Her Venice Affair (The Albury Affairs)

by OW, Christina

  When she was done, she sat up, wiped the tears away and promised herself to never ever shed another tear for Allan Sinclair.

  She wrote Allan a goodbye note and placed it in the case that once held a diamond pendant—which was now in one of the six suitcases she was taking. Well, it wasn’t exactly a goodbye note but it was bound to give him the shock of his life.

  She hadn’t figured out how she was going to get to the airport with all six suitcases of clothes, shoes, and jewelry, but she was determined. She’d figure it out. Maybe I should call Von, he’d help.

  “What’s the matter, bella?”

  Riana jumped quickly turning around. “Anthony, what are you doing here?”

  He stepped into the room, completely blocking her only exit. Riana felt nervous and scared. She didn’t want to be alone with Anthony. Allan, why did you have to leave me alone?

  He looked down at the suitcases. “Going somewhere, cara?”

  Riana took a step back, bumping into the bed. She looked down at it then looked up and met his leering smile. She didn’t like that smile. She liked the look on his face less. What she liked least was the step he took toward her.

  * * * *

  “Allan! Allan!”

  Allan looked up at Vittorio. “What?” he barked.

  Vittorio raised a brow, taken aback by his hostile tone. “Trouble in paradise?”

  Allan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “None of your damn business!”

  “We are trying to set up a command structure for Casa Italiano and you are not paying attention. You are just pouting!”

  Allan shot him a sizzling glare. “I don’t pay you to worry about my personal affairs!”

  Vittorio leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed at his chest. “When you asked me to hire a bodyguard for bella rośe it became my business.”

  When Allan didn’t respond, Vittorio groaned. “Tell me you didn’t treat her like one of your insensibile amante?”

  Allan sighed. Riana was far from a coldhearted mistress, she was…no! That chapter was closed. It was time to move on. “We are done.”

  Vittorio shook his head disappointedly. “I’ll call someone to escort her to the airport. Tell me you at least gave her money to get her home?”

  “I deposited two hundred thousand dollars in her account this morning.”

  He’d thought about giving her more, around a million, but it didn’t feel right. He already knew she was going to throw a fit over the money and he wasn’t looking forward to that fight, especially after how he broke things off. That’s why he did it without telling her.

  Vittorio snorted. “Paid her like a high priced whore!”

  Allan shot out of his seat his body shaking with anger, but Vittorio just flicked his chin with the back of his fingers in an Italian insult. He took out his phone and called Von. It was a short conversation followed by a ‘where is she’ spat at Allan.

  “What do you care?”

  Vittorio shot out of his seat with a string of Italian curses and yelled back, “Because she is not in the hotel and wherever she is, she is alone and Anthony is nowhere to be found you figlio di puttana, fucking son of a bitch!”

  Allan didn’t wait to hear anymore insults. He ran like his life depended on it back to the dock. How could he be so stupid as to leave her alone, especially in the dark? He was in such a hurry to get away from her he had tied the yacht and rushed away without a second thought. Now Riana was alone and he could only pray that Anthony wasn’t with her. He just found out he had lost everything, including his villa and according to Mr. Torino, he was in a murderous rage.

  He felt his heart drop when he noticed there were no lights turned on the yacht.

  Maybe she cried herself to sleep, he tried to rationalize.

  Or maybe Anthony had gotten to her.

  Oh God, please no!

  “Riana, Riana!” He yelled out her name, his chest screaming for air and his legs burning from exhaustion at the long run to the yacht and the sheer panic he was feeling.

  He boarded the dark yacht and stopped in his tracks when he smelled smoke. It was coming from the lower cabin. His heart dropped. The kitchen and the bedroom were right next to each other. If the gas cylinder were to blow, and Riana was down there, she would have no way out.

  He rushed for the stairs only to stop and back track when he came face to face with a gun coming up the steps.

