by Vivien Vale
Dante was a darling during the train ride here, but I could tell he was irritated that I didn’t want to talk. I tried my best to humor him with his questions when all I wanted was to crawl inside myself and think.
“To Rome. To us,” Dante declares.
“To our stay in Rome.”
We toast.
The waiter arrives with the menus, but Dante doesn’t even let him hand me one. He briefly scans the menu. Clearly, he’s decided in advance, according to what he has read about this place. He goes over a long list and orders everything for both of us, from antipasti to soup, salad, pasta and different types of meat for the main dish—down to the tiramisu for dessert.
I’m speechless, but then I find my tongue and say, “That was clearly thought-out before we even got here.”
“These are just the things you simply have to try here. Trust me, you’ll be amazed. You don’t have to eat everything, of course.”
“But you could have at least asked me,” I protest.
“I’m sorry, Nicole.”
He holds my hand on the table.
“I’m just so excited to be here with you. This is just dinner. The main fun begins tomorrow. There’s a lot more waiting for us.”
His touch feels good, and I decide to let it go. He just means well, I know it.
This is the Dante I fell in love with, I remind myself. The one who wants to make sure everyone is alright, is having a good time. Who thinks of himself last.
“Guess what?” Dante continues. “Remember in the taxi today, I mentioned the Vatican? I’ve booked us a tour tomorrow morning. It’s a small group only, no crowd. And for afterwards, I’ve arranged for a private viewing of Saint Peter’s Chapel. Just you and me!”
He winks.
“You know, Michelangelo contributed to the design, and there are parallels to Saint Mark’s chapel in Venice. See how it’s all coming together?”
“Dante,” I interrupt him, “stop!”
“What’s wrong, Nicole?”
“Don’t you remember that just this morning we’ve also talked about things moving so fast?”
“Yes, yes, I remember,” he agrees.
“Well, here you are again with a full day planned for us tomorrow. And you probably have our entire stay here lined up already as well.”
“There’s so much to see,” he presses.
“I know, and I appreciate your organizing our tour and all your efforts. But I’d also enjoy it if you asked me about these things. We’re a couple, we’re married, we’re partners.”
He nods emphatically.
“You said it yourself, we’re in this together. So shouldn’t we act together, make decisions together?”
“Nicole,” he says and touches my hand again, “you’re absolutely right, of course. I’m truly sorry. Please understand how much it thrills me to surprise you with stuff.”
“I do, Dante, I do.”
I smile at him in a way that dispels his earlier concern and irritation.
He’s literally melting in his seat.
He makes a show of calling back the waiter and canceling our order. He personally hands me the menu with a small bow from his seat.
“Here, please, order anything you want.”
I decide on just the fish and a salad, and Dante silently accepts my choice. We don’t speak of it again, and he doesn’t bring up any more plans for the rest of the dinner.
But he also doesn’t discuss any possible changes to his itinerary. Together with his speech earlier about how I shouldn’t ‘wander off’ anywhere on my own, I’m left with a sour taste in my mouth.
I don’t want any dessert, and when he asks if we should check out Rome’s clubs, I refuse.
“Just take me back to the hotel, please. I’m tired from the train ride today.”
Since we’re staying so close to the Colosseum, Dante proposes a little stroll around it to end the night. The ancient building is lit up impressively and definitely appeals more to me now than during the cab ride to our hotel.
Dante offers his arm, and I gladly take it. Feeling his reassuring warmth through his shirt, I take my time checking out the arches of the building. I note he’s not paying attention to the architecture and is instead intensely observing other people around us in the street.
I get the feeling he is actively looking for some of the ‘bad guys’ he mentioned earlier so he can point them out to me and give me another warning. Joke’s on him, though, because all we see are other tourists and locals who don’t look twice at us.
I can’t see any difference between Venice and Rome. It seems just as safe here.
Dante or no Dante at my side, I could have walked around the Colosseum just the same.
As we get back to the hotel, there’s a commotion at the reception. A young blonde is making a scene, while three receptionists surround her.
“Calma, signorina.”
They’re trying to settle her down, but she starts crying instead.
“Is there no one who can help me?” she shouts.
“Maybe I can do something?” Dante wonders. “Excuse me just a second, Nicole.”
With that, he just leaves me standing at the elevator. What was all this talk about constantly being at my side? I’ll have none of it and follow him to the reception.
Dante’s handsome face and American accent have an instant effect on the blonde. She accepts a tissue from him and with a calmer voice explains that she has a reservation at the hotel, but they won’t let her check in.
“I’ve just been robbed. Someone in the street grabbed my purse and ran off—with my passport and my credit cards!”
Dante turns to me. “See, it can be dangerous out there,” he says triumphantly.
Everyone at the reception turns their attention to Dante as he quickly resolves the situation with authority.
“Please give this woman the room she reserved, and put it on my charge. She’s been through enough already.”
He turns to the blonde. “Don’t worry. I know someone at the American embassy, and they’ll see to your papers. All you have to do is cancel your cards.”
