“What happened?” Her voice was very quiet.
“Sometimes, she had marks. One day, my foster mother discovered them and confronted her. And she was too afraid to talk about the kink. So she told my mother that I’d been abusing her.”
I could feel her stiffen with horror. “Enzo,” she said softly, placing her hand in mine.
“It was quite a scene. My foster parents disowned me and threw me out. I was about to start university in Padua. Instead, I left Italy, wanting to leave the scandal behind.”
“They just threw you out? After three years? Without listening to what you had to say?”
I shrugged. “They picked blood, gattina. I cannot fault them for that.”
“Well, you should,” she said, her voice stubborn. “That was a terrible thing to do.”
“Can I continue the story?” I grinned, my heart warmed by her indignation. The old wound had lost its power to hurt many years ago, but I was incredibly touched that she was angry for me.
“Eventually, ten years later, Maria confessed the truth to my foster parents. They apologized. See? Happy ending.”
It wasn’t, really. Our relationship had never recovered. I had only moved back to Venice once they had died.
“But the entire thing taught me caution. Hence the club,” I continued. “Here, the people that come to play are typically experienced. There are fewer opportunities for misunderstandings.”
“And there are cameras, to vouch for you, if it comes down to it,” she said. I nodded.
“You are making a lot of exceptions for me,” she said. “Why?”
I had held myself apart for so long, forbidding myself from feeling attachment to a woman, convinced that the part of me that enjoyed control had to stay separate from every other part of my life. She was right to ask her question, but I didn’t have a good answer for her. Instead, I gave her the best thing I could. I gave her the truth.
“Somehow, gattina, with you, it doesn’t feel like an exception. It just feels… natural.”
Chapter 14
Alice:
I should have ended things with Enzo, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. All I could do was keep it within the four walls of Casanova.
For reasons he didn’t share with me, Enzo didn’t ask me out again. But at Casanova, it became the norm for us to talk before and after our sessions. We talked about politics and music and our favourite authors and everything else. I tried to explain American football to him, and he in turn tried to teach me about soccer, though he wouldn’t let me call it that. “It’s called football, gattina, despite whatever you Americans seem to think,” he said firmly. And I laughed and conceded the point.
I was falling in love.
I tried to protect my heart. I tried to keep it just about sex. But he wouldn’t let me. He was quite clear.
“I am more than just a body, Alice,” he had grinned one day, when I suggested going straight up to a private room. “I do have principles, you know.” His voice had been teasing, and I had giggled and we had chatted once again, and I’d melted in his arms.
Shaun, the bartender at Casanova, gave the two of us several curious looks. Liam, when I saw him, just looked amused by the whole thing.
At the bakery, the renovations proceeded at a brisk pace. It all started becoming more and more real, and I slowly put down roots and built the beginnings of a life in Venice.
Jeremy Reinhart was angry at the lack of progress on discovering who was behind my break-in attempt, but I had let that threat drift to the back of my mind. The most important thing was that no further attempts had taken place. Nate Caldwell was vocally unhappy as the cost of the renovations mounted, but that too was par for the course.
To my delight, Paula was planning to visit Paris in a few weeks with her husband Jason on a long-overdue vacation, and I was trying to convince her to come to visit me in Venice. If not, I’d go to Paris. I missed my best friend. Phone calls could only get us so far.
Of course, the letters kept coming, once a week, like clockwork. But the letters weren’t being pushed under my apartment door anymore. I was finding them in my mailbox in the common area of the palazzo, and it made me feel safer that whoever was threatening me wasn’t able to get closer to my apartment. And the threats stayed the same, and I had become used to them. I’d been called a slut and a whore and a gold-digger many times before. My activities at Casanova stayed hidden from the letter writer, and so did Enzo.
In a non-traditional, somewhat surreal way, I crafted my own path from the lemons I’d been given. I was the happiest I’d been in three years.
I should have known it couldn’t last.