  “Signore Sinclair!” Anthony began in a friendly tone and signaled for Allan to step back. But Allan couldn’t do that. Riana could be down there.

  And Anthony just came from there…

  Allan felt lightheaded. Was she…she couldn’t already be… Oh God no!

  “Step back or your puttana will die!”

  Allan dragged in a shaky relieved breath and stepped back.

  “You didn’t listen, Signore Sinclair,” he started in a singsong voice. “You stole Casa Italiano from me, and I’ve done the same.”

  “What?”

  “You took what is important to me so I took what is important to you,” he announced with a sadistic laugh.

  Alan felt his chest crush into his heart. She couldn’t be…she just couldn’t be!

  “The beautiful Riana is dead. But I made sure to taste her wonderful charms before I put a bullet in her kind warm heart.” He kissed his fingers. “Deliziosa!”

  “You are lying!” Allan yelled.

  He refused to believe she was dead. He refused to believe Anthony had violated her. Riana was strong. She would have fought. She would have found a way to get away from him.

  With new hope, Allan asked, “She isn’t even here is she?”

  Anthony shook his head with a tsk. “Wishful thinking my friend.”

  Allan held onto hope. “She would have fought you! She would rather be dead than have you touch her!”

  Anthony shrugged. “A woman in love is very willing to do anything for her man. All I had to do was tell her if she refused, I would kill you.” He chuckled. “She let me act out all the fantasies I had from the moment I saw her.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, his tongue running over his lips. “Mmm, I can still taste her…”

  Allan felt his body shake with rage. All he could see was red. He wanted blood for Riana and he was going to have it.

  “You bastard!” he yelled as he charged Anthony and tackled him to the ground. He punched Anthony twice in the jaw before he felt a burning heat in his side and Anthony threw him off.

  Anthony pointed to the stairway brushing his sleeve over his mouth to wipe the blood off. Allan followed his direction and he felt his heart stop. He could already see the flames come up the steps.

  “Cremation was the best way. Such beauty should not rot.”

  Allan swiped Anthony’s feet from under him and Anthony dropped to the ground. He then launched himself on Anthony, trying to pry the gun from his hold as they rolled on the ground. Two shots went off. Allan felt a burning in his ribs as Anthony went still under him.

  He then stood up, ignoring the discomfort in his side and ribs, and rushed for the blazing steps. The heat more than the flames stopped him; it was so hot he could feel his eyes burn from the heat.

  There was no way he could get down there without getting burned.

  But Riana is down there.

  He launched himself down the steps and fell at the bottom with a heavy thud. He rolled on his hands and knees and the hot floor burned. He leaned against the wall and pushed himself up. He could barely stand up. The pain in his ribs and side were blinding.

  He swayed, fighting both the effects of the smoke and the dizziness from the pain and staggered toward the bedroom. He got as far as the kitchen door before it exploded, knocking him down.

  There was a persistent ringing in his ear as he lay under the door. His head hurt and his shoulder felt like it was on fire, but they weren’t going to deter him from getting to Riana.

  He struggled to crawl from under the door, pushing forward when he felt something wrap
around his ankles yanking him back.

  “No! Stop! Let me go!”

  His please fell on deaf ears as his rescuer threw him over his shoulder and ran up the blazing steps.

  “Stop, I need to save Riana!” he yelled, pounding on the giant’s back, but he wouldn’t let Allan go.

  His rescuer jumped off the boat and took off fast like he was carrying zero weight on his shoulder, taking Allan further and further away from Riana.

  In a last attempt, Allan kneed the giant in his chest, forcing him to drop him.

  Allan stumbled on to his feet and moved back toward the burning yacht. “Riana!”

  The loud explosion threw him back.

  He fell on his back with a pained hiss. He turned to the large amber flames and watched as it took the love of his life away. “Oh God…Riana!”

  He forced himself on his hands and knees and crawled toward his love. “I have to save her. Riana, wait for me. Please don’t die. I’m coming to save you.”

