by Nina Singh
“One should never regret visiting Venice.”
She swallowed the piece of bread she’d bitten into. “Look how much trouble I’ve been. And it’s only day two,” she said on a miserable-sounding groan.
“Then we must assume it’s only going to get better from here.”
She grunted a laugh. The sound held no amusement. “It couldn’t get much lower, could it?”
“Come now. Things could have been much worse.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, you could have been hurt during your fall. You haven’t broken anything. By tomorrow, all of this will be forgotten. After all, I didn’t see anyone with a phone out, filming or snapping photos.”
The blood rushed from her face as she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Are you sure? That would be all I need. To have all this posted somewhere online for everyone to witness.”
“Including the bastardo?”
“Yes! Even him!”
Interesting phrasing on her part. Something tightened in his chest at the look of horror on her face. This former fiancé of hers had done quite a number on her. Despite his betrayal, she desperately cared still what he thought of her. The man clearly hadn’t deserved the affections of such a lady. “Relax,” he reassured her. “I was watching the scene as it unfolded. No one had any type of recording device.”
Relief flooded her face. Then, to his surprise, she let out a small chuckle. “I’m guessing it was quite a sight to behold.”
Vito bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing himself. She noticed his struggle. “It’s all right. Go ahead and laugh. I won’t take it personally.”
He clasped his chest in mock offense. “I would never laugh at a lady in such a manner.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m sure I looked quite ridiculous as I lost my footing and splashed into the water.”
“On the contrary, it was quite a graceful fall. Perhaps the most elegant instance of a lady tripping I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.”
“Somehow I doubt it. I’m certain it wasn’t my most ladylike moment.”
“I think being too ladylike is overrated, myself.”
Her lips tightened. “So I’ve been told.”
Indeed, he’d been right. The fiancé had left a mark on her psyche that would last for a long while. Vito felt a sudden intense dislike for a faceless man he wouldn’t know if they crossed paths on the nearest bridge.
“I think you should forget everything this man ever told you,” he ventured, though he knew he was perilously close to crossing a line. After all, he’d barely met the woman. For all he knew, her ex-fiancé was the love of her life. A loss she might never get over. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on told him that wasn’t the case. Still, the tightness in his chest intensified. How silly of him.
“I’ll have to give that a try.” Her words were utterly unconvincing. She’d be licking her wounds for some time.
He wished he could find the right words to say, words that might reassure her, persuade her that this Matt wasn’t worth the love she’d wasted on him. Even given what little he knew of the situation, he had no doubt the man had been given a gift and had been too selfish to cherish it.
As if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thought, coming from someone like him, of all people.
“I wish there was a way I could be of help, cara,” he said, dropping the endearment without thinking. Her surprised intake of breath told him she was familiar with the word.
“You’ve done more than enough.”
“Yet here you are. Miserable and alone on a trip that was clearly meant to be a romantic getaway.”
She slumped where she sat. “It was supposed to be so much more than that.”
“Oh?”
“My grandmother won this trip for me at a charity auction. To raise money for a substance abuse shelter on Martha’s Vineyard. She spent a good chunk of her retirement savings on my behalf.”
And she felt guilty about that. His artist’s eye could almost see it manifested. The guilt practically sat like a heavy, tangible weight on her shoulders. “Sounds like a deserving and noble cause.”
“It was. She wanted the trip to be an early wedding present. A pre-honeymoon. Because she knew how much I’ve always wanted to see the historic art of the European continent. Matt would have never agreed to come if we’d had to pay for it ourselves. He’s more a tropical island type of traveler.”
“I see.”
“It was such a generous gesture on her part. She’d tell me about all the marvelous trips she and my grandfather used to take. She wanted me to be able to experience something like it firsthand.”
“Well, all I have to say is—better solo than never. Does that make sense as an American idiom?”
The pensive look on her face gave him the answer to that question. “I know what you mean,” she assured him. “Nevertheless. I never should have attempted it alone. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m going to cut this trip short. And stay in my room in the meantime. It was foolish of me to think I could enjoy this after everything that happened back in Boston. I’ve been kidding myself.”
Vito couldn’t help his next move. Reaching across the table, he took her trembling hand into his own. “I would be completely remiss as a Venetian if I allowed that to happen, cara. You mustn’t leave. Not just yet.”
* * *
“How can I let you leave this majestic city so soon? And without the opportunity to fully explore it?” Vito Rameri wanted to know.
A jolt of awareness flashed between them as he took her hand in his. For a moment Maya couldn’t get her mouth to work. Electricity seemed to sparkle along her skin, originating at the exact spot where he touched her.
Once she managed to get her brain to focus, Maya wanted to answer him with a few questions of her own, albeit rhetorical ones. Questions like: How could she go on acting the happy tourist when her whole reality had just crumpled? How could she pretend all the activities she’d been so looking forward to as part of a couple would be anything less than awkward for her now?
