A Thief in Venice

by Tara Crescent

  “You are so beautiful, Lucia,” he whispered. “Your pussy is so wet, so pretty, so gaping open for me.”

  “Gaping open, that doesn’t sound like a good thing,” I groaned.

  “It’s a very good thing,” Antonio replied. I could hear the note of male pride in his voice, and my lips twitched.

  I moved my fingers to touch my pussy. It felt sensitive. I was going to be in a world of pain tomorrow. “I’m going to be sore,” I remarked.

  He laughed. “Yes, you are.” Again, the sound of satisfaction in his voice, and I grinned to myself. “Want some water?” he asked me.

  “Please,” I muttered. I drank the water he handed me, and then just lay there on his kitchen table, my legs still open; my body unable to find the energy to move.

  I could feel his fingers unbuckling the collar on my neck, and setting it aside. “Come on, sweetness,” he said, his voice gentle and indulgent. He swept me into his arms, and carried me up the stairs to his bed, and he tucked blankets around me, and lay down next to me.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, as I curled my body into his.

  He kissed my neck, and stroked my hair, and I fell asleep in his arms. Right before sleep came though, I put my lips near his ear, and whispered, I’m still going to steal your painting, you know. I fell asleep to the sound of his warm chuckle.

  Chapter 24

  Antonio:

  I got dressed for the Doge’s Palace Gala, my mind entirely on Lucia. I hadn’t seen her in a week. She’d been in London for work, arranging the details for an exhibit she was in charge of. ‘Religious Iconography in Contemporary Art.’ Lots of modern art was going to be on display, and modern art wasn’t a mainstay at the Doge’s Palace. She had been understandably nervous about it. The Doge’s Palace didn’t really do a lot of ground-breaking exhibits, content mostly to display the furnishings, the tapestries and the artwork of the Doges. She’d texted me today though, and I couldn’t wait to see her tonight.

  Once I arrived, I looked for Lucia, but the damn room was crowded. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and I helped myself as my eyes searched the gallery.

  “Antonio,” a familiar voice slurred next to me.

  I turned towards Tatiana. “Tia, you are drunk,” I said, my voice concerned. Tatiana wasn’t a heavy drinker, and she rarely let her hair down. “What’s the matter?”

  She swayed on her feet, and I put an arm around her waist to steady her, silently cursing as I did so. Venice was a hothouse of gossip. It’d be all around the city that I’d touched Tatiana. The speculation would reignite the gossip about my relationship with Lucia. But Tatiana was one of my oldest friends, and right now, I judged her need greater than my concern about idle gossip.

  “Come on,” I urged her, drawing her towards a more secluded corner of the museum. “What’s wrong?”

  She was masked, as was I, so I couldn’t see the expression in her eyes, but I could definitely see the tears fall down her cheeks. I swore, and pulled her into my arms, and let her cry. As she cried, I tried to shield her from the room. Tatiana was proud, and tomorrow, she’d be mortified that she had lost control in front of a room crowded with people. She didn’t reply, her shoulders shaking from her sobs.

  And because life was just fucked up like that, right at that instant, Lucia and Liam Callahan turned into the corner we were in.

  ***

  She’d taken off her mask, and was shaking her hair loose, laughing at something Liam was saying. And then, she saw the two of us, and I watched the emotions flit through her eyes. Recognition. Disbelief. Shock. Betrayal. And then, she just turned and walked away.

  “Fuck,” I swore. I had to go after her. “Liam, watch Tatiana for me, please,” I ordered, and went after her in the direction she had taken. I’d apologize to both Liam and Tatiana later. Right now, my heart was pounding. I just needed to find her and explain the truth about Tatiana and me before it was too late.

  Chapter 25

  Lucia:

  I sat in a staff-only room tucked away in the back of the museum as the night passed. The first flush of betrayal had faded, and what was left was anger. The hurt would come later.

  Antonio was the one suggesting monogamy. Evidently, that only applied to me.

  Had I walked in on them kissing, it would have hurt less. But he had held Tatiana Cordova with tenderness. I knew that tenderness. I owned that tenderness. He had promised it to me the night he had buckled a collar around my neck. But I had been a fool for believing him, for believing his quiet words about wanting only me. For believing his lies about Casanova, another ploy to control me. For believing any of it.

  Eventually, I straightened my shoulders. I wasn’t going to slink away quietly, shamed by something he had done. He was the one who had promised monogamy and had failed. I was going to yell and scream and express my anger. Then, I’d walk away. But first, I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him.

  ***

  The main gallery had mostly cleared of people by the time I left the staff room. It was really late. I looked at my watch and winced. Three in the morning. Antonio would be back at his house by now. In bed, maybe with Tatiana Cordova. I tried not to let that image form in my head, but I failed.

  “Lucia?” I winced again as I saw Enzo Peron. I hadn’t seen him for months, not since the last time I was at the club.

  Enzo. Shit. Shit. Shit. Antonio had talked about Casanova being leverage. Knowing who played at the club was useful when you wanted people to cooperate with you. Including Enzo Peron, the Chief of Police. Enzo, who had no idea that he revealed a hidden bit of himself to the head of Thieves Guild in Venice.

