by J. S. Scott
“What happened at the party, Gio?”
“The truth was more disappointing than I was prepared for.”
Julia undid her seat belt and crossed over to him. She sat sideways on his lap and looped her arms around his neck.
He tensed beneath her, and for a second Julia wondered if he was going to ask her to get off him, but he didn’t. His arms closed around her, and he buried his face in her hair.
Julia pulled back and looked into his eyes. “You can tell me it’s none of my business . . .”
“It’s none of your business.”
“And I don’t need to know what you found out.”
“I have no intention of telling you.”
“But why not turn to your brothers? They were right there. You weren’t alone at the party.”
“There was no need to involve them.”
“I have a feeling they’re already involved, regardless of how much you keep from them.”
“Are you done?” he asked and moved her hair aside so he could kiss the side of her neck.
She pushed at his chest. This was what he did. He used sex to distract her. Does he really think he can distract me with—oh, that’s nice. Gio pushed one strap of her dress aside and slid a hand inside the neckline, gently cupping her bare breast.
Focus. This is important. “You shouldn’t shut people out just because things get complicated.”
An excited shiver ran down her back as she felt the bulge of his erection begin to throb against her thighs. He unzipped the back of her dress and lowered it, exposing both her breasts to his eager mouth. She gave in to the pleasure of it and buried her hands deep in his hair, holding his head as his mouth teased and worshipped her. We can continue this talk later.
Across the cabin of the plane the attendant coughed nervously, and then Julia heard the sound of the cockpit door opening. What had she seen? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as the heat of the moment enveloped both of them. Theirs was a need that overrode everything else, even modesty.
Gio picked Julia up and turned her so she straddled his lap, claiming her mouth possessively with his as he did. He pulled at both sides of her gown until the material was bunched around her waist. His deft fingers pushed the material of her silk panties aside and dove between her lower lips.
“I need you. Here. Now.”
Julia hastily unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside so she could run her hands over his muscular chest and down his rock-hard abs. Between hot kisses, Julia said, “God, yes.”
He claimed her mouth, plundering and demanding, all the while working her with his fingers until she was wet and eager for him. “Stand up,” he ordered.
She did. She would have done anything for him in that moment.
“Take your dress off.”
She pushed her dress the rest of the way down and stepped out of it, and her satin panties.
He laid a hand on her stomach. “You are so perfect.”
He stood and also stripped, then pushed her down in the chair and pulled her forward so only the edge of her ass stopped her from falling to the floor at his feet. He sat in the chair across from her, and took his hard cock in his own hand. “I want to see you come for me, Julia.”
Julia slid a hand into her own wet folds and rubbed her throbbing clit. She rubbed it with an increasing speed. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. As she did, she watched him stroke himself, up and down. Growing even larger.
She reached up and kneaded her own breast, imagining that it was his hand. Spread open before him, she felt his hot gaze on her sex like a caress. Her hand clenched as heat spread through her and she came to a shuddering orgasm while he watched.
He stood, sheathed himself in a condom then pulled her to her feet and turned her around so she was facing the chair. With one hand he bent her over. His first thrust was deep and powerful and she muffled her cries in her hand. He held her hips in place and thrust again. Deeper. Harder. Building heat and waves of pleasure on what she’d brought to herself.
Julia gripped the chair arms as he pounded into her from behind. He slowed and eased himself out, then thrust back into her, and she cried out again before she thought to muffle the sound. He repeated the move and she stopped caring who heard her. She wanted it again and again. When she finally came it was with such volume that she was sure someone would open the cockpit door to make sure they were still alive.
He joined her in the orgasm. Then withdrew, cleaned himself off, and pulled her into his lap.
She collapsed onto his bare chest, loving how his heart beat loudly in her ear . . . slowing as hers did when they both came regained their senses.
As sanity returned, so did Julia’s questions. He gave his body to her freely, but when it came to his heart he still closed her out. She stood and put on her dress, adjusting it so it covered her once again. Gio disposed of the condom and refastened his own clothing. Both rumpled and flushed, they stood facing each other.
Julia asked, “Where are we going?”
He sat and pulled her back onto his lap, this time tucking her against his broad chest. “Venice.”
The idea of visiting one of the few places of her dreams was enough to distract her. She sat up. “Are you serious? Oh, my God, Venice. I forgive you for making me miss the wedding.” He didn’t look nearly as happy as she did about the idea. “If you were hoping to take someone who wouldn’t be excited about it, you picked the wrong woman. I’ve always dreamed of going there. The architecture. The bridges. The gondolas. I could orgasm again just thinking about it.”
He gave her a small smile. “My competition is a city?”
Julia didn’t deny it. “Only one. There is something about it that has always called to me.”
He studied her face. “It called to my father, also. He owned a palazzo on the Grand Canal.”
“A palace? Right on the main canal? Does your family still own it?”
“No.”
She placed a hand lightly on one of his cheeks. “Help me understand, Gio. I’m trying to.”
