Magic Island: What Happens In Venice: Book Three

by Diana Cachey

  What to do?

  As she thought it, Matteo walked to the bedroom to retrieve the other boot. She quickly grabbed her phone and texted Antonin, “I am running late, can you come an hour later?” She had no idea if Antonin would receive her text, but she knew Italians were glued to their phones like mussels on a jetty.

  She prayed, hurry, respond, and stared at the phone. If Matteo saw that message she was doomed. She had to receive it then delete it. Her phone vibrated back a response from Antonin, “Me late. Coming by boat. Docks flooded. I try.”

  Docks flooded? It hadn’t rained.

  Get rid of the phone, a voice in her head said.

  She turned off the phone, tucked it in the sofa pillows and stood up just before Matteo entered the room with her other boot. He pushed her back down on the sofa, threw one of her legs in air and put the boot on her while looking into her eyes the entire time. Then he pulled the other leg up and put both over his shoulders. That was the end of that. No more thinking. Just doing.

  Matteo, stingy in so many other ways, was not greedy in bed. He’d always been a most generous lover. He made sure she was satisfied first.

  She wasn’t sure if the thought of Antonin’s imminent arrival made the excitement greater, but how could it not? She was single. Unattached and unsure about either one of these men. One or both of them could be married.

  She thought she should care.

  But she didn’t.

  All she could see right now was the top of Matteo’s head and the heels of her boots.

  She closed her eyes and saw nothing. Then stars.

  When she opened her eyes she saw Matteo unzipping his jeans then grazing it across his erection so that it bounced. Neither of them laughed at that, the game was on.

  Louisa recalled the cicchetti in the fridge. Matteo might march straight to the fridge after sex, see the appetizers and know she was expecting a guest, probably a man.

  Think, think, she told herself. No answers came, as Matteo did.

  Was it okay to ask God to help when she was being so bad? Well, what was so bad, really? He was her ex-lover and they both still had more than mere sexual feelings for one another. They’d lived together, on and off, for more than three years. There was real love between them, not only lust.

  She was doing that love-lust analysis thing again.

  Just ask. Ask the saints for guidance.

  Had the saints told her to pray to them?

  Louisa only seems to pray when she needs out of a jam, she heard a voice in her head say. This time she knew the voice. It was Barbara’s voice that echoed in her head.

  Louisa prayed anyway, feeling a bit guilty about such a selfish prayer.

  Immediately, she heard a phone vibrate. Matteo looked around.

  Oh no, not my phone, she thought at first but then remembered she’d turned it off.

  Matteo jumped up half-naked, for he hadn’t bothered to remove his T-shirt, searched the pockets of his jeans, and stared at his phone.

  “Going now,” he said to her.

  I knew it, she thought, he never fails to be a bastardo.

  It could be the wife, a drug dealer, a friend, an ex-con. Someone needed him and he no longer needed Louisa.

  Then something odd happened. He sat down next to her, pulled her to him in loving embrace.

  “I am sorry, Louisa. It is important.”

  He was telling her, yes, he had a newborn daughter, and yes, his daughter needed him, and yes, he was sorry it wasn’t with her that he created this family.

  He looked at Louisa and, if she didn’t know him better, she would’ve thought she saw tears in his eyes. In fact, she knew him well-enough to know that’s exactly what they were, tears. He didn’t want to leave Louisa but he didn’t want not to go to his children. A Another fucked-up situation.

  She started to stress out but then envisioned the beautiful Antonin, adrift in his boat, looking for a place to dock to bring his sensual self to her.

  “You have time to shower before he arrives?” Matteo asked.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Was it that obvious all along?

  “Okay, buona fortuna. (good luck),” he said and departed.

  Perhaps it was farewell sex? Only time would tell.

  From her window, she watched him walk towards the vaporetto dock that she knew to be flooded. She thought she saw him pass Antonin, who came from the opposite direction, from somewhere other than the dock, and the two men greeted each other. She had no idea if they knew each other, if they knew the other was courting her or if they were merely being polite to another Venetian.