Slowly she pulled her hand out of his gentle grip. She was clearly overcompensating for Matt’s rejection. Looking for validation from a stranger. Sure, that stranger happened to be achingly handsome. Straight out of a romance novel. But she’d be remiss to start reading things into small gestures.
It was no wonder she was overreacting to the man before her. He was simply being kind. Worse, he’d probably taken pity on her. How pathetic that she thought there was some kind of mysterious current between them.
“I don’t know,” she began. “Day two didn’t go so well.”
“It’s not over yet, however.”
She supposed he had a point. And she could have done worse than meeting this charming, charismatic man. Though she would have preferred a much different set of circumstances leading to said meeting.
She watched as he poured more coffee into both their cups. What if they’d met under different circumstances? What if somehow she’d made this journey years ago as a single woman? Or perhaps with a bunch of girlfriends? She imagined wandering into his studio purely by coincidence, simply to admire a local artist’s work. What might such a different introduction have led to? Would they have hit it off? She wasn’t the type of woman to typically attract a man like the one she sat eating with right now. But maybe, just maybe, he would have seen something in her.
Who was she kidding? Vito Rameri probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance under normal circumstances. It took literally falling into a canal for someone like her to be noticed by the likes of him.
She wasn’t the striking, alluring type. In fact, it had taken her by surprise two years ago when the outgoing, successful, not to mention strikingly handsome son of her uncle’s business partner had first ask
ed her out. She’d almost been too stunned to accept his invitation to a leisurely pasta lunch in Boston’s North End. To her further shock, Matt seemed to have genuinely enjoyed her company that afternoon. So much so that he’d asked her out again before their lunch was even over.
Maya had hoped she might have finally found the man who would help her create the kind of future she so desperately craved. A future with a family of her own. Not one she’d been thrust into after tragedy had left her orphaned and alone. One she actually felt she belonged in and fit into.
But she had to admit that, deep down, she’d sensed something wasn’t right about the whole thing. Even on that first lunch date, the vibe between her and Matt had seemed forced. Rather than giving her the future she so desperately wanted, she’d known somehow Matt was going to let her down. Or vice versa.
Maya had ignored the warning bells that seemed to go off every step of the way. Those bells had morphed into all-out ringing alarms when Matt proposed. In many ways, he was too much for her. Too outgoing, too talkative, too everything. They’d both known and done their best to pretend not to. She’d also ignored her suspicions that she’d been nothing more to Matt than a convenient way to present himself as a settled and serious career professional rather than the philandering party man he really was. Again, she’d foolishly brushed it all aside.
She looked up to find Vito studying her. “You appear to have drifted off thousands of miles. Back to Boston, perhaps?”
Maya gave a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Just thinking about some things, is all.”
“I saw.” He leaned back, inhaled. “Did anyone tell you that you have the most transparent face?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s almost as if your features completely alter as your thoughts do. It’s difficult to explain.”
As far as lines went, that was a new one. If Vito was trying to come on to her, this was the most unusual way she’d ever heard.
“No. I can honestly say that no one has ever told me that before.”
“It’s true. Someone who creates art for a living can see it clearly.”
Yeah, that was definitely not any kind of flirtation on his part. “Well, I think you may be the first real artist I’ve met. No one’s actually commented on my face that I can recall.”
She saw his hand move ever so slightly before he curled his fingers into his palm. For an insane moment, she thought he might have been about to touch her. She imagined him trailing a finger along her jawline, cupping her cheek in his palm. A shiver ran down her spine.
The effect of his gaze was hypnotic. He wasn’t so much looking at her as discovering, exploring her features. The air around them suddenly grew thick. In that moment, Maya had the strangest notion that she somehow knew this man. Had known him forever. She’d seen him in her dreams, heard his voice in her imaginings.
Or maybe she’d actually hit her head on the side of the gondola while toppling over the side.
“I have a confession to make,” he stated. His tone as he spoke the words took her breath away. “I’m afraid you may not like it.”
CHAPTER THREE
MAYA COULDN’T QUITE decide if she liked it or not. It was hard to believe what she was looking at. Was that really her depicted on the easel Vito had led her to?
He’d sketched her as she slept. At least, she thought it was her. For the woman portrayed on the canvas in charcoal appeared to be another version of herself.
“You’re not saying anything, cara.” Vito spoke softly behind her as she stood staring at the easel.
“I’m not really sure what to say.”
“I will destroy it if you wish. We can pretend it never existed.” The stiff quality of his tone told her clearly it would pain him to do so.
But was that what she wanted? Part of her felt flattered, proud that she’d provided any kind of inspiration to an artist of his caliber. Because he was clearly talented, given what she was looking at.
Another part, however, felt more than a little uneasy, as if her privacy had been breached when she hadn’t even been aware.
She cleared her throat. “No. Don’t do that. I just—I just need a moment to decide how I feel.”
