Alessandro handed his axe to Columbo. “I’m going in from upstairs,” he said.
He ran around the corner and was up the ladder in seconds. The shutters and windows had been smashed open and the piano nobile was littered with broken glass and splintered wood, a cappuccino maker the only sign that someone was occupying the space.
Where the hell is the door to the ground floor?
He ran through the rooms, wrenching open doors as he went, but none led downstairs. Mystified, he looked down at the terrazzo floor, knowing that trying to axe his way through it would be futile. He could still hear the blows of the axes, while over his radio came a triumphant cry: “We’ve got one!”
But Alessandro couldn’t revel in that victory with Olivia still trapped below. Dejected, he looked down at his feet, suddenly noticing that the rug beneath him was wet.
As he was wondering what that meant, he thought he heard something. Not much, a scratch maybe, but it was enough to make him throw back the rug. A trapdoor!
It was padlocked. Taking his gun, he blew off the lock, careful not to shoot through the wood. Looking up, he saw Pamela. “Help me,” he said.
Grasping the iron ring set in the wood, together they pulled it up to reveal Orlando, Marco, and Olivia huddled on the steps, their eyes closed.
He was too late.
Kneeling down, he and Pamela pulled them out as quickly as they could, their clothes leaving puddles on the marble floor.
“Marco and Orlando are alive!” Pamela cried. “Bring some blankets,” she said into her radio. “We’ll need another ambulance too.” She looked at Alessandro. “Olivia?” she whispered with little hope in her voice.
As Alessandro leaned over to listen for Olivia’s breathing, her eyes opened, and she coughed.
“Thank God!” he cried, taking her into his arms as she choked a sob into his chest. “I have you now, and I’m never going to let you go.”
Epilogue
It was a beautiful October afternoon, and Olivia Moretti was gliding down the Grand Canal in a flower-bedecked gondola on her way to marry Alessandro Rossi at the Salute. Her mother sat next to her while Olivia’s sister, Claudia, and Alessandro’s cousin Beatrix sat opposite in their bridesmaids’ dresses of wine-colored silk.
“I only wish Dad were here,” Olivia said wistfully.
“I feel like he is,” her mother answered, fussing with the hem of Olivia’s Burano lace gown.
Claudia nodded. “Me too, but I do wish Beatrix would stop waving so much. Those
tourists probably think she’s the bride.”
“I do speak English,” Beatrix said to Claudia with her usual good humor. She stood up in the gondola. “My cousin is getting married today!” she called out with joyful exuberance. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
The tourists agreed. Cheering, they snapped some pictures, while Claudia looked mortified.
Olivia laughed with genuine affection at her sister. Claudia had done her best to relax, but in temperament she was the polar opposite of Beatrix. “I’d love to send you two away on vacation together,” Olivia said. “You’d never be the same.”
Claudia surprised her by returning her laugh. “Something tells me only one of us would come back alive.”
Olivia lifted the bouquet of orchids Alessandro had sent that morning, according to custom, and breathed in their heady scent. She loved him so much. That he was from one of the wealthiest families in Europe was just icing on the most perfect cake.
Alessandro had sold the palazzo he’d shared with Katarina on the Giudecca and bought one on the Grand Canal. He and Olivia had been living at his apartment on Sant’Elena while the palazzo renovations were going on, but they were almost complete now, and they would be moving in upon their return from their honeymoon in the Seychelles.
After the daring rescue, Alessandro had resigned from the Guardia di Finanza to concentrate on philanthropy. He threw in the odd piano recital and car race too. “To keep my father and fans happy,” he said, but Olivia could see he loved it every bit as much as they did.
She (or rather, Alessandro) had purchased Marco’s share in Silvio Milan and was making occasional trips to the Toronto gallery. Olivia could have sent someone else, but it gave her a chance to visit her family and friends, when they weren’t coming to visit her.
As the nightmare of the kidnapping faded, she’d forgiven Marco, and he was out on a day pass for the wedding. He still had six months to serve on a sentence that had been greatly lessened thanks to his brave but futile efforts to go for help and for cooperating fully with the investigation that had landed Dino and everyone associated with him in prison for a very, very long time.
