The Artist's Love (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “You have an intoxicating scent.”

  I laugh, tickled by his nose’s probes. My new perfume is just another little thing I ordered from Amazon. “Glad you like it.”

  He runs his hands across me like a ravished dog.

  “Wait,” I say. “There’s something I want you to try.”

  “I thought that was my line?” he says.

  “Now it’s both our lines.” I slip my right wrist through the strap. “Will you use these?”

  He crawls up my body, his penis hard and resting atop my breasts, and tightens the strap. I look into his eyes. He’s watching me to see how I like it, and I’m watching him to see how he likes it. He takes my other hand and ties it before penetrating me. I let go and open vulnerably for his love. A part of me feels even freer than before. He’s in command, and he takes his role seriously. I feel him watching me while I build to be sure that we’re both okay.

  After we reach completion, he lies by my side. “Did you like it?”

  My body’s stretched, wrists yet bound. “I think we should take them with us.”

  He unties my hands. “Then let’s begin to pack.”

  20

  Luther loads the plane for Floriana, Luther, Gianfranco, Aiden, and me. We’ll be flying directly to Paris in a chartered jet.

  Gianfranco sounds excited as he tells me about where we’ll be spending some time. “I know you have already done the major attractions—the tower, the museum. Me, I will take you to where the artists live and where there are lovers galore.” His hand guides me to my seat in the plane.

  “I cannot wait.”

  Only two weeks ago, I was finishing my work at the station, thinking I’d be flying to America with Aiden, and now, we’re flying to Paris with a butler, my nanny, and Gianfranco. I feel he’s going to be my personal attaché while we travel.

  “You know I’m not used to having people show me around,” I remind him.

  “I know. Remember, this is becoming an adventure of many new things.” He kisses me as the airplane door closes.

  When we land in Paris, we waste no time going to Gianfranco’s flat. On the drive in, I see that we are near many cafes, bakeries, and shops. His building is like many of the older places I remember seeing while walking through town, at least from the outside. The building is four or five stories high, and the top level is decorated with a different color and architecture. The inside is quite nice and quite comfortable. His flat is more traditionally decorated, has four bedrooms with a bath off each one, a fireplace in the main room, and a kitchen with an astounding view. Not to mention the two balconies. But we’re all tired, and after getting settled, we go to sleep.

  The next day, Gianfranco and I roam the city while Floriana takes care of Aiden.

  “This is where many famous artists lived. Picasso, Van Gogh…” He points out their flats. “I used to come here all of the time for inspiration. It is where my ideas for Fixation came from.”

  The neighborhood is like a beatnik neighborhood in other cities, only much older than most. His knowledge is real, it doesn’t come from textbooks. He’s lived it—just how I like it.

  “Over here, there were mines for minerals”—he points—“and here too.” He tells me many stories of how long ago, the land we are standing on was used by artist outcasts who just wanted to get away from the bourgeoisie and drink tax-free wine. “Now, many of these same people who detest artist outcasts have their work hanging in their homes.” He scoffs. “However, if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be making a living as I do.”

  I kiss him. “This is true.”

  At night, Gianfranco and I dine out in one of the many fantastic restaurants, or we eat at home. Sometimes, Gianfranco takes us all out.

  “It is like we are one big traveling family,” he says. “Therefore, we must eat together and often.”

  Some days, Gianfranco takes Aiden and me to his favorite parks and gardens, always telling me of “the stories of the unwritten.” And each day, I become more and more interested in what I would say is not “mainstream” Paris.

  One day, Gianfranco surprises me and asks to take Aiden by himself. “I would just like to go and play with the little man. Little man to man.”

  I agree, and I take Floriana to some of the nice shops so we can have a ladies’ day.

  On other days, I take Aiden, and sometimes Floriana, to the touristy areas to do touristy things. We go up the Eiffel Tower, get drawings done of our faces, pay too much for crepes, and of course go to the Louvre. I love all of the adventure, the French food, culture, and wine.

  “I could stay through the summer,” I tell Gianfranco one night over dinner.

  “We’ll be here at least as long as it takes me to find a gallery. But then I would like to take you on to the summer home in Salento.”

  “Salento?”

  “Yes, it is beautiful this time of year. I have a farm there, and I need to tend to it for several days. It will be a good place to relax and unwind from the busy city we are in.”

  I think for a minute, then give him a crisp nod. “That sounds wonderful.”

  His fingers run through my hair. I allow my head to fall on his shoulder while we sit and watch the sun dip beneath the city.

  “I like you very much, Liza Patrick,” he says.

  “I like you too, Gianfranco.”

  His hand rubs my shoulder. Together, we sit until only the city’s lights illuminate the sky.

  On the final day in France, we take a trip out of town and visit Versailles.

  “What a magnificent palace,” Floriana says as we drive home from our tour.

  “It was the hunting lodge of Louis the XIII, but not in this splendor. Then Louis XIV, the Sun King, turned it into much of what we see today. It was also said to be a place where the king could stay a distance from the main capital,” Gianfranco says.

  “And why would he want such a thing?” Luther asks.

  “To keep distance between himself and his potentially very angry peasants,” I say.

  We laugh before returning to his apartment one last time.

  After everyone has gone to bed, Gianfranco takes out some rope. “Would you like to play tonight?”