“Thank you so much!” she says full of gratitude—and admiration.
Dante touches her lightly on the shoulder before we return to the elevator.
“Imagine being in that situation,” he says, probably trying to make me understand the dangers of Rome during the ride up while I sulk.
Oh, I understand just fine.
What if I hadn’t been there? Would he have taken the blonde up to his room?
She certainly seemed ready to do whatever as thanks!
I see it clearly now. Dante is keeping me on a very short leash. But he himself might run off any second someone else comes along.
Someone more attractive, someone more experienced, or someone even stupider than me.
Because I must’ve been too stupid to realize it before: Dante is just like Ryan.
The incident with the blonde at the reception leaves me restless all night, and I don’t sleep well. I’m up very early.
My first thought is to order myself strong coffee to be ready for the day. But it’s a day entirely planned by Dante, who’s still in bed, sleeping soundly.
Dreaming of the blonde girl, most likely.
I feel trapped in the hotel room. I try to reach Allison, but no way will she answer at this hour. Whatever adventures she’s had with her friend, she’s still sleeping them off.
Just as well. It’s time I start deciding for myself.
Am I not my own person?
Ryan—at least he let me travel to Venice by myself. But Dante, maybe he’s even more controlling! How did he put it?
Don’t wander off by yourself, I want to know you’re safe at all times?
Well, it sounded more like, ‘I want to know where you are at all times’ to me—can it get any more controlling than that?
If he really gets me, he’ll understand I can do things by myself—in fact, I need to!
&nb
sp; I decide to explore on my own and go for a walk around the neighborhood.
Why should it just be Dante who has adventures by himself? I write him a note saying I’ll be back later in time to meet him for the Vatican tour and leave it on my pillow.
Chapter 30
Dante
Snake-like, she slides along my body. Heat spreads through me, travels to every pore I have. Growing fast and furious.
Her lips caress my skin, leaving millions of tiny butterfly kisses where they’ve been.
My hand reaches for her.
Nothing.
I sigh. I roll onto my side and try again.
Emptiness.
Sunlight comes through the window, shining on my face to wake me up. I open my eyes.
No. It was all a fucking dream.
I smirk. That was one hell of a dream that has left me rock hard with morning wood the size of Texas. I stretch my body out on the bed, my brain slowly shifting into gear.
My left hand stretches out towards the other side of the bed in search of Nicole. I definitely want to make my dream a reality—but all my hand comes in contact with are cold sheets.
Turning my head, I see the bed is empty.
“Nicole?” I call out to the room. No response. All I hear is deafening silence.
Where the hell is she?
I hop out of bed completely naked and retrieve my pants on the floor. Searching the room, I don’t find Nicole, but I soon find a note she has left stating she’s gone on a walk and will be back by ten.
I frown. Hadn’t I told her not to go out on her own? I’m sure I’d warned about her this.
Why then had she left without waking me?
Was she meeting Ryan?
No. I don’t know why the fuck I even had that thought.
Okay, so don’t fucking panic, I tell myself and take some deep breaths. I’m probably being totally over protective, and there’s nothing wrong at all with a morning stroll in bright daylight.
Relax.
The breathing is working.
The alarm clock beside the bed indicates I’ve got an hour before she returns.
First thing’s first. I’ve got time to shower and shave before going down to the lobby to wait for her.
Guess there won’t be any morning sex today, or even shower sex. What damn shame.
Forty minutes later, I’m patiently waiting in the lobby of the hotel.
I check my watch for the millionth time. It isn’t quite ten yet.
With an unease settling in the pit of my stomach, I start to pace the lobby.
Okay, so I don’t mind that she’s gone for a walk on her own. Not at all. She’s more than capable of finding her way around the city.
If she gets lost, I know she has her phone with her to call me if need be. The residents of this city are probably used to tourists getting lost too, and would be willing to help her if she asks.
What bothers the shit out of me though is the fact that she’s out in a foreign city by herself, even though I fucking told her not to go out without me.
I wasn’t joking when I told her it wasn’t safe with the assholes in this city trying to hustle and hold up tourists. I wasn’t trying to scare her either.
A buddy of mine told me about the incident he experienced right here in Rome. The muggers cornered him, took all his belongings, and gave him a brutal beating that put him in the hospital for a week.
I don’t blame him for never wanting to visit here again.
Just thinking of the danger Nicole could find herself in while strolling around Rome by herself makes me break out into a cold sweat. I should be with her. I can protect her, or at least make others think twice about approaching her if they saw me with her.
I know Nicole is a smart woman, all the more reason I’m struggling to understand her decision to leave me and go for a walk on her own.
The huge clock in the lobby suddenly clangs several deep notes.
I look, and it’s finally ten. Glancing towards the front doors, I keep my eyes glued for Nicole. I know she said ten, but even I know you can get caught up in the beauty of the city and lose track of time, so I don’t panic—yet.