  I wanted to tell him. I really, really did. But as furious as I was with Antonio, something held me back. Antonio had betrayed me. But I would listen to his explanation first. I owed him that much, for the months we had spent together.

  “Is something the matter, Lucia?” Enzo’s voice was concerned.

  I shook my head, but my eyes filled with tears.

  “Lucia? What’s wrong?”

  I swallowed. Enzo was a friend, and at this moment, I badly needed one. Half the city already thought I was Antonio Moretti’s mistress. Enzo had no doubt heard the rumours.

  “I’ve been sleeping with Antonio Moretti,” I said, my voice doleful. “But it was all based on a lie.” Antonio had promised me he would be faithful. He had stood next to me with heat in his eyes, and told me that I had ruined him for other women. I had doubted him at the start, leery of attachment after the way my parents had died, but then, I had come to trust him. I had been such a fool. I fought back the hot tears that threatened to overflow again.

  “What lie?” Enzo sounded puzzled.

  “He said there would be no other women,” I said. My voice was bitter.

  “There were other women?” Enzo raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  I glared at Enzo. He looked levelly at me. I knew that look. I’d seen that look at the club. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get the soundest spanking of my life. “Tatiana Cordova,” I said, looking at the floor. I couldn’t look at him. I was engulfed in humiliation and shame. Antonio had spoken words with a voice so sincere that I had suspended my skepticism and believed him. A fool and a fool and a fool once again.

  He laughed, a sound of utter amusement. My gaze shot to his face in shock. I expected that I would be the target of snide laughter when the word got out. I hadn’t expected it from Enzo Peron.

  But there was nothing snide about the look Enzo gave me. “Ah, Lucia,” he said, shaking his head. “You do jump to conclusions. And because I like you, and I like Antonio, I’m going to help you children sort this out.” He placed special, pointed emphasis on the word children.

  “Wait. What?” The room was reeling around me. Nothing made sense.

  “Sit,” Enzo’s voice snapped at me in his Dominant voice, and I sat automatically. He smirked slightly. My lips twitched despite myself. “Did Antonio ever tell you where he grew up?”r />
  “He said he was an orphan,” I replied.

  “He was. And I was as well. And Tatiana. We grew up together. We were the Three Musketeers. All for one and one for all.”

  I gazed at him in shock. “He isn’t sleeping with her?”

  Enzo shook his head. “As best I know, they only slept together once. When we were twenty. One drunk night. It isn’t that kind of relationship.” He paused. “We have a bond built through adversity, the three of us. But I know he is telling the truth. Since he met you, you have been the only woman in his bed and in his playroom.”

  “Oh.” My voice was small. Enzo was right; I had jumped to conclusions. Shaped by the way my father had abandoned me, I had automatically assumed the worst of a man who had never given me reason to doubt him.

  “What are you going to do, Lucia?”

  I stood. “I’m going to find Antonio.”

  He smiled at me. “Excellent choice.”

  ***

  I wasn’t sure the guards would let me in. But they parted silently, and the lights in the driveway twinkled on. The front door was ajar.

  I knocked and entered. Antonio stood just inside the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Enzo told me about the three of you.”

  “I should have told you myself,” he said. His voice was level. “I’m sorry too.”

  We just looked at each other. Neither of us was perfect. I was skittish. Antonio kept his secrets. We would both have to learn how to be in a relationship.

  Finally, he smiled a relaxed smile. It lit up his face. I furrowed my brow at him. “Why are you smiling?” I asked him.

  He laughed. “It won’t be boring, will it? Us. This journey.”

  He stayed where he was, but I moved closer, till I was standing so close I could feel the heat from his body. He opened his arms, and I sighed and moved in and leaned into him. “Not the slightest bit boring,” I replied softly.

  He smiled and put my hand over his heart. “There’s no one else for me, little thief,” he said. “I know,” I replied. We stayed like that, clinging to each other just inside the doorway, till at last, Antonio pulled away from me and eyed me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath; we wouldn’t be playing tonight.

  “Let’s go to bed, sweetness.”

  Epilogue

  Lucia:

  July 29.

  This year, I wouldn’t fail my parents. The Madonna wasn’t meant to be. I had tried and tried again, and every single time, I kept ending up in Antonio Moretti’s dungeon, at the receiving end of his whip. A whip I craved deeply.

  I didn’t want to think about Antonio. But my mind wandered to the look in his eyes as we played. Everyone else saw hardness and steel in Antonio. When we were together, I saw softness and warmth there instead.

  Our relationship had really grown in the last few months. We went out openly, Venice gossip be damned. The museum director had looked at me thoughtfully a few times, but he hadn’t mentioned Antonio, and neither had I. I was still expected to do a good job. Nothing was going to get handed to me because I was Antonio Moretti’s girlfriend. It was exactly what I wanted.

  Things were good. Except for that one tiny little phrase we were both holding off saying. I love you. I wasn’t sure why, but with each day we didn’t say those words, we invested them with an importance they didn’t deserve. We’d made a promise to each other the day I had handed him the collar and asked him to place it around my neck. I wasn’t seeing anyone else. He wasn’t either. Our bodies made constant promises to each other, but our voices stayed silent, neither of us wanting to say those words first.

