He nodded. “They are well known as foods to try when in Venice.”
She looked only at the meat option and folded her menu after deciding on the chicken. “Sounds great. I’m in. Then I’ll choose chicken scampi for the meat.”
“Sounds good.”
The moment she put her menu down, the waiter came toward them and Blackwell ordered for both of them. Once he left, she sat back in her chair, picked up her glass of wine and said, “You ordered in Italian.”
He winked and held up his glass. “When we go to France, I speak French too.”
Wow. She became tongue-tied when she tried hard words that she wasn’t used to. She sipped. “I never really learned a second language though I am good at faking Spanish.”
“Faking?”
The waiter brought the first dish before she could answer. She was never adventurous with seafood, but she needed to be more open, so she picked up her fork. Once the waiter left, she scooped some on her small plate and said, “In Miami, there is a lot of Cuban Spanish spoken. I can order food, clothes and have general “hello, can I help you” conversations though if someone starts talking about something specific, I’m lost.”
He watched her try her food as if she was fascinating. Once she swallowed, he leaned forward. “Donna, you’re honest. It’s refreshing.”
They ate their pasta and third meal flirting and starting to drink a second glass of wine. As she was halfway done with the chicken, she noticed a fake blonde with dark roots staring at her like she wanted to trade spaces. Donna tugged on her ear and motioned with her nose, “Do you know that woman over there?”
“Over where?” He followed her move and quickly turned back to her. His cheeks seemed darker. “Ohh.”
Donna sucked in her breath as the blonde came over to their table. She swung her hip close to Donna’s face as she stared at Blackwell and said, “Oberlin, hello. You look well.”
He put his fork down, smiled at the woman and motioned toward Donna. “May I introduce Miss Donna Smith from America, my soon to be bride.”
His bride? She didn’t even dare hope, but this was pretend and he needed help out of a jam. Once the woman left, she’d ask for more details.
The woman pouted. “Oh. I didn’t know you found someone, Oberlin. I’m slightly disappointed.” She swung her other hip and backed off an inch or two though she flipped her hair. “Please call me if something changes.”
Donna’s heart pounded, uncertain what to think. She waited until the woman was out of earshot and then leaned closer. “Who was that?”
He covered his chin and lowered his gaze. “I spent an evening with her last year. I don’t remember her name.”
Didn’t know her name? That wasn’t good at all. Donna picked up her glass of wine. She had no right to judge, but she hoped he remembered her name forever because she’d remember him. “That’s bad, Blackwell.”
He picked up his glass and confided, “At least she called me by my last name. I really hate when someone calls me Oakley. That’s my father’s title as far as I’m concerned.”
Right. They were from different worlds. In her dreams years later, she’d remember every detail of Blackwell’s body and how she felt near him. For now, she’d not make waves. Instead she held out her glass to clink. “Well, I am happy to have been your fake fiancée.”
He toasted with her, but stared up and down her body, stopping slightly at her chest. “There is nothing fake about you, Donna. It’s what I like most.”
She didn’t even wear makeup normally. That woman would know how to make herself look fabulous while Donna only knew the basics. She ignored the ping in her heart as she knew it was jealousy.
Donna took a calming sip of wine. For now, she’d do whatever she wanted with no regrets. Her trip was about her, not anyone else, though she liked being with Blackwell, probably more than she should. She leaned closer and said in a seductive tone, “You can see all of me when we get back to our room.”
He put his napkin on the table. “I’ll order dessert to go. Let’s go.”
The waiter brought the bill and Blackwell paid fast. His hand on her back made her hunger for him. She knew she was heading for heartache, but for now the time they had together had to be enough.
9
Blackwell memorized Donna’s silhouette while she was in the bathroom, ironing a simple shirt for the day ahead. She was comfortable in her plain white bra that she’d probably bought at one of the huge chain stores. Most of the women he’d met in Europe wouldn’t dream of wearing anything like that, but on Donna, simple looked sexy.
