by K. M. Scott
"Yes, yes, and I have no idea."
"I can't believe it. And how can you have no idea what the Doge's Palace is?"
"Just wait until you see it, Nina. The hotel is on the Grand Canal, and although I can't say most of my hotels do much for me, the one in Venice is an exception."
"What am I going to be able to add to one of your suites in Venice?" I asked, feeling immediately incapable to do anything to improve anything in that great city.
He lifted my chin to make me face him. "Don't doubt yourself. I believe in you."
That was easy for him to say. He didn't have to pick art to improve on one of the most artistically beautiful cities in the world. "Is this some sort of final exam or something? My six months are almost up, so is this the big test to see if I can keep my job?"
Tristan winced ever so slightly at the mention of my contract. "No. Think of this as merely a vacation."
"A working vacation," I corrected him. "Will we be able to visit some of the museums?"
"Of course."
Just as I began to chatter on about all the great museums in Venice, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, and as he seemed to do more and more, he apologized for having to take the call and left the dining room. Of all the changes that had occurred over the past months, this one I disliked. Ever since that night in Dallas, it seemed like his phone was always interrupting our time together. It rang almost constantly, and at least once a day, he left to speak to someone, even though with me he claimed that after five was a time he wanted nothing to do with work. I didn't know if he answered only one person's call or if he allowed himself one call each night, but whether it was during dinner, as we relaxed, or just as we fell asleep, he took that one call, always leaving before he answered it.
At first I'd been suspicious and worried that it was another woman, but each night he returned to the house and me and rarely left. Even when he went out to attend some work function, he told me where the event was to be held and which actress he was escorting that night, even joking about his stiffness and being a bad fake boyfriend. And every morning after, I saw him and the girl du jour on Page Six, with Tristan as uncomfortable and rigid as always at just the place he'd said he'd be.
I'd considered asking him about the calls, but something told me I shouldn't. Maybe it was the stressed look on his face every time the phone vibrated, but I didn't want to know what made him unhappy. And I didn't believe he wanted me to know.
When he didn't return for nearly thirty minutes, I began to get worried. Had he left on some emergency he couldn't tell me about? After roaming around the house for ten minutes more, I finally found him down near the indoor pool just sitting on one of the chaise lounges. Leaning back with his eyes closed and a slight frown, he looked very much like he always did after his daily phone call.
"I think people generally take off their shirt and pants in this room," I joked, hoping to cheer him up.
He said nothing, but the tiny beginnings of a smile formed on his lips. They never really got to a full grin, but for a moment he seemed happier.
"Is everything okay, Tristan?"
Opening his eyes, he sighed and sat up. "I need a drink." Before I could say anything in reply, he was up and gone from the pool leaving me standing there alone. When I caught up to him, he'd poured himself another double scotch and was doing his best to get the alcohol into his system as quickly as possible.
I stood in the doorway of the living room and saw the sadness in him. It hit me in the middle of my chest and made me want to take him in my arms and never let him go. His posture screamed that he was dealing with something that weighed on his mind. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room, his shoulders drooped and his head tilted back. He watched me approach him, but I had the sense he was far away and looking right through me.
"You can talk to me, Tristan. I'm more than just your in-house art expert," I said sweetly as I ran my fingertip over his closely cut hair. "I hate to see you so unhappy."
Those deep brown eyes looked up at me and he said, "It's nothing I can't handle, Nina. Don't worry about me."
I was worried, though. The drinking, the frown, the phone calls that seemed to affect him more and more. Bending down, I kissed the top of his head, loving the feel of his soft hair against my lips. "I don't like seeing you like this, Tristan," I whispered.
He caressed my arm and gave me a forced smile. "It'll be fine. Once we're in Venice, everything will be better."
I hoped what he said was true, but I feared there was something slowly coming between us—something that he wanted to keep hidden but was gradually separating him from me. Later that night as he held me in his arms after we'd made love, nearly all traces of whatever was troubling him were gone and he was the sexy and charming man I'd fallen in love with. He played with my hair as he always did when I laid my head on his chest, wrapping it around his finger and then releasing it again and again, while he told me about his first time visiting Venice years ago as a teenage boy, long before he was the owner of Richmont hotels.
"You sound like you had a great time."
"I did. It was one of the best times I had with my father. It was just the two of us that time. Taylor and my mother stayed behind because he got sick at the last minute, so for one of the few times in my life, it was just me and my father."
There was something unsettling, something darker in his voice as he talked about how his father had spent the entire week in meetings as he'd wandered around the city alone. His words were all about how much he enjoyed Venice and the freedom to explore it at the age of sixteen, but beneath them was an emotion I didn't think even he knew was there. I listened as he recounted stories of late nights on the Piazza San Marco with girls he barely knew and his first night of drinking while he laughed at his youthful foolishness, yet all the time his left hand rested on the bed balled into a tight fist.
I kissed over the ridges of his stomach, loving the feel of his body against my lips. "Am I going to have to worry about you and Venetian girls on this trip, Casanova?"
"No, I promise to behave this time," he joked.
Sliding up his body, I kissed him on the lips. "I love it when you smile like that. I like to think that it's a smile you save only for me."