  She didn’t care. It was going to be a banner day.

  Two hot Venetians. For one lonely American.

  Thank goodness she had a bidet and perfume for a Parisian-style bath because there was no time to shower again.

  She dressed for her second date while a Verde symphony rose to its crescendo.

  Twenty minutes after her impromptu romp with Matteo and a brief bidet bath, she stood at her window looking out onto an empty campo. Her second Venetian had not arrived.

  Outside it now poured rain. The docks, which were probably not flooded when Antonin had texted, were most likely covered in water now.

  Where was Antonin when he called and why had he lied about the floods?

  More than an hour since he texted her, he’d not shown at her door.

  Who was it that she saw earlier in the campo passing Matteo? A twin? Or a ghost?

  Louisa didn’t know how it had happened, but she somehow ended up getting on the wrong bus this afternoon. The Matteo bus.

  She’d planned to take the dinner route with Antonin but had detoured to the sofa with Matteo. She’d never had sex with two men in the same day before, but she knew women who had done it, and none of them complained. Most relished the experience.

  “They give their heart to you, not the other way around,” had said one woman, “That’s the best route to take.” The woman explained why it was okay to sleep around with different men at the same time and sometimes even in the same day.

  Whatever route Louisa had taken today, she worried it was not the best.

  She’d figured she’d give it try — if given the opportunity, which earlier had been forthcoming — of embracing a second Venetian in a twenty-four hour period.

  Instead, she’d been dumped. Or at least, stood up.

  She peered out her window again and spied two umbrellas moving towards her building. Two shadowy, tall figures huddled under one of them, which appeared to be a man and woman. They stopped to ring the bell, she recognized the woman as Barbara.

  Louisa opened her door to find a surprise trio —Massimo, her sister and Antonin, who looked sheepish and shivering. Barbara spoke first.

  “Poor Antonin, he chased that bastard all the way to Lido then lost him.”

  “What? Who?” Louisa said.

  “Here is what I have to say to you,” Antonin began but Massimo interrupted him.

  “We have no time for explanation now.” Something about how Massimo said it screamed to her, “bad girl.”

  Barbara looked at Massimo as if she wanted to slap him.

  Ever my protector, thought Louisa, even when I’ve misbehaved.

  Massimo began moving around her apartment with the swiftness of a cat on the trail of its next meal. He gathered up her coat, hat, gloves and scarf, filled bottles with water from the tap and rifled through her drawers in her bedroom.

  When Louisa went towards him to stop him, Barbara blocked her path.

  “Don’t,” was all Barbara would say and, for some reason, Louisa knew to listen.

  Confused, Louisa had barely noticed “poor Antonin” who sat quietly on the same sofa where, only an hour ago, she’d had sex with an old boyfriend. Where she’d frolicked about with a new father and possibly a married man, while feigning to waited for her date with him, him, this most elegant specimen.

  She remembered Antonin being handsome, but blind
ed by his bare chest that day in the attic, she had not realized why she thought that was so. Seeing him now, she noticed his classic Venetian squared jaw, the long chin and pointed nose that on any other race would look odd, but on a Venetian who’d grown into these features became a magnificent combination worn like royalty.

  His arms rested on his knees, with fingers linked in front of that belt buckle, which again peeked out under his cashmere sweater. When he looked up into her eyes she saw something she hadn’t seen the first time, a small scar running diagonally from his temple through one eyebrow.

  He motioned over to her and patted the sofa cushion next to him. She sat down such that their bodies touched at every possible point.

  That romp with Matteo was, most definitely, farewell sex, but not farewell from Matteo. Louisa was saying her farewell to Matteo. How very Venetian of her.

  This man, this Antonin, was the new one. The one. He was hers.

  She caught herself thinking about how she had judged all those women who thought everything was love, not lust. She got it now. Not so dumb. Very smart.