She glanced over her shoulder so he cleared his throat, turned his head and pretended he hadn’t been studying her chest. “After the Doge’s palace, ice cream, Gallerie dell'Accademia, and an early dinner, I was thinking we could drive to Firenze this evening.”
She buttoned her shirt and put the iron away. “Sounds amazing, Blackwell. I was wondering, did you ever get a nickname as a kid in school or did everyone always call you Blackwell?”
He stood and stopped her from putting the ironing board away. Staff would take care of that when they left. He kissed her neck. “My teacher in first grade called me Trouble with a Capital T.”
“What did you do?” She finished buttoning her shirt and tucked it into her jeans.
His skin felt rough against her smoothness, but she held him close as if she liked it. “Anything but what she told me to do.”
She ran her hand in his thick, coarse hair. “I can see that being a problem. Do you still have an issue about doing what you’re told?”
He traced the white bra strap beneath her shirt. “Depends. If you tell me you want something, I’ll happily comply.”
She turned and hugged his shoulder. “Flirting every day must get tiring, but I appreciate it.” She stepped back and buttoned her pants. “I’m going to wear my jeans today if that’s okay?”
He laughed. With her it could be the last time someone accepted that he wore his own jeans without comment, but he massaged her back and fingered the edge of her bra, wanting her out of the shirt. “So long as you show me those sexy legs of yours later. You’re beautiful and I want to memorize every feature.”
She lightly ruffled his hair. “Relentless flirting. We’ll see what the day unfolds, shall we?”
Was that a challenge? He winked. “I will charm you back to bed before dinner, but for now, let’s get going.”
He threw his clothes on, cleaned himself up and was done in less than five minutes. Donna’s clean face with her lack of makeup made her kissable all day and he intended to taste her when she didn’t expect.
He offered his hand as they walked out of the hotel and down the stairs. Outside, Donna took a deep breath and said, “The Grand Canal is beautiful.”
They walked together arm-in-arm through Venice in the morning light. As they passed the water view of the Bridge of Sighs, she stopped, leaned her head on his chest and took in the view.
Behind them a male voice called out, “Donna?”
She stood straight and dropped his hand. Her face was red as she said, “Harry? What are you doing here?”
Blackwell’s chest pounded and he puffed it out while the other man kissed both of Donna’s cheeks. “I’m here for work and heading to Florence this afternoon. Why are you here? You never expressed an interest in coming with me?”
Donna turned brighter red.
Blackwell refused to let this man interfere in their vacation and he stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake. “So, you’re Harry?”
The man was a foot shorter than him, thin, with light brown hair streaked with blond and squirrely blue eyes. He stared at him like he was no one important. “And you are?”
Right. He blocked Donna with his shoulder from view as he shook the man’s hand. “Blackwell Oberlin, the Duke of Oakley.”
Normally he never used his title, but for Harry, he made an exception. Donna was his now.
Soft hands shook his in a weak greet
ing then Harry started in surprise. “You’re a major shareholder in Berkshire Hathaway, Inc.”
Anyone who read investment magazines would know that. Blackwell shrugged and placed his hand on Donna’s lower back. “I invest my money where I can make more money. Right now, Donna and I have a showing we cannot miss.”
Harry’s eyes were round as tea saucers as he nodded his goodbye. “Donna, you look good.”
She held up a hand and waved. “Thanks, Harry. See you around.”
The moment they walked away, Blackwell said, “So that was your Harry.”
Her face stayed more pinkish than normal, but it wasn’t as red. She lowered her gaze and continued to walk down the Grand Canal with him. “He’s not mine, not anymore. He flew out for business once a month for a few days but he never asked me to go with him. I always wanted to go to these places he talked about. I received the impression that I wasn’t welcome.”
Outside the corner of the Doge’s palace, Blackwell felt his own body tense as he absorbed her words. He let her go and asked, “So your list is all the places you wanted to go with Harry?”
