Storming Venice

by Anna E Bendewald

  Giselle saw lights flash across the windows and grabbed her heavy riding cape from near the door, wrapped it around her shoulders, and stepped out into the storm. A white SUV stopped at the bottom of the steps and its door flew open, revealing Raphielli’s anxious face.

  Giselle called into the wind, “Ciao, Raphielli!”

  She was surprised they’d come from Italy, and was astounded at the change in her friend. Raphielli had been transformed into a commanding Italian bombshell with her curls whipping dramatically and her curves barely contained in her snug après-ski outfit. She was wearing a yummy pair of knee-high winter boots with low chunky heels that Giselle instantly coveted.

  Raphielli raised her stylishly gloved hands in frustration. “Ie-ie-yie! Gigi! Something’s going on with you Veronas, and I’m shut off from Juliette! I’m going crazy! Questo è troppo!”

  She and the Vitali cousins ran up to the front door and, after quick air kisses, Giselle ushered them inside as snow blew sideways through the open door. She gave everyone hugs in turn. “Tonight you’ll learn a secret that doesn’t leave this house.”

  Raphielli turned and grabbed the front of Alphonso’s coat. “Ah-ha! I knew it! More than the secret I’m already in on? Oh, Dio mio!”

  They all headed to the back of the château and got the party started in the kitchen while unpacking and munching on local delicacies. Raphielli got the story out of Giselle while they were preparing dinner, and no one interrupted. The group reacted first with disbelief about Vincenzo, then shock as they realized she was serious, followed by speculation about whether they’d had any inkling about him and Leonardo, followed by happiness for Markus and Giselle, and finally excitement about the baby.

  Dinner around the grand dining room table was a swirl of conversations on love, pregnancy, and parenting. There were toasts to Vincenzo and Leonardo, toasts to Giselle and Markus, and hearty cheers for making the Forêt estate a full-time home again.

  Laetitia said, “Remember that midwife your mother used to employ? Back when we were born, your mother used to send her out to every family in Gernelle. Your grandfather would drive her and all her supplies in The Tank.”

  “I was the last baby she delivered before she retired,” Robert said.

  “Giselle, when you get close to delivering, you could come stay at the hotel,” offered Henri. “We’re so close to the hospital.”

  “That sounds good. We’re thinking of having Yvania and Ivar Czerney come live with us. You guys will love them. They’re like Markus’ family.”

  “Da, Yvania has delivered a lot of babies,” Markus said and then, looking at Giselle’s flat stomach, he added, “But we have a few months to decide.”

  “Now I understand why you’re not near your doctor in Venice,” Raphielli said.

  Having exhausted the subject of her secret, Giselle glanced around the table and noticed Carolette waggling her brows at Raphielli. “So, Elli, care to share any news of your own?”

  “Oh, oui.” Fauve looked pointedly at Alphonso before turning back to Raphielli. “Anything new to catch Giselle up on?”

  “Well, sì. I’ve taken Alphonso as my lover.”

  Giselle covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh! Well…congratulations!”

  “I was about to tell you the last time I saw you, but you got sick and rushed off.”

  Giselle looked at Carolette and Fauve. “Apparently, you two are keeping close tabs on…Elli.”

  “Mais oui.” Fauve popped an olive into her mouth and gestured with a tilt of her head. “If ever a girl was born to be one of our group, it’s ‘Bodacious’ over there.”

  Giselle was happy for Raphielli. “I knew there was something different about you, and not just your clothes—which are to die for, by the way. You look happy, relaxed…alive. Good for you…Elli! Now, boys, I assume you want to get your bowling tournament underway. The girls and I will break out the cards.”

  The men grabbed plates of sandwiches and a few bottles before moving off to the game room in the east wing, and the women moved to the lounge where they stoked the fire and settled in to play their favorite card game, Morts des Rois. The men couldn’t join in even if they wanted to, because the girls had made the game up as children. It required six decks of cards, and the rules were incomprehensible to an outsider.

  Selma sat next to Raphielli. “You can play my hand with me. I’ll explain what we’re doing.”