“That sounds fair.”
“I’ve never been drawn by anyone before. I can’t even really tell if it’s indeed me.”
“It is most definitely a sketch of you. Why do you not see it, I wonder?”
She scrounged for the words to explain. Maybe the alcohol was still addling her mind, but it was tough to summon them. “I don’t know exactly. It’s just that this woman on the paper...she seems much more...at peace with herself and her life. Confident in the decisions she’s made.” How he’d portrayed all that in one quick sketch was truly magical. She found herself in awe of his talent.
“This is my profession. As an artist, I capture what I see.”
Maya trailed a finger along the edge of the paper. “And this is truly how you saw me as I slept?”
“It is how I see you,” Vito answered with no hesitation.
Though it was flattering, she knew she couldn’t read too much into his depiction of her. The man had laid eyes on her mere hours before. He had no idea who she really was. He didn’t know any of the decisions she’d made that had led her to where she was right now—alone and licking her wounds. If Vito knew all that, he’d have drawn her much differently. Of that she had no doubt.
“If I may ask, what compelled you?”
“To put your likeness down on paper, you mean?”
Maya nodded. Surely he had better things to do, could have easily found a better subject. She had no doubt she was merely an inconvenience; the poor man had felt compelled to assist her as no one else seemed willing to. So she had no idea what his motivations may have been. She was far from muse-like.
So she was surprised with his answer. “You’re one of those rare people whose inner strength can be seen clearly on the outside. It’s a very uncommon quality.”
Maya had to laugh at that. She couldn’t have heard him right. In fact, none of this seemed real. Maybe she was still asleep on his sofa, having an alcohol-or concussion-fueled dream. Or perhaps she should go even farther back than that. Maybe she really had managed to injure herself during the fall from the gondola. And she was actually lying in an Italian hospital somewhere in the midst of a deep coma.
Dream or coma, Vito didn’t return her laugh. “I see you find that amusing.”
“Only because it’s quite ridiculous. You obviously see something that isn’t there.”
“Or something you refuse to see yourself. Because you’ve let someone else convince you what’s real.”
Ouch. Served her right for confiding in a stranger. This random man she hadn’t even known existed a day ago knew all too well about her humiliation. Maya felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Why had she ever left her hotel room? In fact, why had she ever left Boston?
The question made her cringe inside. She had to admit there was a very simple reason. She’d told herself that she hadn’t wanted to let her Grandmama down, but the truth was that she hadn’t been able to face her family after what Matt had done. She couldn’t handle the thought of standing in front of the four most perfect people she knew to let them know that she’d failed. Even though none of it was her fault. Matt had been the one to throw away their relationship. She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t been enough for him.
So she’d fled. And it had been a mistake to do so.
Because now some stranger was trying to psychoanalyze her. Irritation skittered along her skin. He may have helped her out of a sticky situation, but he had no right to try and read her or judge her in any way. She was beginning to wonder if she was some type of magnet for overbearing men all over the world.
“Don’t pretend to know me,” she bit out. “You really have no idea who I am.
”
“Maybe I know more than you think.”
“Or maybe you’re simply a heavy-handed alpha male who’s much too quick to make blanket judgments about people he’s just met,” she snapped without thinking.
Vito chuckled. That made her irritation turn to anger. Now he was laughing at her.
“And why is that amusing to you?” she demanded to know.
“Because you’re so clearly proving my point.”
That was it, she’d had enough. She had no idea if there was some kind of language barrier that was fueling this agitating conversation. But she wasn’t willing to participate in it any longer.
“Destroy the sketch or don’t. I don’t care. But I think I should be going. If you would get me my clothing, please.”
Vito studied her face before silently and slowly nodding. “Of course. If you’re sure you feel well enough.”
“I feel fine. And I’ll find a way to repay your hospitality. I’m in Venice for a few more days.” Only now that she’d said the words, she realized exactly what a difficult feat that would be. Now that the fog was slowly lifting in her brain, she distinctly remembered her phone and clutch purse falling into the water right before she’d gone over herself.
Which led to another embarrassing predicament. She had no idea how to get back to her hotel on foot. And she had no cash fare for any kind of boat ride.
She was at Vito Rameri’s mercy yet again.
* * *
The atmosphere around them had definitely grown awkward. Vito knew he had only himself to blame. Obviously he’d learned nothing from all his mistakes of the past.
Maya was right. He was heavy-handed. And hopelessly incapable of sensitivity to others’ feelings. He should never have shown Maya the sketch. Better yet, he should never have drawn it in the first place.
But when he’d come down to check on her, she’d seemed so serene and peaceful on his office couch. The way her arm was draped casually over a plush cushion. The afternoon sun sending shadows along her skin. She really had looked like something out of a classic Renaissance painting. The woman had just been pulled out of the murky summer Venetian water and she’d looked none the worse for wear.