"You've seen pictures of me, haven't you? I don't ever smile for them."
I placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. "Good. I like that."
Tristan cradled my face in his hands. "You're the only person in the world who's allowed to know that I'm nice. Everyone else thinks I'm that cold man who shows up at work and those charity things I have to attend."
"So if I told your other employees how you are with me they'd be surprised?"
"I don't usually talk to the people who work for me. I have managers and assistants for that. In fact, you're the only person who works for me that I speak to."
I wrinkled my nose at his distinctly elitist comment. "I guess little ole' me should feel blessed."
He either didn't pick up on my sarcasm or didn't care to pay attention to it. "I don't know about blessed, but you certainly can consider yourself special."
"Oh, can I?"
Sliding his hands down to cup my ass, he pulled me into him. "Yes. You are the only person I smile for and the only one I sleep with. I think those are two very good reasons to think you're special."
I wanted to say "I love you" at that moment as he smiled up at me and held me close, but I didn't. It wasn't fear of rejection now, but I didn't want to ruin things between us. He probably knew how I felt even though I hadn't said it, and in my heart, I believed he loved me. That we hadn't said it didn't mean a thing. They were just words. We told each other every day with our actions that we loved each other, and I was content with that.
"We should get some sleep. Venice waits for us tomorrow," I whispered as I rolled off him onto the bed.
In my ear, he whispered, "Good night, Nina," as he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to him.
I brought his ha
nd to my lips and kissed it gently. "Good night, Tristan."
I love you.
I twirled around the living room in our suite at Tristan's hotel in Venice, my eyes straining to open as wide as possible to take everything in. Nearly nine hours on the plane and even though I hadn't slept the whole time, I was keyed up and eager to see as much of Venice as I could that day.
"It's gorgeous! I can't believe I'm here in Venice and this incredible hotel is yours," I gushed. "No wonder you love this place!"
Every wall I set my gaze on was more beautiful than the last. Frescoes and reliefs adorned the walls, evidence of the expert artistic hands of Venetian craftsmen from long ago.
Tristan stopped my turning and stood behind me with his arms around my waist. "I'm glad you like it. It really is nice, isn't it?"
Turning in his hold, I looked up at him and couldn't believe how understated he was about all of the beauty around us. "Nice doesn't do it justice. It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen. I can't believe this is yours."
"Aw, shucks," he teased. "It's nothing."
"Don't get all humble on me now. This is extraordinary. I don't think I have the words to describe how extraordinary this is."
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Then get ready to be speechless when I show you the balcony."
I followed him out the enormous glass doors to a balcony that overlooked the Grand Canal of Venice. Gondoliers steered their boats through the water past hundreds year old pink and gold colored gothic buildings. These were the places I'd spent hours fantasizing about as an undergrad art student, and here I was staring across the water at them from my very own balcony.
"Oh my God, Tristan...it's the most incredible view I've ever seen. Thank you."
He said nothing and after a few minutes of staring at the beauty in front of me, I turned to see him watching me. "What? Am I gushing too much?"
Shaking his head, he smiled. "No. I'm happy you love this like you do. And I'm happy I'm the one who could give you this."
He kissed me so tenderly I thought I might cry. There I was standing in a scene straight out of a picture with a man unlike anyone I'd ever met and he was saying he was happy because he'd made me happy. If there was a luckier woman than me, I couldn't imagine how.
"I thought we'd visit the museums tomorrow. Would you like that?" he asked as he nuzzled my neck. "I figure it's about time I see some art in this city."
"I'd love that! Is it too late to go today?"
Tristan lifted his head from kissing my shoulder and cocked one eyebrow. "Aren't you tired from the flight?"
"No way. I'm in Venice, baby. I could probably stay up the whole time we're here."
"Well, I'm exhausted. Plane rides do that to me. I thought we could stay in tonight and have dinner before we spend some more time out here on the balcony."
I knew the flight had been stressful for him. Each time we flew anywhere, he grew quiet. More than once on the flight there, I'd noticed his knuckles were nearly white as his hands tightly gripped the armrests on his seat. It wasn't surprising after what he'd been through.
Standing on my toes, I stretched to kiss him on the cheek. "I think that sounds perfect."
That smile I loved came out and he hugged me tightly. "Good. I'm going to speak to the concierge, but I'll be back in a few minutes. You stay and enjoy the view."
"Yes, sir. I can do that, sir," I joked.
"Sir? Be careful. I hear your boss is a real bastard. Seems he's miserable to his employees. Never smiles, I hear."
"Oh no. He's nothing like that. They just don't know the real man. I'm not worried. He's pretty fantastic, actually."
Tristan turned to leave and stopped as he opened the suite door. "Just pretty fantastic?"
"Okay, he's extraordinary, but he doesn't flaunt his extraordinariness all the time," I said with a wink.
After he left, I turned back to look at the view from our balcony. That's how I thought of things. Our balcony. It had a romantic ring to it. Leaning against the wrought iron railing, I scanned the canal below and saw couples in love on their gondola rides enjoying the beautiful Venice evening. It was the most enchanting thing I'd ever seen in person, and I felt like I needed to pinch myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming.