***
Enzo:
I didn’t push, but I didn’t retreat either. She was incredible, and I wasn’t going to let her go. Day after day, I watched her get more relaxed and more comfortable; I watched the fear slowly leave her eyes.
Antonio’s protection had ensured no further attacks on her apartment, though we were both drawing a blank on figuring out who was responsible for the first one. We had dusted for fingerprints, but the results had been inconclusive. There were security cameras in the stairwell of her palazzo, but they’d never been activated. Her landlord had shrugged philosophically when I’d asked him about it. “Si, Inspector,” he’d muttered. “I was going to get it turned on, but somehow, I never got around to it.” Antonio had rolled his eyes in disgust when I’d relayed that bit of conversation to him, and the next day, Antonio’s men had activated the cameras.
We hadn’t given up on finding out who was responsible for the break-in, of course. But the progress was not as rapid as we would have liked.
***
It was Friday night, and we were sitting at the bar at Casanova, having a drink before our session. “How are you liking Venice so far? What’s your favourite bit?” I asked her. She’d just told me it had been two months to the day since she’d moved, and we’d just toasted to her move.
“You know, I haven’t explored at all,” she said ruefully. “I’ve been so busy with the renovations to the bakery.”
“Spend the day with me tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll show you around, show you all the hidden bits we don’t share with the tourists.”
Over the last month, I’d watched her gradually lower her walls and open up to me. But now, fear flared up again in her. “Enzo,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
I gritted my teeth, and pushed the anger back with effort. I’d played it her way for the last month; was I just wasting my time? “I don’t think you are the type to play games, Alice,” I said, keeping my voice even. “But I sure as hell feel played right now.”
She flinched visibly, then she got to her feet. “I have to go,” she said. Her voice was noticeably trembling.
Part of me wanted to call her back. But I didn’t. I watched her go.
Chapter 15
Alice:
There was a lot of crying.
The entire walk home, I debated telling him about the letters. Tell him, one part of me urged. He’s an adult who can make his own decisions. A cop, even. He can take care of himself.
But I shrank away from that thought. If anything was to happen to him, I would never forgive myself. He was too important to me.
And that was precisely why I couldn’t allow myself to get close to Enzo. My life was being held hostage and I couldn’t involve him.
I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I didn’t go back to Casanova, and when Enzo’s number flashed up on my screen, I didn’t answer the phone.
I hated ignoring him; I wanted to see him. But it was better this way.
***
You can go exploring on your own, I told myself on Sunday. The weather was lovely. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze blowing in from the sea, and the tourists were out in force. I felt very lonely and very isolated in my apartment.
I walked aimlessly around the city all day, but my gloom didn’t lift. For a few brief weeks, I’d felt the most no
rmal I had in the last three years. Damn it, Enzo, why couldn’t you just leave it the way it was? I thought angrily, though my anger didn’t last long. This situation wasn’t Enzo’s fault. I shouldn’t have let myself get close.
As the evening set in, my stomach started growling in protest. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was starving. There was a trattoria, not too far from my apartment that I’d walked by a million times. Today, I thought I’d try to go in.
***
Enzo:
I was having dinner with Tatiana when I saw Alice walk in. She was dressed casually, shorts and a t-shirt, looking like every other tourist in Venice. “That’s her,” I said.
Tatiana laughed. “You should see the look in your eyes. You look like a love-struck puppy.”
“Thanks, Tia,” I said dryly.
“And… she’s seen us,” Tatiana said. “And has probably jumped to the conclusion that there is something between us.”
I shrugged. “An easy problem to fix then.” I rose, winding my way towards Alice. “Gattina,” I said, and she jumped. There was an unreadable look in her eyes. “Are you here for dinner? Come join us.”
***
Alice:
I’d been jealous and heartbroken that he was having dinner with a very, very beautiful woman. Worse than that, they were laughing together in easy intimacy.