  He unlocked his hands but only long enough to grab one of hers and place it between his two.

  She felt that feeling again. Sex in a bottle. Not the sex in a bottle like how she felt with the gondolier in the Accademia art museum. No, this was sex in a bottle with someone dear. Dear enough that his hand holding hers could satisfy her.

  He leaned over, kissed her ear, ran his tongue around it, inside it and bit the lobe. He turned and placed his scarred eyebrow near her mouth. She didn’t bother kissing it, she licked it.

  With that he closed both lids in a look of sheer ecstasy. He took a deep breath and shifted his hip as if something was also shifting under his belt buckle. With a slight turn of the head, he smiled at her.

  “Come on,” ordered Massimo.

  They all piled out the door and into the campo. She and Antonin huddled under one umbrella and under another umbrella walked her sister and Massimo.

  Louisa had concluded that Massino was indeed perfect for her sister. Uptight and bossy.

  “Where are we going?” asked Louisa but when Barbara tried to answer, Massimo shushed her.

  “We will tell you when we get to the boat,” whispered Antonin, who seemed to be following orders as well from Massimo.

  Since Barbara had become his girlfriend, Louisa tended to ignore the fact that Massimo was not only law enforcement but the police department’s chief of staff for forensic medicine. Perhaps respect was due.

  Perhaps not, thought Louisa. She was pissed and felt like a pawn of both Matteo and Massimo. She also wondered about Antonin, although once again was swayed by his beauty, as she had been by Matteo’s charisma earlier.

  “You made a huge mistake today with Matteo,” barked Massimo. “You gave him an opportunity to go in your room, alone.”

  They rounded the corner to the nearest dock and there stood Rouge and Tom with his boat bobbing up and down in the rain. She had assumed they were taking Antonin’s boat, wherever they were going.

  Why were Rouge and Tom involved? When she looked at Rouge, Rouge gave her a “don’t worry be happy look,” one that only a sex-addict could have at a time like this.

  They were obviously on a chase for Matteo and something bad had happened. Very bad.

  Once on the boat, Louisa assumed they were headed for Lido, the only place that had been mentioned. Rouge scooted over towards Louisa.

  “So . . . you had a visitor today?”

  Louisa gave her a look to be silent. Rouge continued anyway.

  “Everyone knows.”

  Louisa’s heart sank.

  “Even Antonin?”

  “He’s the one who saw him leave.”

  If Antonin had seen Matteo leave her apartment, he didn’t seem jealous. He seemed more concerned about whatever they were racing after.

  “What’s going on?” said Louisa.

  “They are concerned about a package that Matteo might deliver to some fishermen in Burano, that is all I know. I only know it because Tom told me. In bed.”

  Rouge was the only woman Tom ever invited to stay overnight at the palazzo while his wife was out of town.

  “So he did let you stay at the palazzo? How did you arrange that?”

  “I spank him. He likes it. Plus, I let him wear my heels.”

  Louisa laughed then choked a bit. She felt woozy.

  “A package from Matteo?” she said, her words a bit slurred.

  “Yes, it has always been about Matteo’s package, hasn’t it? This trip of yours? We’ve come full circle to that,” she whispered to Louisa, who understood the double-meaning.

  She elbowed Rouge hard. Rouge jumped, the boat bounced and they both roared with laughter, which no one else paid any attention to in the race to intercept “Matteo’s package.”

  This levity lightened the sinking feeling Louisa had started to have ever since she realized that again she’d presumed the best about Matteo -- that is, the devoted father had rushed off to dote on daughters.

  What happened was he got the call to move. To move something, some goods, so he moved. Abruptly. After their lovemaking.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, darling,” Rouge said when she saw Louisa’s face. “It was good sex? It always is with Matteo’s package.”

  “Uh huh,” said Louisa. Her stomach flipped when the boat lurched.

  “I think this other one may be even better.” Rouge nodded at Antonin, who sat next to Tom at the helm now. He was speaking loudly into his cell phone.