  Solange looked thoughtfully at Giselle over her cards. “So, earlier when you said ‘homosexual,’ you actually meant Vincenzo is ‘bisexual,’ right?”

  Giselle figured she knew where this was going. “No. V is, and has always been, one hundred percent homosexual.”

  Solange pressed on. “So, Vincenzo didn’t even give you a…I mean even…”

  Giselle made a zero with her thumb and index finger. “Never, not one percent.”

  “Aa-hoo!” Fauve crowed. “So, all of the years we assumed you were being fucked silly by your gorgeous Italian count…”

  Solange put her cards down and pointed both index fingers at Giselle like guns. “Okay, bebe. I know you were a virgin through high school, so was there someone in between…or did you lose it to Markus?”

  “Just Markus.”

  Raphielli blurted, “Does he make you orgasm?” And then her face turned bright red.

  Giselle swung her head to face her buxom little friend. “Raphielli!”

  “Per favore! I don’t know if I’m doing it right with Alphonso. I haven’t had one.”

  Embarrassed, but finally able to talk about sex with the girls, Giselle abandoned the card game, jumped up from the table, ran over to a big sofa, and threw herself down. The girls were right behind her, giggling. “Oui! He gives me lots of different climaxes, too! Like fluttering ones that go on and on. And big deep ones where he’s working me in front and back together, and…” She looked up at them standing over her like a herd of deer in headlights.

  “What? Wait! Are you serious!” Laetitia was making a time-out signal with her hands. “What? Slow down, we need details!”

  Like schoolgirls, they all flung themselves on the huge couch in an unladylike sprawl.

  Giselle moaned. “And the ones where he props me up on a tower of pillows and I’m doing a sort of backbend, or the latest where he does this trick with the wand from the honey pot.”

  Solange barked out a laugh and then demanded, “Where did he learn these skills? Do they teach them in Russian sex camps?”

  Giselle smacked Solange’s butt. “He’s Ukrainian, you sex muffin! I don’t know. I thought maybe all men were like him.”

  Raphielli said, “I can tell you that Alphonso is wonderful at sex, but no orgasms for me. Can Markus teach him how to give me one?”

  “That’s brilliant!” Solange threw her hands up. “You’re a smart little sex muffin for a convent girl. Gigi, can you bring Markus in here to work his magic on you so we can all see what he’s doing?”

  Fauve climbed to her knees. “And how he’s doing it? Henri’s got to be here to see what he’s doing wrong! Please, Gigi!”

  Giselle was laughing so hard she got a cramp in her side and struggled to get a hold of herself. “You’re all crazy. I’m not going to do a live sex demonstration for you!”

  She sent Markus a quick text, and then the girls took turns sharing their sexual adventures and misadventures. For the first time, there was no veil of secrecy keeping Giselle from her friends. The topic had turned to the best way to tell a man he’s hurting your nipples, when they heard the men coming down the hallway. Markus appeared in the door and she patted the spot next to her on the couch. As the guys found available seats and made themselves comfortable, Markus sat down next to her.

  “You got my text?” she asked him.

  “There is no such thing,” he murmured in his heavy accent. “There are no sex schools in Ukraine that teach us how to pleasure women.”

  Carolette reached out and clawed Zelph’s knees. “Mon amour, get Markus
alone and find out what trick he does with a honey wand.”

  Zelph cracked up, and then realized she was serious. “Sure, of course.”

  Markus looked around the group and sighed. “I was taught how to please women by a lover who was very…particular.”

  “Ah! Bien! A teacher!” Henri burst out and clapped his hands lightly as if applauding Markus’ former lover. “And how lucky for you, Markus! Every woman should be so helpful.” He turned accusingly to the ladies. “You know, we can tell when you’re faking. And it’s so confusing when you strut into the bedroom in racy lingerie and pounce on us, but then all you do is moan and expect us to know what you want!”

  Alphonso ran his tongue over his full lips, and flashed his white teeth at Raphielli, but said nothing.

