by Vivien Vale
Then, when he arrives, we’ll have a magical time together.
“Wow,” Allison’s staring at my sketch. “That’s great. I don’t understand why you don’t—”
“You know why,” I cut her off.
I don’t want to talk about the reasons for me not drawing openly and more often right now. Right now, I want to enjoy Venice.
“Looks like we can finally check out where we’re staying.” I point to her left.
The gondolier has brought us alongside the landing pier of the hotel.
I feel a lump in the back of my throat as I take in the magnificence of this architectural masterpiece.
No wonder the Clooneys chose this place as their wedding venue.
Allison grabs our bags and suitcases and hands them to the gondolier who expertly unloads them. She follows nimbly.
I take another moment to inhale the true beauty of this place.
Without paying attention, I start to walk toward the edge of the gondola. By now, all I can think about is my wedding and the reception. The magic is enveloping me.
I take another step and move my upper body forward to grab the outstretched hand of the gondolier. And then, it all happens very quickly.
Instead of finding solid ground under my right foot, there’s nothing—and with the right foot having no traction, the inevitable happens.
For the briefest of moments, I float through the air.
It’s a wonderful, weightless, and magical experience.
Then the world goes black, and cold assaults my senses.
I gasp. I hear someone yell my name—and then everything’s quiet.
Nothing.
Panic sets in, and I throw my arms around me wildly.
Seconds later, I surface again. I splutter and cough and gulp for air.
Disoriented, I try and turn my head and work out which way to go.
Fear grips my heart as I wonder if a gondola will run over me, when suddenly, strong hands take a hold of me.
“Don’t worry, love,” a melodic deep baritone voice says into my ears. “I’ve got you now. Don’t fight me. You’ll be alright.”
And before I really know what’s going on, I’m being hoisted onto dry ground.
My rescuer follows, and I take a look at him.
He’s drop dead stunning. So good-looking, in fact, I feel myself go weak at the knees.
I start to shiver.
“Here we go,” he says as he wraps me up in a blanket. His hands rub my back, and I feel the world spin around me.
“A strong drink over here,” he calls, and any protest dies on my lips.
Someone hands me a crystal glass with amber liquid in it.
“Drink it,” the handsome stranger urges. “It’ll make you feel better.”
As soon as the whiskey runs down my tongue and throat, fire ignites within me, and I cough and splutter again.
“Thank you,” I finally croak and am surprised to find I’m starting to feel better.
“You should watch getting out of those gondolas in future. The canal’s not exactly the place you want to go bathing in.” He winks, and I feel like I might drown in those eyes of his.
I smile, but can’t find anything to say.
“I’m Dante, by the way,” he says.
I try and make sense of where I’ve heard the name before.
Dante
Okay, I admit it. I’m taking full fucking advantage of the situation.
Who wouldn’t?
The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen was about to drown in the river. I jumped in and rescued her, and now I just need to make sure she’s fine.
I mean, falling into the canal in Venice can have long-term consequences. Not to mention I put my own safety in jeopardy.
Millions of bugs are probably attached to me right now, waiting to plan their next move and to attack any vulnerability they find in me.
But I won’t give them a chance. No fucking way.
I’m fighting fit, and as soon as I’ve got this exquisite creature in my arms sorted out, I’ll head straight to my room and take the longest fucking shower to wash every last bit of scum off me.
With any luck, she’ll give me her number and invite me for a thank you drink at the bar. Once we’ve had our first drink, who knows where the night will end. I can feel movement in my wet trousers already.
“You’re Dante?” her gorgeous eyes are boring into me. It’s as if she’s trying to look right into my soul.
I nod.
At the same time, I keep rubbing her back with one hand, while the other is strategically placed around her waist. A little compensation for the effort of risking my own life.
“The Dante?” her eyes seem to grow even larger as she asks the question.
Naturally, the question throws me. What does she mean the Dante? How many are there?
“Sorry,” she mumbles before I get a chance to say anything. “I’m Nicole, and this is my best friend, Allison. We’re here.”
Now it’s my fucking turn to interrupt.
“Ryan’s bride? Ryan McCready’s bride?”
The second she nods, I let go of her. I can’t be touching Ryan’s bride.
Man, oh man. What are the chances? I take a step back and look at her a little closer.
Ryan’s never shown me a picture of his bride-to-be. As I take in her beauty, I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. This is one hot chick my best friend had caught himself.
With her t-shirt dripping wet, it leaves nothing to the imagination as far as those delicious tits of hers are concerned. Similarly, her skirt is soaked and clinging to her hips and ass.
I take a deep breath.
She’s off limits, I remind myself and clear my throat.
“Sorry,” I say, though I’m not exactly sure what I’m apologizing for. I didn’t do anything. I simply fished her out of the canal and rubbed her dry a little. Ryan wouldn’t mind, would he?
I furrow my brow.
Why is Ryan not here? Where is the prick, anyway? If he were here, none of this would’ve happened.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Nicole says and gives me this beautiful smile.
