The Love I Never Knew: Contemporary Romance Mystery (Ariadne Silver Romance Mystery #1)

by Morris Fenris

  Life back home became increasingly difficult for Alicia. Damien kept drifting in and out of his drunken and abusive moods. His impatience with her was starting to tell and he often complained about Alicia not making full use of her talents. He kept on insisting that she should think about getting on to the big stage and becoming a star. When sober, Damien would take it upon himself to support Alicia and help her attain the stardom that she was destined for. However, this was not the kind of support his young wife needed. She wanted someone to motivate her and make her believe in herself even more, not someone to shower her with criticism and pass offensive comments on her looks and disability. He did have a point but, as a husband, Damien should have known better and kept these views to himself. After all there was very little the poor girl could be possibly blamed for. She had done, or at least tried to do everything possible to hide her disability but her limp had not healed completely. Moreover, the sudden change in life had thrown her previous schedule out of gear. Alicia had not undergone a physiotherapy session for years, and her exercise regime had been completely forgotten. As a result, she had started putting on a considerable amount of weight. The pressure of her grueling schedule was also starting to tell and her good looks were slowly deserting her.

  http://www.amazon.com/Romance-Finding-Eugenia-Novella-Suspense-ebook/dp/B01849WQOG

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  Sample from Between Love And Honor

  http://www.amazon.com/Romance-Between-Novella-Mystery-Suspense-ebook/dp/B016OXY5SE

  Chapter One

  Voices echoed off the colorful tiled and stucco walls in the hallway of University. They were all jumbled and unrecognizable in various dialects and degrees of ability, but to Lillian Stone the voices served as a failure, her own failure. She thought she could manage, she thought she could hold her own, she thought wrong. Coming to Florence had been her sole dream for as long as she could remember and now she felt that dream was becoming a nightmare. She could feel the hot tears behind her eyelids and knew if she didn’t get away from the swirling gibberish that was filling her ears, those tears were going to spill out in an unstoppable wave of regret.

  The humid outside air hit her square in the chest as she rushed from the grand foyer and down the steps onto the street. Her bag was slung over a shoulder and she clutched her city guide and text book in one hand turning down the street with her head down, allowing her long locks to fall and conceal her frustrated features from any onlookers. She’d make it back to the student housing and call home, talking to her mother would calm her nerves and help her rationalize her anxiety. Lillian looked at the clock in the piazza, she sighed it was only noon, that would mean it was five in the morning back in Iowa. Her mother wouldn’t be awake yet.

  “Okay Lillian, you are an adult. You do not need to rely on your mother to make you feel better.” she consoled herself as she continued to walk on.”So what if your Italian sucks, that’s why you are here, to learn.” Lillian set her jaw in determination and quickened her pace wanting to get back to the apartment before her roommates did. Getting a moment alone in the small two bedroom, with three other people and one bathroom was treasured, even at this early stage of the game. It wasn’t that the foursome didn’t get along; they did in a “pleasant we are new to each other and being polite” kind of way. If any of Lillian’s friends from Iowa were here with her, sharing the miniature apartment, they would already be at each other’s throats, having known each other since kindergarten and being more like siblings than high school acquaintances. So in that token, it was nice to not know one another well. Lillian hoped they would all become friends soon, but it had been so long since she had to make new friends she was a bit rusty on the whole etiquette of it.

  She stopped to catch her breath and look around; not a single building looked familiar. Where had she managed to get herself lost? She doubled back thinking she had missed a corner while buried in her own thoughts. It was just like her to get worked up and then lose her focus. Her fingers fumbled with the city guide, juggling her bag and her books as she tried to locate where she was. Those hot tears of frustration were welling up again.

  “Scusi?” she said tapping a man who was washing windows on the stone house behind her. “Cerco umm…” she held her hands up in frustration, “student housing?”

  The man smiled and nodded. It was obvious he had no idea what she wanted. “Buon giorno.” He greeted and then turned back to his chore, politely dismissing her.

