by Dee Palmer
“I don’t mean it like that. I’m sorry if I upset you. What I meant was, I thought for one night you could perhaps do an exhibition piece for my charity. One last chance to submit to Mistress Selina for the highest bidder. I would be honoured if you would consider it, at least.” His eyes soften, and his tone is genuine and pleading. He signals to a crewmember who brings forward the pièce de résistance—the mask. Not just any mask. This is the one that caught my attention last night. Fiery red ostrich feathers with black tips act as the headpiece, rubies over a shimmery red silk, the whole face covered in jewels and swirling intricate patterns. In the shop window it was mesmerizing. Now, in the brightest Mediterranean spring sun, it is absolutely breathtaking.
“I will consider it.” I glance over to Gabriel who does his best to not look too smug. His lips curve in a slight smile. I repeat my answer, more for my benefit. “I said consider, understand?”
“Of course, Mist—” He stops himself when I narrow my eyes. “Let me take some of these to your room. You might want to check I got your size right.” He stands and takes one bag and motions for the waiting crew to take the rest.
“I imagine you got my size spot on.”
“I imagine I did.” He grins and disappears down the stairs.
I fold the tissue paper back over the gown and a postcard flutters to the floor. I pick it up and shake my head. One side is glossy black with The Gathering embossed in the same raised print. I run my fingers over the bumps. I can’t believe he did this. What Gabriel wants…Gabriel gets. The other side is gold with thick scrolled type, a vague address, time, and in big bold script slap bang in the centre:
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, but I’m still strangely surprised by the warm rush of feelings burning hard in my chest. I may not be able to smile just yet, and I know I feel more than a little lost, but this…this is something I know. I swing my legs to the side and rush after him.
“Gabe!” I call once I hit the bottom of the curved stairway. His stateroom occupies one end of the massive boat and the main lounge the other, and I’m far too lazy to be sprinting the entire length to track him down. I catch Joshua, one of the crewmembers, as he is about to pass. “Excuse me, you didn’t see where Mr Wexler went did you?”
“He’s retired for his…” He pauses and blinks nervously. His cheeks flush with colour, which is cute. “…um… nap, signora.”
“That’s fine. I won’t disturb his ‘nap’.” I use my fingers to air quote. There is no way Gabriel is the type to need a nap though I’m happy with the euphemism. “Is Oliver on duty?”
“You need to go somewhere, signora?”
“Yes, I’d like to visit Murano, if he’s available. Or I can get a water taxi, if someone could call one for me. I really don’t mind.”
He looks horrified at the suggestion of public transport. “No, signora, I’m sure that won’t be a problem. If Oliver is not available, someone will be able to take you wherever you need to go,” he insists with an earnest expression that borders on deadly serious.
“Okay, that’s great.” He visibly relaxes, which almost makes me laugh. “I’m going to get changed and grab my purse. I won’t be five minutes.”
“Very good, signora.” The young crewmember gives me a bright smile and curt nod before turning away. I do the same but in the opposite direction, skipping off toward my cabin.
There are several unpacked boxes stacked in the corner of my room along with the coffin containing my costume. The rest have been put away. I open up the double wardrobe to find all the beautiful clothing Gabriel bought for me has been hung up. Gosh, they were quick.
I pick out some white capri trousers and an off the shoulder, black, ribbed top. Most of the shoes Gabriel has selected are sky high and not built for comfort, though there is a cute pair of white ballet slippers with large crystal flowers sewn on the toe. I slip those on, tie a plain silk scarf around my neck, and take the sunglass case from the dressing table that wasn’t there this morning. I open it to find a pair of classic Chanel shades that complete my homage to the 1950’s Hepburn look Gabriel was obviously going for, judging by most of the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. I slip my purse in my pocket and, not for the first time, relish the absence of my phone. It’s easier to keep from checking who’s not calling when you don’t have the damn thing with you.
The Riva is idling, the engine purring and waiting, as is Oliver in his crisp whites and smart, slicked-back hair.