Like the gravitational pull of a black hole, the smile sucks me right in. I feel my insides melt and my brain is about to go on vacation and leave my dick in charge.
Get a grip, I remind myself and tear my eyes away from the most exposed parts of her body.
“Anytime,” I reply, and I mean it. I’d walk through fire to rescue this damsel in distress. In fact, how am I going to rescue her from fucking marrying Ryan?
What’d he do to catch her, anyway? Was a love potion involved? It’s the only rational explanation I can think of. There can’t be any other explanation as to why a woman of Nicole’s beauty, poise and elegance would fall for Ryan.
“You staying here?” The question is stupid, and I kick myself mentally for asking it. Ryan fucking told me they were staying here, which is why I’m here.
“We are,” replies Nicole. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to think the question strange.
“Have you checked in yet?”
Nicole shakes her head.
“Shall we?” I ask and offer her my arm.
There’s a slight hesitation.
“I’ll send someone from the hotel to collect your things.”
Although there are a couple of other people ahead of us, an efficient looking man waves us over to another part of the long check-in counter.
“Posso auiturati?”
Nicole just stares and seems totally lost for words. Her friend, Allison, just giggles. Obviously, they don’t know any Italian.
“Si, grazie. I hope you can help us,” I reply and pull out my wallet. “I’ve got a reservation in my name and these ladies are also checking in.” As I’m speaking, I’m pulling out my credit card and driver’s license.
Extensive travel on my part means I’m familiar with the identification requirements, and I hand over the requisite documents
before I’m asked.
Nicole rummages around her handbag.
I put my hand over hers. Partly to stop her, and partly a fucking excuse to touch her again.
“Don’t worry, Nicole. I’ll look after it.”
There go her eyes again. A cocktail of emotions travel through them. I can tell she’s not sure about this.
“It’s the job of the best man to help the bride and the maid-of-honor check in and pay for anything associated with the wedding. Scout’s honor,” I finish, holding up my right hand and putting my left one over my heart.
This brings the smile back to Nicole’s face, which makes me happy. Whatever I’m about to spend in dollars, or euros, will be worth it.
“If you’re sure,” mumbles Nicole, and I nod vigorously before giving her a wink.
“Ryan wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You have room number 24, and the lovely Segnorinas are right next door in number 23,” the friendly Italian man behind the counter hands me two sets of key.
I can’t believe my luck. I’ve got the room right next door.
Of course I know nothing is going to happen; she’s the bride of my best friend, after all. But it will be handy to keep an eye on the girls.
“You should probably go get out of those clothes and wash all those nasty bugs off you. The canals aren’t exactly known for their bathing quality water.”
Nicole looks down at herself and tucks a loose strand of her long hair behind her ear.
“I guess so,” she sounds uncertain.
In fact, she oozes insecurity, and I have to exercise my self-control to make sure I don’t just wrap my arms around her to comfort her. Where the fuck was this fiancé of hers to look after her?
We take the elevator together and get out on the first floor.
Nicole opens the door to their room and hovers on the threshold.
“By the way, the canal isn’t the only thing in Venice filled with nasties. Around this time of year, crime is on the increase with all the tourists in town. If you want to go anywhere, I’ll be your guide and protector.”
I can tell Nicole’s mulling over the words. The dedicated bride that she is, she seems to be struggling with something.
“Only until Ryan gets here, and then he can be your knight in shining armor.”
And just as I’d hoped, this brings another radiant smile to her face.
“Deal,” she says, and I allow myself to bathe in that soft voice of hers.
Before I can say anything else, my mobile buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and frown.
It seems to be a facetime call.
According to the display, it’s coming from the city of Rome. Nicole gives me a wave, and I press the green answer button as she shuts the door.
As soon as the image becomes clear, I nearly scream and drop the phone.
Filling up the screen is a backside. And not just any backside, it’s Ryan’s.
Now he moves to the side a little and I catch a glimpse of a black-haired woman. There’s grunting, heavy breathing, and the whispering of someone’s name.
“Ryan, fuck me, please, fuck me…harder…Ryan…”
I don’t want to nor need to see or hear more. I quickly press the red end call button.
With fumbling fingers, I open my own room and rush inside. Then I go to the bathroom sink, and lean over it.
For some reason, I feel like throwing up.
What the fuck was that about?
I suppose it at least explains Ryan’s absence from Venice.
It takes me a while to process the significance of what I’d just been forced to fucking witness.
Asshole Ryan is in Rome, fucking some woman while his bride-to-be is in Venice.
Bride-to-be has no idea.
What does that mean for me, the best man? Do I tell her, or keep the Intel to myself?
I take a deep breath, and get out of my wet clothes.
As the warm water of the shower assaults my body, I keep asking myself one very important question.
How do I look after Nicole and make sure she finds out what Ryan is up to?
Nicole
“Have you ever seen such beautiful eyes?” Allison’s got that dreamy, faraway look in her eyes, the one where she’s already having sex with the guy before he’s even asked her out on a date. I know it well. I’ve seen it before.
“I have,” I reply, knowing she’s not listening.