  Lillian smirked, still lost and frustrated. She meandered back the way she thought she came. There must be an English speaking tourist somewhere nearby. She would head towards the shops and vendors, but which way were they? If she knew that, then she guessed she would not be lost. Up ahead she saw a woman carrying a canvas bag of fresh breads and vegetables. If she walked the way the woman was coming from she should at least find the vendor she bought her goods from and hopefully relocate herself to the piazza.

  As the woman drew near Lillian attempted to ask her directions. She shook her head and pointed back the way she came. Lillian was having a hard time with her accent. She followed the woman’s finger looking down the street. “Scenda, e poi a destra?”

  The woman nodded and then brushed her away, scurrying off to her destination.

  “Okay, down the street and to the right.” She sighed, “I think that is what she meant. Well I guess getting lost is one way to learn.” Lillian was determined to stay positive.

  When she reached the familiar piazza, just outside University, she was beyond relieved. The clock now read quarter after two. She had been lost for two hours and had not only missed her window to call home before her parents went to work for the day, but she was now rushed to get to her Italian tutorial session. Again a heavy sighed escaped her lungs. Today was not her favorite day in Florence. She knotted the length of her hair atop her head to cool down and ease the humidity on her skin. Thankful that she had worn her running shoes and not her sandals, she made her way back inside the building, sprinting down the hallway and bursting through the classroom door with a clumsy flourish as she tried to yank the strap of her bag over her head.

  “Buona sera,” greeted a handsome man at the front of the classroom. “Have a seat, per favore.”

  Lillian looked around the room. No one had arrived yet. She parked herself in the front row, eager to get started and wanting an unobstructed view of the god that was to teach her perfect Italian.

  Chapter Two

  By the time the class was over, Lillian had learned three things: one, she was not the only student, out of the seven in her class, to have been stunned by how little they understood the Italian language; two, the scheduled professor’s wife had recently went into labor and his TA would be taking on the class until his return; and three, the gorgeous Italian god at the head of the class was the TA, Lorenzo Corsini. Lillian was feeling better. She would still call her mother, but now it would be with excitement in her voice instead of agonizing frustration.

  Signore Corsini was standing at an old blackboard erasing words that Lillian had dutifully typed into her laptop. She wanted to introduce herself and thank him for making her feel more at ease with her language studies. The others filed out one by one and she lagged behind absently placing her computer and books into her bag. She was purposely procrastinating so that she might speak to him alone and not be embarrassed by her inadequate language skills in front of the other class members.

  “Scusi, Signore Corsini?” she hesitated.

  “Si?” he turned and his green eyes glittered, taking in her American look with amusement.

  “Umm,” she fumbled trying to recall the correct words to use, her brain was scrambled with all that had taken place and the way he was looking at her did not help matters. “Scusa.” she apologized not knowing how to progress. “Ugh” she sighed rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.

  Signore Corsini reached out and stroked her upper arm. “It is okay.” He spoke in English with a thick Tuscan accent. “What may I help
with, Signorina?”

  Lillian smiled at his more formal English turn of phrase. In a way, it made her feel less self-conscious at her lack of ability. They would perhaps, be on an even playing field and this gave Lillian a sense of comfort.

  “I wanted to thank you.” she began in a slow pace, stressing her words. “I am having a difficult time today and well, you made it better.” She smiled and adjusted her bag, ready to dash from the room.

  Signore Corsini still held her upper arm. “Grazie.”

  Lillian was not sure if he was correcting her or thanking her for saying thank you. “Prego, Signore Corsini.”

  He laughed, “Please call me Enzo.”

  “Enzo? Is that short for Lorenzo?” she inquired, quite surprised he wanted to be so informal with her.

  “Si, only my grandmother calls me Lorenzo.” His smile could melt butter.

  Lillian was falling hard. He was dark, tall and his accent was perfect. Lorenzo Corsini was her dream man come to life. It was going to be a very interesting semester. “My grandmother calls me Lilly.”

  Enzo rubbed her arm and finally pulled his hand away. She wanted to grab it and place it back on her skin. Her arm felt cold and lonely without his touch. She fidgeted on her feet watching him pack up his papers and books into a well weathered, leather bag.