You have no right to feel this way, I reminded myself. I was the one who had pushed him away. How long did I expect him to wait around?
Longer than two days, I acknowledged.
It doesn’t matter, I argued. Our relationship wasn’t going anywhere anyway. My letter writer wouldn’t allow it.
I blinked back my tears and turned to leave. Enzo hadn’t seen me yet and I didn’t want him to see me cry, but it was too late. “Gattina,” I heard him call out.
***
It turned out that Tatiana Cordova wasn’t a date. Enzo had grown up with her and she was like his sister. She’d also just come back to Venice after six weeks of filming in Canada, and was catching up with Enzo over dinner.
Tatiana was perfectly lovely and charming, and she had a wry, joking rapport with Enzo that felt very much like family. I felt very, very silly and foolish.
After dinner, she rose. “Enzo, I’m falling asleep – the jet lag is killing me,” she said. “Alice, it’s been great meeting you. I’ll see you around?”
Enzo rose and kissed her cheek.
“You don’t have to stay on my account,” I told him nervously when he sat back down. He ignored me and signalled for another carafe of wine.
“Stay and have a drink with me, gattina,” he said. “Tell me why you keep running.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you?” He smiled. “Tell me why you got jealous of Tia.”
“Are you always this arrogant?” I snapped, hating myself for the fact that despite the threatening letters, I still wanted to hang out with him.
He laughed. “Gattina,” he said wryly. “I’m a policeman; I’m a Dom. Arrogance is a bit of a default state, I’m afraid. And you are changing the topic.”
“Please let me change the topic,” I whispered. I didn’t want to think about the letters for the moment. I wanted to stay; I wanted to close my hand over his, and I wanted to have a drink with him in this beautiful, intimate outdoor garden, with tables set amongst the flowers, and where small bulbs strung on a wire provided light. I wanted magic.
He eyed me without expression, then he nodded.
Chapter 16
Enzo:
I walked her home, and when she got to her apartment, she did something unexpected. She asked me if I wanted to come upstairs for a drink. At last.
“If I come upstairs,” I said directly, “I’m going to want more than a drink.”
She laughed and I could see the fire in her eyes. “The drink was just an excuse to invite you upstairs,” she retorted, and I grinned and leaned in to kiss her. It was meant to be a fleeting brush of lips, but when we came in contact with each other, neither of us seemed to have the power to move away. Our kiss deepened, and we kissed and petted and stroked for a few seconds, before she pulled away and we made our way to her apartment.
“I did offer you a drink,” she said once we were inside, kicking off her sandals with a sigh of relief. “Coffee?”
“I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”
“I don’t,” she replied. “I have a jar of instant coffee somewhere though.”
I shuddered in horror at her offer, and she grimaced. “Instant’s not the same thing, is it?”
“Not even a little, gattina,” I said. I didn’t mince my words. “Instant coffee is worse than sawdust, Alice, and does not deserve to exist in the universe.”
She laughed, a bright bell of musical laughter. “Tell me what you really think Enzo,” she quipped. “Don’t hold back.” She winked at me. “I also have a bottle of red wine.”
She turned on some music, something soft and instrumental, and we opened the bottle of wine. I took a seat on her couch, setting the glass down on her coffee table, and patting the seat next to me. “Come here, Alice,” I said. She wandered over and sat down, and I pulled her feet onto my lap. “Want me to massage away the aches, gattina?” I asked her.
“What if I tell on you at Casanova?” she asked, throwing her head back on the couch as my hands kneaded her arches. “God, that’s good,” she moaned. “Is this proper Dom behaviour?”
I laughed. “Being a smart-ass, that’s not very clever submissive behaviour,” I quipped. “I want a submissive in bed, gattina, someone who enjoys it when I take control. Elsewhere?” I smiled at her. “I very much enjoy your spirit, Alice. Don’t ever change.”