He looked out the plane window, collecting his thoughts before answering her. “I don’t completely understand it myself. I swore I would never return to Venice, but when I’m with you the past matters to me again. The truth matters.” He breathed in deeply, then said, “We should be landing soon. Tonight we’ll stay in a hotel north of Venice. Tomorrow we’ll take a water taxi into the city.”
Julia closed her eyes to a rush of emotions she couldn’t contain. She wanted to shake him and demand that he tell her what had upset him.
But she knew she’d lose him if she pushed him.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
* * *
The next morning, Julia stood beside Gio in the back of the water taxi as it sped across the lagoon toward Venice. The wind had whipped her long curls around until she’d rolled them into a ponytail and contained them with one hand. The taxi bounced in the waves, jostling her against Gio. He moved behind her, holding on to the wooden top of the boat with both hands and supporting her with his body. She smiled at him over her shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat.
She pointed to islands along the way with childlike enthusiasm. “What is that island?”
He studied the small, deserted island. “Isola Compalto?” He wasn’t sure.
She gave him a funny look. “You don’t know?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “I’m not a fan of Venice or Venetians. I don’t see the point. Why pour so much energy into something that was doomed from the start? So what if it sinks into the ocean? Build another city on better stilts, if that’s what you want, but don’t whine about the water if you choose to live in the middle it.”
Julia turned so she was facing him. “You are completely missing the point of Venice.”
A wave tossed her forward and rubbed her against him. “Which is?” he asked huskily, not actually caring about the answer, but loving how her face lit up at his question. If pretending to care kept he
r in his arms and smiling, he would listen to her read a dissertation on the history of every bridge in the city.
“It’s a city that shouldn’t have been. It should have failed a hundred times over. The wooden pillars they built it on should have rotted away, but the clay beneath the city protects it. Everything about Venice is a battle with nature. The soil is full of salt, so if you wanted to plant something, you had to bring in your own dirt, your own seeds, and protect both from the very place you planted it on. A place that is struggling so desperately just to survive shouldn’t care about beauty, but it does.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I love to read travel blogs,” she said. “They say that if you want to make Venetians smile, give them a flower. Because a flower doesn’t serve any purpose outside of bringing a person joy. And some would ask if a flower is then worth the effort. A Venetian would tell you that it is. That those simple pleasures are worth any price.”
Julia’s words cut through Gio. He was confused with his own choice to run to the same city where his father had found refuge. Could he find his own answers there?
What do I do with this burning anger? How do I stop it from consuming me?
Julia wants me to believe in love, but how can I when everywhere I look I see a twisted version of it?
An impatient frown creased Julia’s brow. “If you don’t intend to enjoy yourself at all, why are we here? Why come to this amazing place and choose to be miserable? Because it is a choice, Gio.”
She looked up at him from beneath her long lashes and, right then, he chose her. “I’ll play tourist with you for a day, Julia, on one condition.”
“That is?”
“We leave everything else behind us. Just you and me in Venice. Come away with me, Julia. Let’s leave all this behind.” His phone rang in his breast pocket. He took it out and groaned. “That’s Luke. Probably wants to know where we are.”
Julia grabbed his phone and threw it into the lagoon. When he opened his mouth to say something she put her hand over his mouth softly. “Step one to running away—no phones.” Then she smiled. “Before you get upset, now we’re even.”
The irritation he expected to feel didn’t surface. Instead, it was as if she’d cut him free from suffocating tethers. No one knew he was in Venice. No one expected him back at his office. He wanted to lose himself in Julia—not just in her body, but in the full experience of her. He pulled her roughly against him and kissed her until they were both shaking with need.
The driver turned and called back to them. “Do you still want me to stop, or would you like me to circle around?”
Gio raised his head and looked into Julia’s eyes. “What do you want to see?”
She smiled up at him. “Everything.”
He addressed the driver. “Do you give guided tours? It’s her first time here.”
The driver shrugged one shoulder. “Me? No. I don’t do the tour so much.”
Gio said, “I’ll pay you triple whatever you charge.”
A large smile spread across the driver’s face. “Ah, then coming up is the Rialto Bridge. There is a bar nearby, very nice. You look at the ceiling and all you see are women’s . . . how do you say . . . bras? Tell them I sent you. On your left is a hotel that if you go by at night sometimes the women, they don’t close the shutters. I don’t judge, I just enjoy.”
A chuckle rumbled deep within Gio. He met Julia’s eyes and said, “He did say he doesn’t normally give tours.”
Julia smiled up at him. “I can’t imagine why not.”
They laughed together as the taxi driver continued to give them insider tips that were surely not mentioned in more formal tours.
After the boat tour, Gio walked with Julia up and down a maze of streets. They crossed bridges. They stopped for gelato. They laughed as they watched young American children chasing pigeons in St. Mark’s Square.