  “Have you eaten, Lilly?” he started towards the door, looking back at her over his shoulder, anticipating her response. “Come, I show you cibo stupefacente.”

  Lillian looked at him with a suspicious sideway glance. “Food, I got that.” her smile was nervous in appearance.

  He snickered. “Umm, good tasting food.” was his loose translation.

  Enzo took her hand and led her from the building out into the piazza and down a nearby street. He had no issues navigating the streets and Lillian hoped he would not leave her at the roadside when they were finished eating, or she would never find her way back to the apartment. She relished in the warmth of her hand in his as they continued on to a small café. Enzo pulled out a chair for her and gestured for her to sit as he pushed the chair beneath her. Lillian felt like one of her cinema, starlet idols being courted by a true gentleman. When he was situated himself, he signaled with a snap of his fingers to a nearby waiter.

  In a low whisper, the dream in front of her ordered for them. She had no idea what he had ordered as she could not hear him. Even if she had, his Italian was so precise and quick she would have only caught bits and pieces anyway. She hadn’t realized that the smile on her lips had not left since the classroom and her cheeks had begun to ache. With her fingers she massaged her facial muscles and if she didn’t have that slight discomfort happening she could have believed this was all a dream and she was still back in Iowa in her own bed.

  “What is this?” Enzo asked mimicking her actions and massaging his own cheeks. Lillian laughed and blushed.

  “You make me smile, a lot.” She admitted.

  “Ah, that is good. Me too, see?” he pointed to his own wide grin.

  The food arrived along with a bottle of red wine. Lillian was prepared for the waiter to ask for her identification, but he poured the wine and left without a word. Enzo lifted his full glass to her and his eyes darted to her glass that still remained on the table. “You will join me?”

  Her hand waivered as she reached for the wine, her parents would never approve. She was only nineteen and not legal in the states, but this was Florence. She held her glass out to his and waited for him to give a toast. She was positive it would be something that flowed like sweet syrup from his lips.

  “Salute.” his glass kissed hers with a small clink and she watched with her jaw hanging as he sipped the crimson liquid. Lillian laughed at her vivid fantasy life and tasted the bitter drink. She thought she would have an aversion to it, but after the initial dry tartness that sucked away the moisture on her tongue she found the wine to be flavorful. They dined on slices of bread, flavored olive oil and a plate of cheese. Enzo had ordered antipasto that was heaven to Lillian’s senses; each bite more serendipitous than the last. They ate and drank together laughing and correcting each other’s language faux pas well into the evening.

  “Come.” Enzo held out his hand and Lillian was more than happy to take it. They walked the city together and Lillian talked endlessly about how she had promised herself on her fifth birthday that one day she would go to Florence When the opportunity for her to travel abroad for a semester came up at her college she jumped on it.

  “You like it?” Enzo asked.

  “Oh yes, it’s everything I ever dreamed of. Well, except for the classes being a little more difficult and living with three strangers sharing one bathroom. That’s a bit disarming, but it will work out.” Lillian realized she was babbling and she dropped her eyes to follow her feet. Perhaps the wine had gone to her head and loosened her tongue, or maybe it was the star filled night and the easy company at her side.

  “I will teach.” offered Lorenzo.

  Lillian squeezed his hand and gave him a sincere smile. “Yes you will teach me Italian and that will be wonderful.”

  He stopped them in their path. “No, I will be your,” he searched for the right words. “your tour guide, to Florence. Yes?”

  Lillian bounced on her feet and struggled from throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. She squeezed his hand so hard he laughed at her enthusiasm. “Si, si! Grazie!” she beamed.

  They walked a short distance further and Enzo covered her eyes and led her, blinded, for the last few paces, standing behind her with his hands over her eyes. Lillian inhaled the scent of his cologne. “Where are we?” she asked placing her own small hands over his.

  “Look, Lilly.” He removed his hands and Lillian started out over an exquisite scene. It was a picture post card and she knew it well.

