.
I grinned. “I do know, yes. But I can tell when a woman’s lying to me, and right now, Alice, nothing in your body is telling me to go away.”
She rose to her feet, fire flashing in her eyes. “I’m leaving,” she announced.
“I’ll walk you home,” I said.
She shook her head. “That isn’t necessary,” she replied. “Thank you, Enzo.”
Ah, I was to be dismissed with that polite, high-society tone. I rolled my eyes. It might have worked had she not cuddled into my body like a sated kitten. She hadn’t even realized she’d been touching me, running her fingers up and down my body. It might have worked had she not lingered there, clearly reluctant to leave.
But she did all those things, and I wanted her and I could tell she wanted me.
Layers upon layers, Alice Blackwell. I grinned. I couldn’t wait to peel each one back and taste the sweetness underneath.
“I’ll see you next Friday at the club, gattina.”
“I should throw something at you,” she retorted, and then she grinned at me while the fire still danced in her eyes. “See you Friday.”
I laughed out aloud again.
Layers upon layers, Alice Blackwell.
***
Alice:
He had pulled me into his body, and held me close after the sex. I wanted to nestle against him, but I refrained as best as I could. I knew enough about BDSM to know this was just aftercare, something all responsible Dominants did.
Then he asked me to have dinner with him, and the memory of the letters had come surging back, and I had steadied my voice and declined. And he’d flat-out laughed at me.
Oh, I was annoyed with Enzo Peron.
Yet Friday couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 9
Enzo:
I watched her leave. Though she wouldn’t be unprotected and I knew Antonio’s guards would be following her, it still bothered me to let her walk back to her apartment all alone.
But there was a person I wanted to talk to, a regular at Casanova. Luigi Costa, the editor of La Nuova Venezia. After that article in today’s paper, I wanted answers.
I honestly didn’t think Luigi had anything to do with the break-in attempt at Alice’s apartment. The two of us had teamed up and topped women a few times in the past, and I thought I knew the man. I would have sworn he wasn’t about to hire someone to break into Alice’s apartment. But Alice was very, very rich, and money made fools of us all.
I found Luigi at the bar and I walked up to him, inclining my head in greeting. “Can we chat?” I asked him.
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, then nodded. We moved to a secluded corner.
“What can I do for you, Enzo?” Luigi asked me.
“Tell me about Alice Blackwell,” I suggested.
He looked puzzled. “The American heiress?” he asked. “We wrote an article about her today. You know she is going to open a bakery at the Piazza San Marco?”
I nodded, feeling uncertainty rise in me. I’d seen several guilty men in my line of work; Luigi wasn’t one of them. But someone had definitely been trying to break into Alice’s apartment.
Luigi eyed me closely. “Is that a problem?”
Technically, there were two possible answers. The logical answer was ‘No. That’s not a problem.’ Because it sure as hell didn’t concern me if Luigi wrote about Alice. Writing an article wasn’t breaking the law.
My answer wasn’t logical at all. When I spoke, my voice was hard. “I’d prefer not to see her written about in the tabloids again,” I said. I gave Luigi a steady, even look. One that said that while on the surface, my request was from one friend to another, if he crossed me, there would be consequences.
He got it. For a second, his eyes hardened as well, then he took a deep breath and relaxed. “Inspector,” he replied, his lips curling into a smile. “You don’t have to threaten me, you know. You just had to ask. We’ve shared women. I consider you a friend.”
That shut me up. The circumstances in which I’d grown up made trust difficult. There were only two people in the world who were in my inner circle – Antonio and Tatiana; everyone else was kept at arms’ length. And sometimes, the realization that most people were inherently good was brought to my attention rather forcibly, and I felt ashamed of myself.
“Sorry,” I looked at him with a sigh. “One becomes rather cynical in my line of work.”
He laughed. “Indeed, and in my line of work as well.” I stuck around and bought him a drink to further apologize. We ended up getting quite drunk together.
Chapter 10
Alice:
All I wanted to do Sunday was lie in bed and think warm, fuzzy, thoughts about Enzo. But the phone kept ringing all day, as if having sex with a near-stranger at a BDSM club had suddenly made me popular.
Nate Caldwell, the administrator of the trust Ian had set up called me to go over some details. He was as polite and distant as he usually was. Then my lawyer Jeremy Reinhart called, and he was considerably friendlier. He was also concerned at the break-in attempt into my apartment, and urged me to either move somewhere safer, or move back to Houston. “You do have people that care about you here, Alice,” he said gently, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. In Houston, I’d always felt isolated and alone, with only Ian and Paula to cling to. Perhaps I’d been wrong.
Paula called late at night, as I knew she would. I had told her I was going to Casanova over the weekend, and I knew she’d want a play-by-play of my time there. I grinned inwardly. Perhaps it was silly of me, but I was happy to oblige. I wanted to squeal and gush over Enzo. For a few minutes, I wanted to forget the anonymous, threatening letters and my inability to involve anyone in my life. All I wanted to do was pretend that I was just a woman interested in a man.