  Zelph got up and went to look out the window. “Hey, it looks like a blizzard out there and it’s really piling up. We can’t fly in this.” He turned to Giselle. “Can we spend the night here?”

  “I insist you stay,” she said. “All the bedrooms on the second floor are ready for guests.”

  Alphonso stood up and stretched his back. “I’ll call the pilot and tell him we’re staying the night.”

  Giselle put her hand on Markus’ thigh, and whispered, “You have time to give these boys some instruction. Why don’t you take them into the drawing room?”

  He narrowed his eyes as if judging whether she was serious.

  “Come on,” she urged. “You heard Henri. They’re not feeling confident. Just teach them something.”

  “Da, okay. Something foolproof that I can explain.”

  She gave him a little kiss and then said, “Boys, go have a sex powwow in the drawing room while we ladies get everything shut up for the night.”

  Fabrice went right up to Markus, grabbed his forearm, and pulled him off the couch, saying, “Let’s go, Don Juan deMarco.” The men headed off in a strangely subdued manner, as if they were undertaking something solemn.

  Selma sent Solange upstairs to open the heating vents in the bedrooms while she went downstairs to bank open the boiler so they’d have plenty of heat. The rest of the ladies put the kitchen in order, locked up, and went room by room turning out lights, blowing out candles, and securing the fireplace screens. There were stifled yawns as they climbed the grand stairs to claim guest bedrooms.

  Giselle was dozing by the time Markus came into their bedroom. She woke up when she heard the click of him closing the door. Rolling onto her side she watched him undress. “How’d it go?”

  “I think good. They really needed the help. They want to make sex good for their women, and now they can. My work is done.”

  Markus turned out the little bedside light, climbed into bed, and pressed himself against her for warmth. Snuggled against him she whispered, “I can’t wait to hear how successfully they implement your instructions. What did you teach them?”

  “Let me show you.” His sexy accent was soft in her ear as he stroked his fingers down her body.

  CHAPTER

  15

  When she got up the next morning, Giselle found that most of the ladies were already downstairs. Her male guests were in various stages of alertness as she walked down the hall calling morning greetings and receiving responses ranging from, “What time is it?” to “Save me something to eat, I’m just getting into the shower.”

  Raphielli came racing down the hall, shimmering ebony curls flying and cheeks flushed. She let loose a happy torrent of Italian, “Questa è la cosa più grande che accada a me in tutta la mia vita!” and threw her arms around Giselle. “Grazie mille! Grazie mille! That Markus is a genius! Alphonso has to spend more time with him!”

  In the kitchen, they found Fauve, Laetitia, Solange, and Carolette busy whipping up a feast.

  “Did Selma leave us already?” Giselle asked.

  Laetitia looked up from juicing oranges. “She and Veronique were out plowing and spreading ash on the drive at first light. Now she’s probably shoveling. You know her.”

  “Where’s Veronique?”

  “She had a cup of coffee with us, then went back to her house to feed the dogs.” Laetitia turned her attention to Raphielli. “So? Elli? Were you able to arrive with Alphonso?”

  “Oh, sì! More than once!” She fanned her face. “I didn’t want to wear him out, but it was good for him to practice.”

  Fauve waved her wooden spoon like a magic wand. “Our love life is transformed. Henri and I were like teenagers with that trick.”

  “Zelph mastered Markus’ trick like he was born to do it,” Carolette sighed.

  Raphielli approached Fauve and Carolette and peered into their faces. “You both look rejuvenated. How’s my complexion?”

  “Beautifully…um…flushed.” Fauve laughed. “Did you just arrive again this morning?”

  “Good morning, ladies.” Alphonso walked in with a small love bite peeking out from his collar. “I called the pilot. The plane will be ready in two hours.” The rest of the men were making a beeline for the espresso pot.

  “Grazie,” Raphielli said. “I’ve got to get back to work today.”

  Selma came through the back door and asked, “Are you guys talking about the big story in the news? People are saying Salvio’s not dead.”

  Auguste added, “This morning my phone had a news flash he’d been sighted getting off a boat in Turkey. I hope they bring him to trial.”