Her face paled. “That sounds really bad.”
“You don’t deny it.” He crossed his arms.
She shook her head but couldn’t look him in the eye. “I never thought about it.”
Perhaps she was still in love with Harry and that was why she was finding herself. The idea of being Harry’s replacement made his stomach feel sour. He reached for her arm to link in his and stared at the door ahead. “Let’s not discuss it.”
She didn’t take his hand, but stood in front of him with her legs slightly apart. “No, wait. Maybe he triggered me writing the list, but I grew up reading books in the library as my escape, especially after my parents died. The books I read were often set in various European settings. The philosophers I liked were always European.”
If so, she could have dropped the conversation. Part of him wondered if he was onto something and she still wanted Harry back. He put his hands in his pockets. “Who were these philosophers?”
Her eyebrows arched. “Aristotle-”
“He’s Greek,” he interrupted and shook his head. “Greece wasn’t on your list.”
She stepped closer and brushed her hands against his upper arms. “Voltaire. He’s Italian. John Locke, he’s English and you introduced me to English royalty. I was so grateful.”
She smelled like vanilla and the sweetest thing in Venice. His heart slowed to its normal pace, and he let out a grunt. “Let’s end this conversation, Donna. It doesn’t make me happy.”
She turned, took his hand in hers and squeezed it a little. “Okay. Let’s just enjoy the Doge’s palace and get that ice cream?”
“Fair enough. This way.” They entered a castle that had circles and white space, and was nothing like the gothic writers from England or the usual dreams of girls he remembered in high school who talked a lot. Here everything was Italian marble and clean. Without a word, he motioned for a guard who opened a red velvet top and he was given access to the unopened areas and guided her inside.
The first room had more gilded gold than he cared for, but Donna scoped the room like she was in awe and her face lit up like she was watching the fourth of July fireworks.
As they walked toward the next room, which he knew was where the king held private audiences, his phone vibrated. He tried to hit ignore, but Donna said, “Your phone is ringing.”
He took his phone from his back pocket and saw the Earl of Paston’s name flash. Perhaps his offer of marriage had been accepted, which wouldn’t be good, not now. He held the phone in his hand. “Please enjoy the next room and I’ll join you in a moment. I need to take this call.”
She kissed his cheek and let him go. “Okay, I’ll miss you.”
Blackwell turned toward the huge bay window. “Hello, sir.”
The older man was the same age his father had been, though he seemed in good health. Blackwell listened and intended to say as little as possible that Donna might overhear. “Oakley, my daughter Chelsea wanted to ask you a few questions before she accepts your offer. Can you talk to her?”
Of course, she had questions. He honestly had no idea what she even looked like. All he knew was her resume and family name. He tugged his ear. “Can I call later? I’m in the middle of something right now.”
Paston muffled the phone but clearly asked her. A minute later, he said, “She said please call her before four today as she is helping to host the Women Voter’s benefit dinner tonight.”
He’d chosen Chelsea for her ability to function as a duchess. Neither man mentioned his older daughter who had no picture or online identity. Part of him wondered why she hadn’t been visible or why her father hadn’t pushed the issue, but he wasn’t invested enough to ask.
Donna’s steps in the next room echoed on the hardwood floor. His heart sped up and he told Paston, “I will call by then. Thank you, sir.”
Paston said, “I’m hoping my daughter becomes your duchess so I can call you my son.”
Ice grew in his veins, and he flinched. “Very good, sir. Goodbye.” He spoke with more force. Donna was probably wondering what was taking so long and he turned toward the door. Blackwell turned his phone off the instant the man said goodbye and walked into the next room.
Donna motioned for him to join her near a statue of a former Doge, who ran Venice for the church for centuries. “Who was that, Blackwell?”