She gave me a startled look for a second, before she closed her eyes. “Enzo,” she whimpered, as my hands massaged the soles of her feet. I moved to her calves, kneading her tight muscles and touching her soft skin. My dick was an aching rod of steel; I was so hard for her.
Keep control, I reminded myself.
But she was not helping. “Please,” she breathed. “Please don’t make me wait, Sir. I need you.”
She was whimpering and soft and pleading, and tonight, my self-control was nowhere to be found. “Get undressed,” I growled and she exhaled shakily and pulled her t-shirt over her head and slid out of her shorts. They fell in a pool of fabric at her feet, and she stepped out of it, her hands already pushing the tiny lace panties down her hips. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her breasts swung loose, and when she straightened, I stared at her beautiful body, open heat in my eyes.
I took off my clothes, keeping my eyes on her, and pushed her down on the sectional. Her hair hung loose and towards the floor, and she obligingly spread her legs open, showing me her pretty pussy. My lips twitched. It appeared that Alice’s impatience matched my own.
Rolling a condom on, I pushed into her with no preamble, but she was wet and ready for me. “Oh that’s nice,” she sighed.
“Nice? Again?” I raised my eyebrows, and she laughed.
“How about earth-shattering?” she winked, and I rested my thumb right on her clitoris. Her breathing picked up speed.
“Or fantastic,” she breathed, as I moved my thumb on her hot nub.
“Fantastic is an improvement over nice,” I admitted, pushing deep into her and hearing her whimper. “But I think you can do better.”
“Mind-boggling,” she hissed, and I spanked her thighs. “Okay, not mind-boggling, Sir,” she breathed.
I grinned. “Keep talking,” I ordered her, my thumb moving steadily. I could feel her start to tense her body as she climbed towards climax, and I shook my head and pulled my thumb off for a second. She groaned a protesting Enzo, and I chuckled.
“You get to come when I find a word that pleases me,” I told her, and she choked out a pained, disbelieving laugh. “Damn it, Sir, that’s not fair,” she whined.
“Would you prefer not coming at all, gattina?” I ask
ed her, my voice hard, and she quickly shook her head.
“Stupendous,” she tried as I once again resumed thrusting into her wet, willing body, and my finger resumed its steady stroking of her clitoris.
“Stupendous is better than mind-boggling,” I told her.
“Amazing,” she groaned as I plunged in deep, and bottomed out. This time, her nails dug into my forearm, and she hissed, a sound of mingled pain and pleasure. She didn’t move away, not even a little bit, and instead, she raised her hips to meet me on my next stroke.
“Keep talking,” I warned, and she nodded, her eyes wild.
“Amazing,” she gasped.
“You already said amazing,” I pointed out, and she pouted at me.
“I like to tell the truth, Sir,” she replied sweetly. “And it really is amazing.”
“Flattering me so that you can get to orgasm, Alice?” I asked, struggling to keep from laughing aloud. “That’s an interesting strategy.”
“Will it work?” she said, and my fingers pinched her clitoris.
“Aah,” she hissed. “Oh, that was brilliant.”
Okay, I couldn’t hold back the laughter. I leaned in and bit her nipple, and she hissed and grabbed my hair in her hands. “Sir, please,” she begged. I could tell from the tremors running through her body that she was painfully close.
“Close, gattina?” I said in her ear, biting her earlobe in punctuation. “Then I suggest you quickly find a word, if you want permission to orgasm.”
“Awesome, fantastic, brilliant. Fucking amazing, Sir.” The words rolled out of her in a warbled, incoherent stream, and her teeth were clenched as she struggled to obey my order and wait for permission.
I relented. “Come for me, Alice,” I said, and I pressed my thumb hard on her clitoris, and pushed my cock deep into her. I felt every quiver of her body as she exploded around me, and I couldn’t hold back, I groaned and erupted as well.
When thought returned, she giggled. “We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.”
An Heiress in Venice Page 6