I’m trying to figure out exactly why she didn’t wake me up this morning. She knows I’ve been to Rome before and could show her around. Did she intentionally leave me behind to get away from me for a little while?
I’m not blind to the fact that she’s been distant and unhappy at times. I’ve tried to figure out what’s causing her to draw away from me.
I’m at a loss, though.
We haven’t known each other long, but the past few days have been incredible. I’ve done everything to make her happy and have the best experience she can ask for in Venice, and hopefully, here in Rome too—if she would just get her sweet ass back here.
The sex is phenomenal too. I’m not just saying that to be egotistical. It’s been the best sex I’ve ever had with any woman.
Nicole knocks any woman out of the park. I know she’s enjoyed it too.
So why the distance? Why the unhappiness?
The clock now says it’s ten thirty.
Several possible dangerous situations Nicole could’ve found herself in start manifesting in my head.
I keep pacing and checking my watch. What the fuck is going on?
She should be back by now.
A low growl rumbles in my chest out of frustration.
Could she have gone back while I was in the elevator coming down to the lobby? Is she already back in the room, wondering where I am?
It’s possible.
I quickly hop on an elevator and push the button for the floor to our suite.
My anxiety and panic rises with each level the elevator travels upwards. By the time the doors open, my skin is itching, and I’m desperate to get to the room.
I storm into the room and search every inch of the suite.
She’s not in the living room area. Or the bedroom or bathroom. I even check the closet.
No Nicole in sight.
I dig into my back pocket for her note. I quickly read it over again.
Gone for a walk. See you in the lobby by ten.
-Nicole
She said she’d be back by ten. Well, it’s past ten, and her ass is still not here.
The note crunches as I ball it up in my fist. I throw it to the floor.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
My frustration, anger, and worry all battle for dominance inside me.
This is ridiculous.
Think. Where would you go in Rome if you had never been?
She could be at any number of tourist hotspots. There’s also the fact that I don’t know when she left this morning and how far she could’ve gone depending on how much time she has between when she left and when she said she would be back by.
I need to go back down to the lobby. That’s where I’ll know as soon as she’s back from her morning stroll. I’m trying like hell to not have a full-blown panic attack as each minute passes that she hasn’t returned.
It’s damn hard, though.
I’ve got to find her. I’ve got to make sure my wife is safe.
Chapter 31
Nicole
I don’t check to see where I’m walking.
For a long time, I just follow my feet.
I walk past the lovey-dovey couples out and about, sharing gelato and recreating Lady and the Tramp over their alfresco breakfast.
I’m in Rome, but I can’t lift my head to sightsee.
Even in the shadow of the Colosseum, it’s hard to be excited. What’s the point of being in such a beautiful city if I don’t have anyone to share it with? Even Allison’s gone off with some boy, leaving me here all alone, on my wedding week.
Do I have a sign around my neck that says loser?
First, my dad leaves us for his new wife—his new daughter. Ryan can’t even be bothered to show up for our wedding.
Now Dante’s taking the same steps towar
d leaving me in obscurity. I bet even little Luciano is coo-cooing and having a right laugh about how he too can crap all over me before flying away into the clutches of some flashy dove with big…feathers.
I just really thought Dante would be different. He went through so much effort from picking out a beautiful costume, to save me from drowning, twice, and to making sure my first time was perfect.
I could’ve really believed he cared about me, that he loved me, but he’s just like Ryan. Except he’s crueller. And now I’m married to him.
I feel it call me, but I resist…for a while.
Eventually, I give in, and I wander through the archways of the Colosseum, doing a lap of the arena itself. I bet if I’d waited for Dante, he could’ve gotten us a private tour—so that the other tourists with their flashy cameras couldn’t capture my anguish in the background of their holiday pictures.
I stand in the centre of the arena, looking up at the stands and feeling all the hundreds of eyes bearing down on me like never before.
I’m used to being on stage, so I thought, but the invisible judgment from hundreds of dead Italians? I might as well have been walking naked on the stage when every other girl wore evening gowns.
I look around me at ground level, feeling another pair of eyes from the lower stands, and I try to find who it is that’s staring.
Maybe Dante’s caught up with me already—even though I told him to wait in the lobby—or maybe I was just imagining things. Either way, I pull my purse a little bit closer to my chest, holding it tight across my body.
It’s such a beautiful purse—a white Michael Kors leather tote bag. It was a wedding present, and I only peeled the stickers off the gold embellishments this morning. They sparkled in the early morning sunshine.
Dante’s words echo in the back of my mind—his warnings not to go anywhere alone.
Well, it’s too late to not be alone, but I can at least get out of sight from everyone. So I move out of the sun and into the shade, sitting down on the benches. For a moment, the echoes of other tourists vibrate through the ancient stones and ring in my ears.
I think I hear the screams of the slaves, alone and afraid, waiting to face their inevitable death for the entertainment of others. I guess some things never change—here I am, shackled and forced to perform.