“Joshua said you would like to go to Murano Island?” He holds his hand out for me to take as I step into the much smaller boat and quickly sit down.
“Yes, if it’s no trouble.” The most I can manage is a half-smile.
“No trouble at all and maybe to Burano as well. It’s where the lace comes from.” His smile, on the other hand, is dazzling, and his face alive with excitement at his suggestion.
“Oh yes, that would be lovely, thank you.” I nod my approval, which thankfully, is enough for him to jump into action.
“My pleasure.” He releases the boat from its moorings and steers us away from the Ambrosia and out into the lagoon and beyond.
I spent an hour or so on Burano wandering along the narrow streets with row after row of vibrant and pastel collared houses. The island is tiny and entirely dependent on the tourist trade. All the shops stock only products for the influx of visitors to this popular spot. As Oliver said, it’s mostly lace, and some of it is exquisite. Although I’m really after a gift for Gabriel. I don’t think a tablecloth will quite cut it.
I have more luck on Murano. The neighbouring island is slightly bigger and has some large glass factories, which it’s world famous for. One I entered had a small showroom, and when I expressed an interest in one piece, the owner took me upstairs to an enormous warehouse filled with every type of glass sculpture one could image. The large space had been broken into smaller rooms, each with different styles, from classic to modern, mirrors and ornaments, some of the most stunning pieces I have ever seen, all hidden away.
I pick a sleek piece that is named after the gondolas. It is more abstract and stretches almost a full meter in length. The Silver Dogaressa. The proprietor insists on delivering it personally when I give him the name of the Gabriel’s yacht. I think Oliver and I would struggle, not so much with the weight, just the fragility.
I pick at a tricolored salad for my late lunch in a small restaurant overlooking the harbour. The basil is so fresh the fragrance would normally have me drooling, yet all my senses are sedated. The waitress takes my nearly full plate away, and I can’t apologize enough because it really did look amazing. She didn’t look remotely convinced when I tried to explain I just wasn’t hungry, so I place the Euros on the table and quietly slip away, heading back along the harbour wall to where I had arranged to meet Oliver.
“Did you find what you were looking for, signora?” Oliver offers his steady hand, and my grip makes him wince. Sorry, but I’m not falling in the lagoon.
“I did, thank you, Oliver. They are delivering it tomorrow.”
“Prego, very good.” He beams. “If there is anywhere else you would like to visit, it will have to be another day I’m afraid. Signore Wexler has tickets for the opera tonight.” He grins and I groan.
“Oh I had forgotten about that.” I purse my lips and wrack my brain for excuses that might get me out of it. I know I’m being ungrateful, it’s just I couldn’t feel less like an evening out if I was a hermit.
“So home is good?” He unhooks the rope and jumps into the boat, striding to the wheel.
“Home would be perfect.” I feel the hit in my heart like an ice blast that instantly freezes the muscle mid-beat. I close my eyes, but the tears just trickle from the corners. I’m glad Oliver is facing forward and the wind is whipping the tears from my face, so he doesn’t see my sorrow. “Only, I don’t know where home is right now,” I whisper into the sea breeze and spray sprinkling my face.
“You look…you know, Mistress, I have no words.” Gabr
iel holds his arms wide as I enter the lounge in my full-length Cavalli gown and black Loriblu jewelled heels. I shake my head at the offered champagne flutes and take a sparkling water. I failed to come up with an excuse, but then, I’m not myself, and I don’t have the energy to take on the force that is Gabriel either. So I simply decided to choose the path of least resistance for the time being. If nothing else, it’s a distraction.
“You’re very kind, Gabe, and you look very dashing. You always rock the tux.” I clink my glass to his, and his nose curls at the contents of my flute.
“It’s bad luck to toast with water,” Gabriel mutters, obvious distaste in his tone.
“I’m not drinking any more alcohol, Gabe,” I lightly admonish with a roll of my eyes.
“That must suck, being heartbroken and unable to numb the pain with drugs and alcohol.” His smile is on the tender side.