  “Enzo, the Ponte Vecchio.” She whispered in quite awe. “It is beautiful.” The tears she had tried to hold back all day finally spilled out over her cheeks, leaving warm salty trails over her skin.

  “Molto bello.” he said, but his eyes were not on the view of the river and the city, they were on Lillian.

  Lillian smiled and repeated his words. “Molto bello.”

  He turned her face towards him and looked into her dark eyes with concern, brushing away the wets steaks on her cheeks with his thumb. “Why do you cry?”

  “I always wanted to be here, and now I am. I am happy that is why.” His hands remained on her cheeks as she gazed up at him. Then she noticed the numerous multi-colored padlocks. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes glittered with the remaining tears. Her fingers ran over the locks, barely touching them. She did not dare to caress them too hard. These were symbolic monuments of love. This place was a romantic alter. Lorenzo had brought her to a place of emotional meaning.

  “Enzo,” his name felt wonderful coming off her lips. “Do you have a lock here?”

  Lillian noticed his green eyes become shadowed, even in the dim evening light. “No.” The singular word that he uttered was barely audible and it landed on Lillian’s heart with such impact that she reacted without a second thought. Her hands cupped his face and she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. His lips were full and soft against hers and she could taste the tartness of the wine that had lingered there.

  At first Enzo returned the kiss with sincerity and desire, and then he stopped, abruptly grabbing hold of Lillian’s hands and pulling them from his face. He lifted his head and looked upward to the star lit sky, cursing in Italian.

  ‘I’m sorry.” Lillian said. “I didn’t mean to” but she had meant to. It was all she had thought about since he touched her arm in the classroom. She reached for his hand and he shrugged her away, leaving her alone on the bridge surrounded by the promises of love and happy couples holding hands.

  Chapter Three

  “Lillian, wake up. There is a guy at the door, Lillian.” The pounding on her bedroom door woke her from the restless sleep she had fallen into after being awake and confuse
d for the better part of the night. Her roommate had left the bedroom early and that allowed her to shut the curtains and keep the lights off to fake her brain into thinking it was still night time. The pounding came again in short insistent bursts.

  “I’m up, I’m up, one second.” She hollered from beneath her pillows.

  Enzo was sitting at the kitchen counter waiting patiently when Lillian emerged in her flannel pants and Iowa State University tee shirt. Her hair had been wrapped into a messy bun and she had managed to slip on a pair of slipper boots on her feet as she shuffled out to see who could possibly be looking for her. When she saw Enzo she stopped in her tracks, she was confused.

  “Ciao, Lilly.” He smiled and got up from his seat moving towards her. He looked impeccable in a pair of dress pants and v-neck tee shirt.

  “I don’t understand, why are you here?” she ran her fingers through her messy locks, aware of what a complete disaster she must look like.

  “I would like very much to speak with you.” he said, taking in her morning appearance. “Colazione?”

  Lillian’s stomach answered for her by growling loud enough for all to hear. She giggled and in that instant the tension between them broke.

  “It is decided.” Enzo laughed. “Get dressed, pore favore.”

  The streets were overwrought with weekend tourists and Enzo grabbed her hand to guide her through the hustling crowd of souvenir shoppers and residents buying their fresh weekly produce. Lillian bristled against his touch, taking her hand back and putting it in the pocket of her sweater. Enzo’s brows knitted together with hurt and confusion, but he did not attempt to hold her hand again. They passed several small cafes, where late morning risers had flocked. The outside tables were filled with people lounging with flavored coffees or tall flutes of Bellinis. Trays of pastries smelled of rich, sweet dough and decadent syrups. Lillian’s mouth watered.

  Enzo walked to a café that boasted a stunning view of the piazza. There they could sit and watch the passerby’s as they traveled with their goods. Lillian was able to see artists setting up to create wonderful works the tourist would pay handsomely for and then fly back home to be treasured memories of their time spent. Small vendors squabbled with locals over the price of fresh breads and vegetables. Lillian thought she could sit here all day and not tire of the views that unfolded before her eyes. Enzo ordered them Mimosas and lightly sugared pastries.