I didn't know how long I stood there, but when I finally looked up from the romantic scene below, the sky was dark and the stars that twinkled overhead made it look like the perfect painting. The sound of the suite door closing signaled Tristan's return, and I turned around to see not only him but three uniformed waiters with trays full of food.
He opened his arms wide as the men set the table across the room. "A feast fit for a queen, my lady."
I was embarrassed for a moment, but the waiters didn't seem to care who was in the room, so I took Tristan's outstretched hand and let him kiss me in front of them. "It's so much food."
"Enough for my queen." Tristan looked past me. "Thank you, gentlemen."
Turning, I saw the three men bow and leave us with a table full of food. Fruits, vegetables, meats, breads, and desserts covered the five foot round table, leaving no room for either of us to place a plate down to eat. Looking at Tristan, I asked, "Where are we eating? You've gotten enough food for a queen and her entire court."
"I like the idea of dinner in bed. Breakfast shouldn't have all the fun."
At times like this when he was utterly charming and funny, I couldn't help but smile. He really was adorable. "Dinner in bed it is then. What does one wear to such an event?"
Taking my hand, he led me to the bedroom and turned me around so I faced away from him. His fingers tugged the zipper down on the back of my dress, and he whispered in my ear, "Nothing. Dinner in bed is definitely a no-dress affair."
My dress fell to the floor and I turned around to face him to slide his suit coat off his shoulders. "I like how this dinner is shaping up already." A few gentle pulls on his perfect Windsor knotted tie and I tossed it on the bed nearby. As I unbuttoned his black dress shirt to reveal his solid chest and stunning abs, I couldn't help but lick my lips. He was like a Greek god standing there in front of me.
He looked down at me with eyes full of desire as I slid my fingers beneath the waist of his pants. In a needy voice, he groaned, "Maybe we'll have dessert first."
Chapter Fifteen
My fingers grazed the head of his already excited cock, and I heard him take a sharp breath in above me. As I stroked his silky skin, I looked up to watch him close his eyes and tilt his head back. I loved seeing him like this. He was sex incarnate, and I wanted to feel every inch of him on me.
He moaned softly when I unzipped his pants and took his cock in my hand. He'd gone commando, so I slid his pants over his hips and they fell quickly around his ankles. This was what had been in my mind that first night when he'd asked me what I was thinking, and now I wanted to show him exactly what he made me want.
Dropping to my knees, I ran my hand from the base of his cock to the head and back again as I watched his face relax in pleasure. I slid the mushroom-shaped head into my mouth and sucked gently as I eased my lips down over his cock until they touched my hand gripping the base. He tasted incredible on my tongue, like a slightly salty treat I'd waited too long to enjoy.
He buried his hands in my hair and began to move my head at a rhythm both of us liked. Humming against his skin as my mouth slid down over him again, I sent vibrations up and down his cock, making him moan a noise like I'd never heard from him.
"Oh, God, Nina...don't stop. Just like that."
His voice was hoarse and strained from desire, and I loved the sound of it. I made him sound like that. Me. I wanted to hear him tell me how much he loved it again and again. It made me wet just listening to the need in every word. The need for me to give him what he so desperately wanted.
I looked up to watch him as I took him into me, loving the expression on his face as he watched me. Leaning my head back, I slid him out of my mouth, my hand still stroking his hard, silken shaf
t. He was thick and long, and I licked my lips at the feel of him so heavy in my palm.
"Fuck, don't stop," he moaned. There was almost a painful sound to his voice now.
My tongue slid over the head and I licked around him like a lollypop as my hand cupped his balls. His eyes grew wide with desire before he closed them and a strained look crossed his face. "Baby, you're killing me."
"Time for good boyfriends to get what they want then."
I drew him into my mouth slowly, my tongue darting over the area just below the tip of his cock. His breath left his lips in a hiss, and he whispered deeply, "Faster."
Humming against his skin again, I took as much of him as I could into my mouth and sucked gently as I moved up and down his cock. His grip on my hair tightened as he worked to direct my efforts to exactly where he wanted them, sending a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain shooting across my scalp and down my neck.
His movements grew to short, stabbing motions into me, and I knew he was getting close. My hand slid faster around the base, giving every inch of his cock pleasure. I wanted to feel him lose control, to feel him experience that release that came from letting go.
He sounded like he was on the verge of losing his voice as he whispered in a deep, hoarse rasp, "Nina, much more and I won't be able to hold back anymore."
I stared into his eyes so wild now and prayed he understood how much I wanted him. All of him. Don't hold back, baby.
His cock twitched and grew larger, telling me it was time. I relaxed my body to take as much as he offered. He pulled my head down onto him, exciting me more than I'd ever thought possible, and my throat accepted everything he gave as he exploded into me.
When he finally pulled out of my mouth, my legs were weak and shaking and I sat back on my heels to catch my breath. Closing my eyes, I got my bearings as he removed the last of his clothes. His lips brushed mine and I opened my eyes to see him kneeling in front of me.
"See what you do to me? You bring me to my knees."
I smiled at his confession. "Are you happy?"