He decided quickly that Donna didn’t need to know about Paston. He’d rather marry her and pay the contract off, if Donna said yes to him. He’d ask her once they made it to Paris as planned but for now, he had to convince her that marriage to him was a good deal. He put both of his hands on her hips and turned her toward him. “Business. I’d rather spend my time with you.”
“So it wasn’t bad news.” She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss as he came closer.
His lips met hers and he hoped she’d agree. He anticipated sparks from their kisses for the rest of his life—it ended too soon and he guided her toward the next room, a library that had countless hardcover books on religious beliefs and dogmas but the books reached the ceiling in all corners. “It’s the backup plan that I’ll happily pay off, if I get my first choice.”
She stared at him completely blank and smiled. “Oh, well that’s cool.” Her head craned up as she stared at all the books. “There are no numbers to identify the books for organization. This palace is gorgeous. I can’t imagine living in such opulence.”
Unable to keep from touching her, he tugged Donna close and ran his hands up and down her back. She turned him on and he was tempted to throw her against the wall in this room and have her again.
However, she seemed unaffected so he didn’t give in to his passion. She kissed his cheek and turned to hold his hand and continue the tour.
He walked beside her. “I wish I would have brought you to my home while we were in Avce, since you enjoy history so much. If you saw the miniseries, Pride and Prejudice in the 1990s with Colin Firth, my house is kind of like Pemberly—with some ancient Roman styles mixed in.”
She glanced at his profile and inhaled as they passed a marble statue. “I can’t imagine living there either. Everything is different in Florida—history there is only a few hundred years old.”
He knew the layout of the palace and the master suites were next on the tour which would be too much temptation. Blackwell motioned toward the exit. “Let’s go get that ice cream and enjoy each other for the rest of the day.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” She followed him out.
Part of Donna’s charm was her complete innocence, which made him crazy with the need to be inside her. One day soon, he’d ask her very seriously for her hand in marriage and hope she agreed to be his forever.
10
Donna’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced at Blackwell studying the choices in the ice cream parlor. He was sculpted like a body builder, his hands were slightly rough and she knew
he took care of himself, but he was way more handsome than any other man she’d ever seen. His dark hair, dark eyes and muscular build was somehow at odds with his being a duke.
He turned toward her in question. She held up her peppermint ice cream cone and smiled. “Blackwell, this one is delicious. You should try it.” She pried her gaze from his full lips, imagining them on her.
He spoke to the ice cream scooper in Italian before he said, “I want lemon instead.”
He had no idea how carnal her thoughts were. She’d never expected to find a man half as sexy in her bed, and, somehow, she had him. She licked her ice cream while he paid for their cones. “You’re missing out on this deliciousness.”
He held his ice cream cone and walked beside her, away from Royal Gardens as they continued along the canal. The green trees with the water of the Grand Canal in the background made a picturesque atmosphere as they finished their ice creams. Once they were done, he leaned closer. “I’ve never had a bad ice cream in Venice.” He stepped back and his lips thinned. “Oh look, your Harry is here too.”
Outside another church, they once again almost walked right into Harry. She held back and hoped she’d not be seen, but Harry said, “Blackwell, Donna. I am surprised to see you both still together.”
Drat. This wasn’t what she’d planned. Today was supposed to be only Blackwell and her, getting to know one another. Blackwell said, “It’s only been an hour since you saw us last.”
Goodness, she should have said that. She needed to grow her backbone. The entire trip was about finding herself and taking charge of her life.
Harry stared right at her like she was an alien he’d never seen before. “How did you two even meet?”
“I was having a beer.” She lifted her chin. For years people met in bars, and there was nothing wrong with being in one, especially while on her vacation.
Harry blinked and his body jolted back in shock. “You hate beer.”
Blackwell went to say something, but she placed her hand on his arm and shrugged her shoulders toward Harry. “That was the old me. I’m trying new things and Blackwell has been kind enough to guide me in some European dream experiences.”
Forbidden Duke (Princes of Avce Book 4) Page 6