“Being heartbroken sucks, period, and I’m okay with water.” I allow him to pull me against his side as he threads his arm across my shoulder and plants a gentle kiss in my long, loosely curled hair.
“And that is why we must keep you entertained, perhaps some cordial in the water though.” He clicks his fingers and one of the waiters is almost immediately at my side offering up a choice of pink grapefruit syrup or elderflower cordial.
“I didn’t take you for the superstitious type,” I remark with a note of surprise. To appease my host, I select the elderflower.
“I’m not. Water is so bland, and I don’t do bland.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Shall we? We have a table at the Gritti Palace so we will have to shake our arses.” He downs his champagne, and I barely take a sip of my newly flavoured drink when he takes my hand and starts to lead me toward the bow of the boat. The waiter catches my glass from my hand as I’m pretty much dragged outside.
“Thank you Gabe.” I offer a very small smile with my most heartfelt sentiment. He sits beside me, takes one of my hands, and clasps it between both of his, warm and secure.
“It is my mission to make that smile of yours a little bigger, Mistress.” He squeezes my hand and raises it so the tips of my fingers touch his lips.
“Then you have your work cut out for you, Gabe,” I whisper.
“Trust me, this isn’t work. This is pure pleasure, and I will very much enjoy every second.” He waggles his thick brows playfully. He is pure charisma and utter class on the surface and the kinkiest soul alive underneath that impeccable tux.
We have the most amazing meal overlooking the Canal Grande, and Gabe is effortlessly charming. The opera isn’t the best choice and I am grateful we are in darkness and secluded in a box high above the stage. The tragedy of La Bohème and Mimi’s heartbreak is just a little raw. I can appreciate the splendour and artistry. In happier times, I’m easily swept along with the dramatic music and tragedy as it unfolds. But, right now, all my emotions are consumed with trying to salvage the wreckage of my decimated heart, and this particular spectacle hasn’t helped one bit. We leave before the final act as Gabriel lightly tries to joke that he’s out of tissues and not prepared to offer his handmade suit to mop my snotty nose.
We sit at the same cafe in Saint Mark’s Square where Gabriel found me only a few nights ago. He orders some port and a mint tea.
“Thank you for this, Gabe. I didn’t want to come out tonight. Still, it has been…” I bite my lip as I ponder an accurate adjective.
“A distraction,” he finishes with a knowing smile.
“Yes, of sorts. I guess it’s been a distraction.” I drop my head back and gaze at the clear sky and millions of stars. It’s breathtaking and rightly humbling. It has the effect of putting my insignificant existent into perspective. I place a protective hand over my tummy. Not completely insignificant.
“You really think he left you?” Gabriel’s question causes me to snort out a very unladylike laugh.
“Sorry, did you actually say that?”
“I’m serious. I can’t get my head around Jason doing such a thing.” He shrugs off his observation like it isn’t a big fat slap in the face.
“Oh well, he did. He definitely did.” I bristle with the implication, but just as quickly sag back in my seat when I recognise the expression on his face is truly earnest. I draw in a deep breath and fight the inevitable prickle of tears behind my eyes. “I would’ve liked the chance to talk it over. We always promised that’s what we’d do, but the net result would’ve obviously been the same. He doesn’t want to bring up some other man’s child…No, that’s not even true. He doesn’t want to endure the connection I would have with another man, if they were the father.” I’ve had some time to process and this is my conclusion. I don’t know why, but it helps to soften the blow of abandonment somewhat, knowing it’s not the baby that’s the issue, it’s me.
“He still might be the father.” Gabriel is pushing, and I can feel the tension building. I stretch my neck out and power through the urge to push back. I know his intentions are coming from a good place.
“Yes.” I sigh.
“And?” His intentions, however, are still irritating.
“And?” I parrott.
“And… I don’t have to spell it out, Sam. Would you take him back?”