Sure enough, her opening words were about Casanova. “Did you do it?” she asked me directly.
“I did,” I said, trying to keep my voice mysterious.
“And?” she squealed. “Alice, I swear, if you hold out on me, I will fly to Venice and kick your ass.”
“Okay, okay,” I relented, laughing. “But you are never going to believe what happened.” I filled her in on the pertinent details, my spanking, Enzo, the sex. I left out details of the break-in though. I didn’t want to kill the mood with her concern.
“Did he give you a safe word?” she asked bluntly, and I nodded. “Of course,” I said. “I’m not an idiot, you’ve coached me enough about what I should expect.”
“Talking about idiots, I ran into Jeremy Reinhart today,” she said. “He said something about you having a break-in. What’s going on?”
I reminded myself to have a little conversation with Jeremy about lawyer-client confidentiality. But I filled her in. “Don’t worry,” I added.
She laughed. “I’m not worrying, Alice, I know you can take care of yourself. Only Jeremy seems to think you are some precious breakable doll.”
“Ugh,” I said dryly, and she
laughed again. “So, you seeing this guy again? And do you want to see him outside the club?” she asked me.
I wasn’t going to let myself think about the way I’d felt in Enzo’s arms, protected and safe. I wasn’t going to dwell on how utterly aware I’d been of him while he was dominating me, yet how completely relaxed and comfortable. I wasn’t going to focus on the sinking feeling in my stomach when I’d declined his dinner offer. “I don’t think so,” I lied. “I think this is just about sex, nothing else.”
It was impossible to let Enzo Peron into my life; my solitary experience with trying to have dinner with Craig Dearborn had proved it. I steeled my heart, and I doubled down on the lie. “In fact, I’m not even sure if I want to do another session with him. Maybe I’ll try another Dominant?”
“Be careful, and promise me you’ll tell me what happens?” she asked, and I dutifully promised.
I didn’t understand why, but inside me, it felt like my heart was breaking.
Chapter 11
Alice:
Friday night, I wore a midnight blue dress that outlined every single curve of my body, combed my hair into soft waves, and made my way to Casanova.
All week, I’d debated whether I’d go back. All week, I’d dreamed of Enzo, of the way he’d touched my body, of the way he’d controlled me and taken me to the peaks of pleasure.
I wasn’t sure if he’d be at Casanova. If he was there, I wasn’t sure if I’d approach him, or if he’d approach me. I wasn’t sure of anything.
***
When I entered the main floor of Casanova, my eyes automatically searched for Enzo. I found him at the bar, laughing and chatting with the bartender. Without even being conscious of my actions, I walked over to him.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly when I got to him.
His eyes ran up and down my body, a slow, sensual inspection. “Hello Alice,” he said finally. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Just club soda for me,” I responded. My nipples had hardened under his gaze, my pussy had clenched in need. I grabbed my drink, and Enzo inclined his head to a booth in the corner.
“Come talk with me, gattina,” he commanded, and I followed.
“A sex club is a rather strange place to have a date, Alice,” he grinned at me when we’d taken our seats. “But since you declined to join me for dinner, one does try to make the best of the situation at hand.”
I laughed out aloud. “Is this a date? I’d kind of hoped you’d just dominate me.” I flushed as I spoke. I couldn’t believe I’d just said that to him.
He smiled and his hand stroked mine. “All in due time,” he said.
“What if I’m not interested in dating you?” I asked. Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Why are you in this booth, Alice?”
Damn it. Yes, I did want to date him. I wanted to talk to him, and I wanted to laugh with him. I also couldn’t. I had to be content with the lesser pleasure.
I wanted to scream and shout; I wanted to burst into tears. I did neither. I made lemonade out of the lemons I’d been handed. “Evidently,” I said, “it’s because I’m having a date.” I inclined my head at him, smiled, and winked to let him know I was joking. “The things I have to do for sex.”
He burst out laughing at my comment. His hand still covered mine, and it was warm, and all I could think about our upcoming session. Would his hands touch me then? And this time, would he let me touch him?
To distract myself, I asked him something I’d been wondering about. “So, every time you talk to me, I’m hearing a bit of a British accent,” I told him. “Am I going crazy?”
He shook his head. “I went to university in England,” he said. “I lived in London for six years. You aren’t going crazy.”
“Why England?” I asked him, and a shadow crossed his face briefly.
“I just wanted to get out of Venice,” he said, after a few seconds of silence. “I wanted to see what the world had to offer.”
“And you are back in Venice now,” I said. “Did the world have nothing to offer then? Nothing to keep you?”
At this, he smiled easily again, and my heart skipped a beat. No. Not my heart. That was insane. My pussy skipped a beat. Because the way my body was responding to Enzo, this was just lust. It had to be, because lust was all that was possible. “The world had plenty to offer,” he said. “But it was time to come home again.”