  Stay focused, I whispered to myself fiercely. I was killing time in a little café. In ten minutes, I’d make my move. I’d been watching the house for weeks now, the house that held the painting I wanted to steal this year. When their shift ended and the guards changed, my window of opportunity would appear. Mere minutes, but it would be enough.

  A hand slid across mine, and I jumped, startled, as Antonio eased himself into the chair opposite me.

  “Can you really move on to the next job?” he asked me with a slight smile. “What about the Madonna?”

  I looked at him. “I failed. I got over it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did you indeed, love?”

  He’d never called me love before. Always Lucia. Or little thief. Never love. My heart started beating in my chest and I stared mutely at him.

  “I came to make you a proposition, Lucia. A way to keep the Madonna.” His voice was very steady.

  “How?” My tone was harsh.

  “As a wedding present.” He looked at me, and raised my hand to his lips, turning it over and kissing my palm and my wrist. “Little thief, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  For eight years, I had stolen a painting every year. Until, one day, I crossed the powerful head of Thieves’ Guild, and without meaning to, I had fallen in love with him. The serenity that I sought in the painting of the Madonna? I had found that serenity with Antonio.

  “Yes.”

  ***

  Much later, we were in his bed, our bodies entwined and our need for each other temporarily satiated. His finger traced lazy circles over my forearm. “So, does the Madonna go back to the Doge’s vaults?” he asked, a certain wry resignation in his voice.

  I laughed and looked at the painting hanging on the wall. “You know, I’m beginning to like it where it is.”

  He grinned and kissed me. “Such a bad girl, Lucia,” he said in my ear, nibbling at my earlobe.

  I looked at him, a slight challenge in my eyes. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

  He smiled with genuine pleasure as he reached for his belt. “For the rest of my life, little thief.”

  Read on for a special preview of An Heiress in Venice!

  Blurb:

  He is Enzo Peron. By day, he is a Chief Inspector of Police in Venice. By night, a Dominant at Casanova, Venice’s most exclusive BDSM club.

  She is Alice Blackwell, an American heiress who has fled to Venice. She comes to Club Casanova, hoping to explore the submissive desires she has held in check for many years.

  He dominates her. She submits to him.

  But Alice has a past, and it is determined to reclaim her.

  An Heiress in Venice (A BDSM Romance Novel)

  By Tara Crescent

  Text copyright © 2014 Tara Crescent

  Prologue

  Alice:

  It was three years after Ian’s death before I even thought about another man.

  I’d been at some kind of fancy art gallery opening, the kind where they fed you cheese and wine and tried to get you to buy art when you were slightly tipsy. A guy had come up to me, we chatted about the meaning of life, and at the end of the evening, he asked me out to dinner.

  Craig Dearborn had been handsome, kind and funny, and I’d had a much better time than I had expected. But, two days later, I’d received another letter in the mail, this one containing a photo of Craig and me from our dinner. I’d been laughing at something he’d said. I had looked happy.

  My mysterious letter-writer had only written one sentence, but it was effective enough.

  ‘End this, or I’ll end him.’

  I had ended things with Craig, declining to offer an explanation. But that had been the last straw. I’d lived in the shadow of the letters for the last three years, my emotions oscillating between angry recklessness and hopeless terror. But I’d be damned if I was dragging another person into the shit-show that was my life.

  Many, many years ago, when I was a child, and my parents were still talking to me, they’d told me about the city they had honeymooned in. Venice. They had made it sound so magical. My mother’s eyes had been soft as she remembered how she fed the pigeons at the Piazza San Marco and how my parents had sat on the cobblestones and had eaten bread and cheese and fruit, and found themselves perfectly content with life.

  Once upon a time, m
y life too had been magical, but those days were past. Yet, I still ran away to Venice.

  ***

  It had been a week since my arrival in Venice, and on cue, a letter was slipped under the door of my hotel room. This time, there was no picture.

  ‘How far do you think you can run, Alice?’

  And though I’d moved halfway across the world, hoping to be left alone, I’d been wrong. Whoever this person was who wanted me dead, I couldn’t outrun him or her. I couldn’t hide. All I could do was wait.

  Intrigued? Click here to continue reading An Heiress in Venice!

  End Notes

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed reading ‘A Thief in Venice’ as much as I enjoyed writing it. I also hope you’ll consider leaving a review. Reviews are one of the most important ways readers like you discover new books. Please take a moment to tell me what you thought – I’d really, really appreciate it.

  If you’d like to know when the next book in the series will be out, please visit my website to sign up for my new release email alerts. My mailing list receives a free story approximately every two months. Right now, the mailing list is reading each episode of Storm for free. If that sounds interesting, please do sign up.

  Cheers, and happy reading!

  Tara Crescent

  http://www.taracrescent.com

  Books by Tara Crescent

  BDSM Romance:

  Teaching Maya

  The House of Pain

  The Professor’s Pet

  A Thief in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 1)

  An Heiress in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 2)

  A Starlet in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 3) – Coming Soon!

  BDSM & Medical Play:

  Triage (Doctor Dom Volume 1)