  Solange looked unimpressed. “You can’t believe the media. You need to believe the police, and they say he’s dead.”

  Fauve brushed them off. “Right, it isn’t him. Juliette assured me he’s dead, drowned under Verdu Mer.” Then she looked regretful. “But a trial would have been the best thing. Petro’s mother could’ve looked Salvio in the eye. It’s every mother’s nightmare to lose a child and the killer never faces justice.”

  Henri looked from Giselle to Raphielli. “But just in case…Turkey isn’t far away. What are you guys doing to stay safe?”

  Raphielli’s eyes went from Giselle to Markus and then back to Giselle as if there was something she wanted to say. She did seem remarkably calm for someone whose husband’s body had supposedly gone from missing to lurking around the Mediterranean. But the moment passed without a word.

  Giselle swallowed a mouthful of brown rice and sautéed apple. “I’m not worried. He wasn’t even after me, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I tell you, Yvania really cracked his head. He’s dead under the waters of Verdu Mer.”

  Markus bent over and kissed Giselle’s temple. “I keep watch over Giselle for any crazies.”

  Selma looked serious and added, “We’ve got the guard dogs.”

  “I try to keep an eye on Raphielli,” Alphonso said.

  Carolette seemed distracted. “If he’s alive, the police’ll get him.”

  Then everyone got busy toasting bread, scrambling eggs, and warming cooked brown rice in a big pot of almond milk for porridge. Giselle was in heaven. The feeling of home and love and belonging was so palpable, she felt misty-eyed watching her friends. Maybe she was getting a bit hormonal already.

  Carolette said softly, “Um, I apologize if anyone wants honey. The pot and wand are upstairs.”

  Everyone assured her there was no need to retrieve it.

  After cleaning the kitchen, the guests left. When Giselle was alone again with Markus, she said, “That was a fun party. I like being back with my friends.”

  “And now I believe you are wanting to work. Am I right?”

  “Right you are.” The tensions of Venice felt far away like they’d been a bad dream.

  Raphielli and the cousins drove their rented SUV to the airstrip where her chartered jet was waiting. On the flight back to Venice, her mind turned to Fauve’s words, that every parent who loses a child deserves to see the murderer put on trial. For weeks she’d been wrestling with the concept of justice, and now she knew what she had to do. After Alphonso dropped her off at Porto delle Donne, she went straight to the office.


  “Kate, would you mind stepping out for a few minutes? I have a private call to make.”

  “Certamente.” Kate picked up her coffee and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Raphielli called don Giancarlo Petrosino.

  “Alo?”

  “Gio, it’s Raphielli.”

  “Ah, bene!” She heard the smile in his voice. “Ciao, Raphielli! It’s good to hear from you. Your voice sounds as beautiful as ever. No permanent damage to your throat?”

  “No permanent damage. But I assumed Doctor Cappeli reported my progress to you.”

  “Sì, sì, he did. He is an admirer of yours, but I’m sure everyone who knows you feels the same.”

  “Grazie, Gio.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Well, I need to ask you to do something. I don’t think you’ll agree, but I’d like you to hear me out.”

  “Okay, you have my full attention.”

  “I want Salvio to stand trial for his crimes. Detective Lampani has a solid case in Vincenzo’s attack and the murder of Petro, his bodyguard. And he’s building a murder case against Salvio for Reynaldo Falconetti’s death. Their families deserve justice. And I haven’t forgotten he killed one of your men.”

  “You’re right, I don’t agree.”

  “Gio, please. He needs to go to trial. I’m asking you to hand him over to Detective Lampani.”

  “What about him trying to murder you? Would you be willing to be the star witness in a trial that’s guaranteed to become a circus?”

  “If it came to that, I could look him in the face and tell everyone what he did.”

  “So, you think I should hand him over to the authorities? What if he gets off on a technicality? With his wealth, he could buy a team of the best lawyers.”

  “I don’t see how he could get out of this.” Her plea became more impassioned as she ran through Detective Lampani’s long list of compelling evidence. “I’m begging you!”