“How long have you been back in Venice?” I asked him. I was probably being nosy, but he seemed happy enough to answer my questions.
“Five years,” he replied. “And you? Why Venice?”
I gave him a look out of the corner of my eye. “You’ll think I’m silly,” I replied.
He raised his eyebrow. “I can’t make any promises,” he said, with an amused twitch of his lips. “If for example, you tell me your psychic told you to come to Venice, I will have to roll my eyes.”
I laughed. “No psychic,” I assured him. “My parents were from Sicily, and they honeymooned in Venice. All through my childhood, they always talked about how beautiful it was. They never came back. They just held on to their memory of that one perfect trip.”
He looked curious. “Your parents are Italian? Tell me more. I assumed you were American?”
“I am,” I replied. “First generation. My parents are Sicilian though. They were bakers.”
“Ah,” he said, his expression clearing. “Hence the bakery here?”
I nodded. “I practically grew up in the bakery,” I said. “I’d help out before I went to school.” I took a sip of my drink. “Tell me about yourself,” I prompted. “Why did you decide to become a cop?”
He smiled. “It’s somewhat clichéd,” he replied. “I grew up in an orphanage. It was a bit of a hellish place, where the caretakers decided the best way to discipline unhappy children was with the belt.” He frowned. “I had two friends who were like family to me, and I was the oldest. As best I could, I protected them.” He smiled. “I guess it became a habit.”
“And you offered to keep me safe as well,” I said softly, remembering his words to me last week. You will be safe, Alice. He’d grown up without the protection of parents, and as an adult, he’d chosen a profession where he would protect those that needed his help. I’d formed a snap judgement about Enzo Peron, based on the fact that he was a cop, but I’d been terribly wrong.
He shot me a look. “It isn’t an offer, Alice,” he replied. “It’s a fact. In Venice, you are safe.”
Our conversation was easy and relaxed. He teased me about my Italian, which was really terrible. I blushed in embarrassment. My marriage to Ian had ruined my relationship with my parents, and I had no one to speak Italian with. We talked about books and movies and music. I thought about asking if the Venice police had made any progress in figuring out who was trying to break into my apartment, but I didn’t. He was fun to talk to, and I was having a really good time. I didn’t want to spoil the mood.
When our conversation had died down into a comfortable silence, and my drink was long-empty, he looked at me intently. “If this were a proper date, it’d be time to walk you home.”
“If this was a proper date, I’d invite you upstairs,” I whispered. Desire danced on my skin.
He got up and extended his hand to me. “Since it isn’t though,” he said with a half-smile, “shall we instead adjourn to a private room at the club?”
Chapter 12
Alice:
My flame of my arousal was already burning bright. It burned higher.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Yes you are,” Enzo said, and I shivered at the sound of his voice, with its smooth, smoky, amused undertones.
“Have I told you look beautiful tonight?” he said. He gave me a look that clearly said I want you.
I let my eyes run all over his body, He wore a white dress shirt and dark grey trousers and he looked amazing. “You too,” I responded, and he blushed a little. I laughed, utterly startled. “Did you just blush?” I asked h
im, and he winced.
“I was hoping you didn’t see that,” he said. “I confess, I’ve never been called beautiful before.”
I chuckled, but refrained from any further smart-ass remarks. “So, tonight,” he said. “I’d normally have a plan, but since you are relatively new, I thought we’d walk around, and you could pick a room that excites you.”
I’d been given a brief tour by the staff last week. This time though, walking through with Enzo, knowing that I could pick a room and he’d use whatever instrument of pleasure and pain in that room on me?
I was aroused, I was nervous. But definitely more aroused than nervous.
We walked around the upper level, which had several private rooms, all with varying equipment. Enzo reeled out names as we walked past. St. Andrews Cross. Spanking bench. Stocks. Some of these, I’d seen on the internet. Some others were new to me.
“You’ve used all of these?” I said, looking up at his face.
He shrugged. “Mostly, yes.”
“Should I be afraid?” I asked him directly.
He laughed. “On the contrary, gattina, it should reassure you that I know what I’m doing. The last thing you want is someone who has no idea what he’s doing swinging a whip at you.”
Valid, valid point. I straightened my shoulders, meeting his gaze. “You pick a room,” I said. “I’m in your hands tonight.”
“Alice,” he said. His voice even sounded like dark, sensual lust. “Close your eyes,” he ordered, and I obeyed.
“Come,” he said, taking my hand and walking forward.
I kept my eyes closed, and took small steps. It was slightly nerve-racking not being able to see, but his touch was reassuring, and his hand guided me.
“Trust me,” he said. “You won’t fall.”
“I do trust you,” I replied. It was strange, given that I had only known him for a week, but I was operating entirely on instinct, and my instincts told me I had nothing to fear from Enzo. I felt cocooned in his warmth, ensconced in his protection.
An Heiress in Venice Page 4