He lays it out like a big white elephant on the tiny table before us. I take a moment before I answer. The cafe quartet is playing Vivaldi, and the night couldn’t feel more magical, with the clear skies sprinkled with too many stars and ancient buildings twinkling with lights in the windows overlooking the famous square. I absently stir my tea and manage to look into Gabriel’s concerned eyes and hold his gaze.
“When I’m not completely heartbroken, I’m extremely pissed. He was a coward to walk like he did, and I never thought him a capable of hurting me like he has.” I swallow the thick lump, but my voice waivers at the end.
“And what if you’re right?” He dips to keep my gaze when I try to look away. He’s good at this interrogation thing.
“Right? What do you mean if I’m right?” I can’t hide the incredulity in my voice but it doesn’t rattle him. If anything, his tone softens, and he reaches for my hand.
“What if he isn’t a coward, and he didn’t hurt you? What if this is just a misunderstanding?” His voice is soothing, and I’m drawing the comfort I need from his hold because his words are slicing through me. I almost choke on the words as they spill from my open mouth.
“A fucking big misunderstanding, don’t you think?”
“Enormous. Still, that doesn’t negate the fact that it might be, in fact, a huge misunderstanding.” I try to pull my hand free but he maintains the firm and steady hold.
“Why are you saying this, Gabe?” My voice catches, and I fucking hate that fat tears fall from my eyes, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop them. My jaw tightens, and I spit the next words through gritted teeth. “He left me on my wedding day. It doesn’t get any clearer than that…not to me.”
“Then why is he trying his damnedest to get a ticket for the Gathering?” Gabriel’s statement completely knocks the air from my lungs, and I fold. My hand presses against the instant unbearable ache in my chest.
“He is?” I mouth the words but Gabriel hears the faint whisper.
“Yes.” He uses his free hand to sip his port before he continues. “He called my personal assistant, and when he was told they were none available, he offered me a free lifetime membership to his club, for a single ticket.” He arches a brow high and has a knowing grin on his lips, only I’m not following what he thinks he knows exactly.
“You didn’t accept?” My eyes must widen comically because he laughs, a loud, throaty sound, and it echoes off the high walls and quiet night.
“Do I look like I need charity, darling?” He shakes his head at my silly notion.
“No, but you do like drama.” I raise my own brow in mock judgement, the edge to my voice making my comment sound more like a statement of fact.
“True.” His chuckle softens,
and his expression flits from playful to serious in a blink. “However, I wouldn’t risk you, Mistress, not at any cost. You have nothing to fear, he will not gain entry to the Gathering.” I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding and relax against the hard back of the chair. “But I wouldn’t be so sure he isn’t already in Venice and will try whatever means to see you while you’re here.” His throwaway comment undoes his previous declaration, and I’m again tense and on high alert.
“All the more reason for me to stay on the boat.” I mumble.
“Yacht,” Gabriel grits out, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smirking. “You will not hide, Mistress.”
“No, you’re right.” I straighten in my seat and pull my shoulders back. How I can switch from desolate to determined seemingly with the change of the wind, is as impressive as it is exhausting. “I just… What you just told me is a surprise, that’s all.” I worry my lip and cast a furtive glance over the now deserted square. “Why would he want to come to the Gathering?”
“Why do you think?” Gabriel swirls the remaining port slowly in his glass and tilts his head, looking directly at me through his long lashes. His knowing confidence is one more thing I could quickly find beyond irritating.
“To get his arse kicked,” I snap.
“Ha!” A short, bold laugh. “He would have to pay handsomely for the privilege, although I can promise you he will not get into my party.”
“It’s not his style, Gabe. Trust me, Jason is not the type of man to pay to be on the receiving end of my whip.” I drop any hint of humour. “You promise he won’t be there, Gabe?”
“Cross my heart and hope to draw my last breath under your boot.” He draws his finger in the pattern of the aforementioned cross on his impeccable black tux jacket.
“A little dramatic, Gabe, but thank you.” He pulls my hand up and kisses the back.
“Anything for you, Mistress.” His voice is sincere and I’m shocked how much comfort I take from the sentiment and from him.