  “What?” Louisa looked at Rouge. Rouge just nodded at Antonin, wagged her tongue and fanned herself.

  Thank goodness Rouge is here. She makes everything less serious.

  Louisa’s mind raced through all of the things in her room that Matteo could have taken from her apartment.

  Research for the ghost expert? Check. Note from gondolier? Check. Money? Check. Gun from pigeon man? Check. Gun? Check, for sure. Money and a gun would be the first things Matteo would grab. Oh no, not the gun. Where was it? She remembered she’d wisely hidden it, in the cove under the altana, with her cash. Matteo hadn’t gone up onto to her roof or onto the altana. The gun and her cash were safe.

  Her underwear? He might steal some of her underwear for kicks. Underwear accounted for? Check. Drawing of the dolphin? Check?

  Wait, no dolphin drawing? Matteo knew about the drawing. He had mentioned it several times over the past few weeks.

  Why would he take that? Had he taken that? How was Matteo’s theft related to those dolphins or the glassmaker deaths?

  Louisa stared at the horizon, not seeing the passing boats. She saw glimpses of coastal homes flash by through blurred vision as tears from wind and emotion streamed down her cheeks. They passed the Lido and raced towards Burano.

  Louisa felt a set of eyes on her. Antonin sat in front of her at the helm with Rouge and Tom flanking both sides of him. Massimo? She looked and saw him sitting starboard near the stern. He scowled at her.

  How dare he judge me, she thought.

  I’m not judging you, his eyes said.

  As he beckoned her over to him, she saw terror in his eyes.

  She could barely walk to the stern with the action of the waves under the boat. A rising stupor also seemed to be filling her head.

  “We know Matteo is involved,” he said to her.

  “But how?”

  “I’ve tracked some of his movements, and yours, everything, through your thoughts.”

  Louisa’s vision blurred as her eyes rolled back into her head. Then the scene went black.

  She didn’t stir again until morning. A wig and mini dress were still on the chair from her Carnival party a few nights ago. But also draped over her chair was a taut tanned torso.

  Antonin was bare and barely covered by a small sheet. She pulled off her own sheet to display her nakedness, walked to his side then dropped to her knees and stared at her sleeping angel.

  God he’s so …
Not sleeping.

  He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap under the sheet. On the chair, she easily straddled him and leaned over to kiss his eyes, nose, mouth, ears. He ran his hands down her breasts, stomach, buttocks. She melted further into him.

  What happened last night? She didn’t remember a thing.

  “We think Matteo drugged you,” he said seeing her confused look. Then he instantly pulled her forward so her legs couldn’t touch the floor and she couldn’t ask any more questions. He wrapped her legs around him and began to moan and she began to rock.

  No drug of Matteo’s could ever be this good.

  Her skinned flushed, mouth wetted by his tongue, she slumped over, rubbed her long locks all over as much of him as she could without removing her legs from around him. With a sudden jolt, he threw her to the ground but the ground felt so good, they ground into it.

  Explanations about Matteo drugging her and everything else from the night before would have to wait. Sex with Antonin could not.

  A loud, unending knock aroused her from her slumber and she begrudgingly pulled herself off and away from Antonin. Rouge was at the door and had insisted it be answered by the sheer ferocity of her knock.

  “Is he here,” she said when Louisa stepped into the hallway, “and I don’t mean Matteo.”

  “Yes,” Louisa whispered.

  “Are you sure you got the right zemei this time.” Zemei was Venetian for twin.

  What did I do while drugged last night? What twin? Whose twin? Oh god no. How long was I out of it? What did I do?

  Reading Louisa’s concerned look, Rouge laughed.

  “Mmmm, you started making out with his twin brother,” said Rouge, “the minute you set eyes on him in Burano.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Not joking. But we stopped you, before it went too far.”

  “Oh god,” Louisa started to slump down. Rouge pulled her up by her shoulders.

  “I think Tom was a bit jealous and/or wanted to watch.”