Julia enthusiastically asked a fellow tourist for directions to the Gallerie dell’Accademia and headed off with Gio to find it. They wandered in and out of the many shops along the way. Julia stopped frequently to study a feature of a building or to share a factoid she’d read about Venetians battling the rising waters and its effect on their homes. It was a day out of time, and even though Gio knew it couldn’t last, he felt happier than he had since his father had passed.
When they eventually found the museum, they spent a couple of hours viewing its extensive collection of Venetian and European paintings. It was early afternoon when they reentered the sunshine and the crowded streets. Just outside the museum, they found a wooden bridge that arched across the Grand Canal. Julia paused at the top of it, and Gio stopped beside her. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” she asked without looking away from the view.
Gio didn’t answer. He’d spent too many years hating the city to ever truly find it beautiful. The day had given him one answer, though. It was possible to find pleasure in denial.
So, perhaps he was more like his father than he knew.
Which was not good news.
* * *
Julia glanced over her shoulder expecting to see Gio smiling, but instead she caught him fighting back whatever inner demon he denied having. “What are you thinking about, Gio?”
“Nothing,” he said dismissively.
Julia chewed her bottom lip. “I thought you were enjoying this as much as I am.”
He stood behind her, pushed the hair off the back of her neck, and kissed her gently. “I was enjoying you.”
“So, you’ve been humoring me all day?”
He turned her in his arms. “Let’s not argue. It doesn’t matter.”
His words were a cold slap of reality. “It matters to me. I want to know how you really feel.”
“Do you?” He looked down at the structure they stood on and shook his head in disgust. “Take a good look at what we’re standing on. Wood over hideous steel. A façade to keep the tourists happy. You want the truth? It’s ugly. Fake.”
Julia froze in his arms. “Like our day here?” she asked softly.
He didn’t deny it.
“Like us?” Julia searched his face for some hint of how he felt. “You asked me to leave it all behind and I tried to. I tried to tell myself it’s okay that you don’t want to tell me what happened on the island—that you don’t want to tell me anything. These last few weeks have been amazing, but you shut me out of everything that’s important. What are we doing together, Gio? Are we working towards something, or am I just this summer’s entertainment?”
Still he held his silence.
“Say something.” She pushed him away with both hands, then stood in front of him, chest heaving with emotion. “I keep waiting for you to open up to me. I keep thinking that if I give you more time you’ll let me in. But you’re not going to, are you?”
“What do you want me to say, Julia?” The coldness of his tone tore into her.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Just the truth. Do you love me?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.
Well, there is my answer. “I can’t do this. I can’t stay with you knowing that I’m the only one who is going to mourn this when it ends. I’m sorry, Gio. This is my fault. You’re exactly the man you said you were. We need to end this before you break my heart.” She took a step backward, away from him.
“It was a mistake to bring you to the wedding . . . and to Venice. We’ll fly back to the States tonight. Once we’re back in New York this will all blow over.”
“I am flying home, but not with you. It wasn’t the wedding or Venice. It’s you. You don’t get it, and I can’t explain it better than I have. Good-bye, Gio.”
“You’re going to leave over this?”
“Yes,” she said. “Because in the end you can’t give me the one thing I want from you.” She stepped away from him. “I’ll take a taxi boat back to the airport. Please send my things back to me in New York.”
“No,” he said firmly.
/> “Don’t, Gio. Don’t make this difficult. I need to go home.”
“We’ll fly back together.”
She shook her head. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t. He wanted to love her. She could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t ready to love anyone. That was what he’d tried to tell her, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it. “No. There was a reason you came to Italy. I don’t know what you’re looking for, Gio, but find it. Find those answers. Maybe then you’ll understand what I’m asking you for. And if that happens, come find me.”
“Julia—”
Julia turned and walked quickly away. She didn’t want to give him a chance to change her mind. She didn’t want something that looked good on the surface.
She wanted it all.
Chapter Twenty-One
With Julia’s words echoing in his head, Gio stood in the small courtyard behind his father’s old palazzo. It looked as if every part of it was in need of repair. He wondered if it had looked the same nine years earlier when a younger him had stood in that same spot the day he’d come to collect his father’s remains.
He didn’t remember many details from that day, just the anger and hurt that had filled him. He wouldn’t have described his parents’ marriage as warm, but he’d been unprepared for the reality of how little his father had respected it.
While waiting for the paperwork to be completed, his father’s mistress had asked to speak to him. He remembered being enraged by the audacity of her request. He didn’t want to speak to her. He didn’t want her to exist at all.
His mother had predicted that Leora would try to pull him aside. She’d warned Gio that such a woman would say anything to milk them for more money than she’d already taken from his father. “Don’t think she’s above blackmail, George,” his mother had said. “She may threaten to tell her story. You have to keep this out of the papers. The company will suffer enough from your father’s passing. A scandal could do real damage.” Whether her tears were born from anger or loss, Gio didn’t know, but that had been the only time he’d ever seen his mother cry. “I couldn’t handle the shame on top of losing your father. Make it go away, George. Please. Make sure no one ever knows about her.”