  He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him back. “Signore Sinclair, she is gone!”

  Allan tried to fight him off but he felt so weak, he could hardly breathe. “No…she’s not! I have to…save her!”

  Vittorio knelt before him. “Dio! Von, move your arm away. His shoulder is burnt.” He pressed one hand on Allan’s ribs and the other on his side. “Dio! You’ve been shot Allan, stay still!”

  The moment Allan was released from the shoulder hold he tried to escape, his eyes trained on his target. He needed to get to the yacht before it was completely incinerated.

  Allan felt Vittorio push him to the ground, halting his escape. “Allan, she’s dead. There is nothing you can do.”

  “No! You don’t…understand. I have to…save her, so I can…tell her that I love her and I…want her with me…forever.”

  “Allan, she already knew that.”

  Allan turned to Vittorio and met the anguish in his eyes. He’d given up on her, but Allan couldn’t. Not yet. Not ever.

  Allan pushed his hands away and struggled to sit up, “Let…me…go!”

  What was left of the yacht exploded again and Allan’s heart did as well, shattering and sinking him into darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two and a half years later.

  Matthew looked across the jet at Allan, shell-shocked. Who was this guy? He couldn’t possibly be the Allan Sinclair?

  The man he had known for twelve years couldn’t possibly be the same one sitting across from him now.

  The Allan he knew was always sharp, poised, and elegant. He exuded power and commanded the attention of a room by just walking into it. He was imposing, both by body statue of a six foot three build with broad shoulders to match and by nature of how he spoke and how he moved. Even a glance from Allan could reduce a man in size. There was always a shine in his eyes that sparkled more in his rare moments of mischief. A subtle smile on his lips would either tighten and turn up in a sign that he was quickly losing his temper, or spread in a wide grin that Matthew’s own wife had described as breathtaking when he was happy.

  He was Allan Sinclair, billionaire and businessman extraordinaire and as cutthroat a businessman as he was a lover. Which is why Matthew was shocked as to how the loss of a woman had turned him into…whoever this character was that sat before him.

  Maybe it was guilt, seeing that Riana died due to a business deal gone bad, that ate away at his best friend’s soul and turned him into a shadow of himself.

  Matthew looked at Allan again. Gosh, it was hard to believe that his friend had actually fallen in love, something Matthew knew Allan had sworn off altogether. It was even harder to believe he’d become the man he had sworn never to be…his own father.

  Matthew took in the man that sat across from him, with his shoulder length hair that served as a shield, obscuring his face when he leaned forward, his body folding into itself. With that and the beard that covered half his face, he would have never recognized Allan when the man at the harbor pointed him out. And the fact that he was wearing a dirty white T-shirt, black shorts, and sandals made Matthew do a double take.

  The man had been living on his new yacht—a very small boat and not befitting his previous elegance—and only went to land once a month when he needed supplies and gas. It was mere chance that Matthew had caught him.

  When Matthew had gone to him, Allan had stopped walking, standing still with his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. He didn’t say a word to Matthew. He just waited, like he was waiting Matthew to say his peace then move out of his way so that he could go on with his day.

  Dante Vittorio, Allan’s Italian lawyer and self-appointed guardian, had told Matthew before he left that this was how his friend now responded to people. Matthew couldn’t believe it. Seeing it for himself still boggled his mind. They had tried to use Dante to convince Allan to go back home—as a sort of way to resurrect him from the dead and back into American society—but Allan had made it quite clear by action, since he wouldn’t speak to Dante, that he had no intention of leaving Venice.

  Matthew wasn’t sure exactly what Allan blamed Dante for—saving his life or refusing to turn Casa Italiano into rubbles. But now, the once near bankrupt chain of hotels that Melody had renamed Anima Gemella—which meant soul mates in honor of her parents and recently Allan and Riana—was thriving. Dante had hired competent managers for each branch and, despite the initial bad press surrounding Allan and Riana’s murders by the former owner Anthony Torino, the hotels were doing perfectly.