“You haven’t!” she scoffs, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Have, too. Ryan’s got nice eyes.”
Allison rolls her eyes so much they look like they might come out of her head.
“Nice. What does that even mean?” she’s waving her hairbrush around. “Most people have nice eyes. But Dante has gorgeous, heart-melting eyes.”
She sighs.
“You know how chocolate melts in your mouth and sends millions of explosive feel-good sensations through your body? That’s what his eyes are like.”
To my own horror, Dante’s face comes to mind with incredible ease and speed. Ryan’s face refuses to materialize.
No. No. No.
He doesn’t have heart-melting eyes. His eyes are no more special than Ryan’s.
“And did you see his butt? Those two cheeks…ohhh…I just want to squeeze them.”
“Careful, or you’ll start drooling,” I warn her and turn off the shower. She hands me a towel.
“I bet his arms were ever so strong, and his chest all muscle-y.”
“Newsflash, Ally, I’m about to be married. My husband-to-be is called Ryan. And no, I don’t find his best man attractive.” I inject as much force into my voice as I can muster.
“Blah, blah, blah. Repeat after me. Dante is nothing short of a sex god.”
Without thinking, I throw my towel at my best friend.
“I will not. I’ll tell you that I do agree he’s handsome. There. Will you give it a rest now?”
A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she throws the towel right back at me.
“Oh, so you agree he’s good looking?”
“Can we talk about something else?”
Allison follows me out of the bathroom into our over-sized bedroom. Here, I rummage around my suitcase and pull out a fresh outfit.
“What about the way he jumped into the water to rescue you? I mean, I can’t see Ryan ever doing anything like that for you.”
“Why?” I pull on fresh underwear. “Of course he’d rescue me.”
I know I don’t sound as convinced as I should be.
“And,” Allison continues. “He got you some whiskey and a blanket, and made sure you were alright. I mean, have you ever met a more thoughtful and considerate man?”
“Ryan.”
“The way his pants clung to his body was amazing. You have to agree, there’s no man who’s got as sexy a body as Dante.”
“Ryan.”
“Ryan’s not sexy. He even has a little pot belly from all that alcohol he consumes.” Allison protests.
“Ryan is great. Ryan is wonderful. Ryan looks after me, and Ryan is going to marry me. End of story. Full stop. Finito.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Coffee? Tea?” Allison asks from the kitchen area and I welcome her change of topic.
“Coffee, please,” I join her and admire all the condiments left for us.
“The way his hands rubbed your back, I swear, I would’ve turned to jelly. You did look.”
“Ryan. Ryan. Ryan,” I interrupt.
She giggles.
“You should start the Dante fan club,” I tell her and wander over to the couch. On the way, I grab my mobile phone.
Still no message from Ryan.
I stare out the window to try and compose something in my head.
But all I can think of is Dante. The way his arms grabbed me, pulled me through the water before lifting me effortlessly out of the canal.
Hey, Ryan.
We’re at the hotel, and it’s grand. Can’t wait for you to
arrive.
I stare at the message and delete it again.
How many times do you send a message if the receiver doesn’t reply? I wish there was some text messaging etiquette book. Should I wait an hour or two, or more before I send another message?
I mean, I’ve already sent him four today…four in the space of a few hours. He’s sent none. Technically, he should be sending me a message or calling me to find out if I arrived safely.
I sigh.
“Here you go, gorgeous, your cup of coffee.”
Allison comes over to join me on the leather lounge. She sits beside me and curls her legs under her.
“Can you believe we’re finally here?”
I’m pleased to hear some excitement in her voice now as well. The entire trip, it’s been me who’s bursting with enthusiasm and Allison who’s played cool.
“I know. I wish Ryan was here.”
“Ryan. Honestly, remind me again what you see in that loser?” she holds out her left hand and brings her four fingers together and moves the thumb into a horizontal position to emphasize loser.
“Ally. You know he’s not a loser. He’s a…” I struggle to find the right words.
How do you describe a man like Ryan? I know he’s wealthy and important, but truth be told, I’ve got no idea what he actually does.
He seems to go away a lot. I think I’ve asked him what he does, but he’s replied with something vague like, no need to worry your pretty little head about such mundane matters. “He’s a loser,” repeats Allison, sipping on her hot coffee. “Dante, on the other hand, is an interesting, helpful and amazing man.”
“You say that because you’ve got the hots for him. Ryan is just as interesting and amazing. Anyway,” I decide to change my tactic. “How do you know he’s interesting and amazing?”
“Because he rescued you. Any man who jumps into a Venice canal to rescue a total stranger is amazing. He carried some brochures with him, one of which was information about art galleries in Venice. I would’ve thought you’d agree, anyone interested in art is interesting.”
I can feel her eyes on me.
My heart beats a little faster when I hear her mention art and Dante in the same breath.
How had she learned so much about the man in such a short amount of time?
“Ryan’s interested in art,” I start, then stop. I can’t recall what exactly Ryan is interested in. “Ryan’s interested in sports and cars.” I take a stab in the dark. Most men are into sports and cars.