Marco had lost everything, including his Venetian palazzo, but he came out of it all a little wiser and—as life is often stranger than fiction—dating the man of his dreams: Orlando, the world’s greatest fan of Happy Spiders.
Silvio hadn’t quite recovered from Pamela’s decision not to leave her husband for him and so, handing over the reins of Silvio Milan to Walter and Olivia for a few months, went on sabbatical to Lake Como, staying at his close friend George Clooney’s villa, where, as Pamela sarcastically observed, he soothed his wounded feelings by sailing around the lake with the world’s most beautiful models.
Fabio had been hurt by Pamela’s infidelity but finally told off his mother in an attempt to win back his wife and took Pamela on their first vacation since their honeymoon.
Olivia’s gondola glided into the dock at the Salute, and the gondolier helped the four women out. Along with tourists, the square was filled with press and paparazzi, and the smiles Olivia gave them were utterly genuine. “What a beautiful bride” rippled through the crowd.
“Sure you don’t want to change your mind?” Columbo asked teasingly as he offered her his arm. In the absence of her father, he was giving her away.
“Not a chance, you old cynic,” she said, taking his arm and kissing him on the cheek. She caught her mother smiling at her through tears. “Don’t cry, Mom,” she said with mock sternness. “If you start, I will too.”
The crowd parted, and with Beatrix and Claudia leading the way, they walked up the stone steps and into the church, their entrance greeted with triumphant chords played on the pipe organ. The chapel was in a nave at the far end of the church, but they were being married in the center, beneath the great dome.
She saw Alessandro waiting there for her. My God, he was going to be her husband! How lucky could she be?
As they met in front of the priest, Alessandro leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispered back as they turned to the priest, and the ceremony was conducted with all the solemnity it deserved, until the kiss, when everyone in the church erupted into cheers and applause.
Husband and wife turned and smiled at all their friends and family, as grateful for them as for each other.
She laughed at Claudia, looking red in the face as Phil cheered. Alessandro had promised to let him drive his car, and Phil had been like a kid waiting for Christmas ever since. Everyone from Silvio Milan was there. And not just the Venice office, but London, New York, and Toronto too. Alessandro’s father was there with many of the family and friends who’d come to his birthday at the opera house, as well as his mother with her handsome young husband, and Alessandro’s spritz-hating old aunt. Placido, in his military uniform, sat with his fiancée behind Rocco and his and Katarina’s parents. Marco sat smiling next to Orlando (iPhone tucked in his pocket). Dressed by Pamela in a uniform, Maria sat proudly among the many uniformed officers from the Guardia di Finanza, for whom she still believed she worked, her smile even wider than Olivia’s.
Just as the organ started up with another triumphant march, Olivia noticed a new commotion among Alessandro’s former Guardia colleagues. “What are they up to?” she whispered.
She didn’t have to wait long for an answer, as suddenly she and Alessandro were surrounded by dozens of wind-up teeth. The teeth scooted around the floor, dozens more joining those that had already wound down.
Laughter joined the chattering noise, and it echoed joyously around the ancient church as Alessandro and Olivia emerged onto the stone steps, Venice spread out before them, glinting magically in the bright autumn sunshine.
Alessandro scooped Olivia up into his arms and kissed her as behind them guests cheered and press cameras set up in the square snapped and flashed nonstop.
Tomorrow’s headlines would read: The Billionaire of Venice and His New Bride Find Their Happily Ever After.
About the Author
Meadow Taylor is the author of the contemporary romance novels The Billionaire’s Secrets and Falling for Rain and the short stories “Christmas in Venice” and “Christmas in Bruges.” Midnight in Venice is the continuation of the tale begun in “Christmas in Venice.” Meadow Taylor is the pen name of two celebrated Canadian authors of historical fiction.
Facebook: Meadow Taylor
Twitter: @meadowtaylor1
Copyright
Midnight in Venice
Copyright © 2014 by Gina Buonaguro and Janice Kirk.
All Rights Reserved.
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
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EPub Edition: August 2014
EPub ISBN: 9781443438964
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