  It was because of Melody, Allan’s worried sister that Matthew had forced Allan onto the plane back to the States. That and the fact that his ‘death’ was beginning to affect Sinclair Enterprise negatively. They had allowed Allan to remain dead since he woke up from his four-month coma and gave him privacy to mourn, but the time had come for him to resurrect and take back the reins of Sinclair Enterprise.

  Melody wasn’t ready to lose the only family member she had left and Matthew wasn’t going to allow his best friend to wither away without a fight. Matthew had forcefully put him on the jet back to the States and he was going to do exactly that—fight for him—every day of his life until Allan began living again.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Matthew wasn’t sure if the weak voice was a figment of his imagination or if Allan had actually spoken.

  “What was that?”

  Allan turned his head and fixed his deserted eyes on him. “Why are you doing this?”

  Matthew unbuckled his belt and moved to the aisle seat on his side of the jet. “Because we need you, Allan.”

  He shook his head and turned back to look at his lap. “You are better off without me. Trust me on that.”

  Matthew sighed. Getting Allan out of his rut wasn’t going to be easy. At least he’s speaking.

  “You are all Melody has left. You can’t do this to her.”

  Matthew saw Allan lift a charred piece of paper in his hand and he gently and adoringly drew circles on it with his fingers.

  “She was all Reno had left, and I took her away from him.”

  Matthew moved to the seat next to him. “I’m sure he’ll understand once we find him and—”

  “No.” Allan’s voice hitched. “I can’t face him. I can’t admit that my failure to protect our family killed them. I’d rather be dead…I wish I were dead,” he confessed in a deadpan voice.

  He went silent and when Matthew was about to speak again, he looked up. Matthew swallowed a gasped when he saw tears in Allan’s eyes, his dead eyes possessing a flicker of life that spoke only of his pain.

  “Why didn’t he let me die with them?” he whispered.

  This couldn’t go on any longer. Matthew grabbed Allan’s shoulders and shook him, “Listen to me. You didn’t kill Riana nor did you kill Anthony. Furthermore, that bastard had it coming!” Matthew gentled his voice. “And Riana…oh God Riana didn’t deserve to die the way she did. It was unfortunate. But you need to move on with your
life.”

  Allan shook his head, dislodging a stream of tears. “You don’t understand. Nobody does. I failed them, Matthew, and there is nothing that you can say that can change that.” Then he turned away and looked out the window in silence.

  Matthew let out a defeated sigh. He placed his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands and that’s when he saw it, the word that Allan had been circling with his fingers.

  “Oh God, no.” Finally, Matthew understood his pain.

  Allan had been shot in the side, a through and through, the bullet narrowly missing his kidney. The bullet had rammed into his rib, breaking a piece of bone off, forcing it into his lung, and causing it to collapse. He’d suffered a second degree burn on his right shoulder and first degree burns on his hands and knees. The long scar on his hairline professed the severe concussion he’d suffered that had caused a brain swell, sending him into his coma.

  All those physical injuries would never compare to the pain of his emotional wounds.

  Emotional wounds caused by knowing he could not save the love of his life from being sexually assaulted by a monster. Or that he couldn’t save her from being killed by a bullet through the heart and finally have her remains incinerated on his yacht.

  Emotional wounds caused by knowing that he couldn’t save the love of his life, the same woman who was carrying his child inside her.

  Pregnant. That was the word Allan circled tenderly with his fingers.

  Matthew understood now. Allan felt he had failed not only Riana but their unborn baby.

  Oh God, no man could ever survive that. Matthew knew for certain if anything were to happen to his wife Amy and their son Mark and he was but a few feet away from where they lay dying…

  Matthew placed his hand on his friend’s arm. How Allan had survived two years without taking his own life was a miracle. How in the hell had the note survived the fire?

  Matthew leaned closer and re-read the note.