  I curl my body and poke out my hip. “I would love to play.” I’m still surprised to hear those words from my mouth.

  Gianfranco undoes his shirt. The sight of his frame never fails to make me ripe. He walks closer to me, and my heart skips a beat. He slides off my camisole and tickles my nipples with the frayed end of the rope.

  “Mmm…” I bite my bottom lip. “That feels so good.”

  Suddenly the sensations stop.

  “How will you tie me?” I ask.

  Gianfranco presses a finger across his lips, telling me to stay silent.

  He begins preparing a knot. “Like this.” He takes one of my hands and ties it to one of the top posts of the bed, then does the same with the other. He binds my feet to the lower bedposts.

  I shift on the sheets, testing to see how much movement I’m allowed. “You’ve bound me well.”

  He winks. “I like when your arms are high and you struggle to push my head from you when you come.”

  “Is that so?”

  His face moves into my pussy. “It is.” He begins.

  Each time, I find myself enjoying his stimulation as much as the first. After I come for the seventh time, he frees me, and I crawl into him, my body feels more and more satisfied. My limbs hang over his frame, limp. An earthquake could rumble us and I’d still feel safe in his arms.

  21

  When we get to Salento, I feel as if we’ve stepped back in time. The village can’t house more than a few hundred people, and his villa, which is several miles from town, is like a picturesque little farmhouse. I feel as though we’re in the middle of nowhere. Gianfranco was right—this is the place to totally decompress from the big city.

  Our first day, Gianfranco takes us on a personal tour of the acreage, much of which is covered in gra
pe vines, rolling hills, and trees.

  While we walk, he leans over to me and whispers in my ear, “This is also beautiful under the starlight.”

  I look at him, and he winks.

  “Are you suggesting we take a walk at night alone?”

  Gianfranco shrugs his eyebrows. “It would be magical, no?”

  I smirk wickedly. “Very magical.”

  I love the idea of walking the countryside under the many stars which must exist here, especially since the largest town is but a village—it probably doesn’t have any streetlights. Then my mind moves to thoughts of rolling across the grassy hillside with Gianfranco. Let’s see, I count. Now I’ve been tied up in a castle, tied up in a French flat, and now, perhaps on the Italian hillside.

  We get back to his place and all take a dip in the pool. Aiden, Floriana, and I sit by the pool, where we can almost see the ocean. We’re far enough that it doesn’t feel all that close, yet we’re close enough for me to still smell the salt in the sea.

  For the first time, Floriana sees Gianfranco in his bathing suit, and I think she’s as impressed as I was the first time I saw him. He doesn’t stay for long though, citing a little painting he needs to get done before he prepares our dinner.

  He insists that we stay at the pool though, so I play in the water with Aiden before we both nap poolside. We wake to Gianfranco ringing the good ol’-fashioned dinner bell. He’s cooked spaghetti and meatballs, and he had journeyed down to the village to buy fresh bread and cheese.

  After our meal, I put Aiden to bed. Floriana and Luther retire to their rooms as well, leaving Gianfranco and me alone. So we pack a bottle of wine, glasses, bread, and cheese, and walk to the hilltop just outside our dwelling to sit on the grass and gaze at the stars.

  “Where did you get this house from?” I ask Gianfranco.

  “It was a gift to myself. After I sold my first of many paintings, I bought it.”

  “Why did you want it?”

  “All my life, I have traveled around. I like my castle; it is where I come from. When I traveled around, I found places like this. Some in the south of France, others here. It is close to my home. I can travel here by car. It has hardly a person around.” He stretches his arm, waving across the land in front of us. “And I really like the sky. Maybe one day I will live here permanently and turn my grapes into wine.”

  I moan delightfully, feeling the cool breeze against my face. “What fun it would be to drink your own wine.”

  He leans forward. “Yes, is a nice thought.”

  His posture remains taut, provoking a kiss. We stare at the stars for a while longer, and I share stories with him about my brother and Abby.

  “They sound like wonderful people. I hope to meet them someday.”

  “Me too.”

  Over the next few weeks, we spend our days walking through the quaint village at the beachfront and in the water or at the beautiful beach. Sometimes, we don’t even go back to the villa. Instead, we rent a seaside cabana and swim in the ocean all day.

  On our last day in Salento, Gianfranco takes me snorkeling. We end up on a very small charter boat with a guide who takes us to three different spots throughout the day, each having a different type of coral and ocean life. For lunch, the guide, Fernando, teaches us how to catch sea bass with our bare hands. Fernando skins our catch, cleans it, and cuts it up for lunch.

  “Here,” he says, handing us both a piece on a cracker. “If you would like some lemon, I have it here.”

  “Do you recommend it?” Gianfranco asks.

  “I do.”

  Gianfranco puts out his hand and takes a lemon wedge, squeezing it over the fish, and then takes a bite. His eyes brighten.

  “Really, is it good?” This clearly surpasses my idea of eating raw fish as sushi.

  “Is delicious.”

  The guide hands him the next cracker with fish, and Gianfranco hands it to me. “One moment,” he says before squeezing another twist of lemon on it.

  I take a bite. My back straightens. “‘Mmm, it is good.”

  Gianfranco smiles at me.

  We eat the rest of the fish and get back into the water. It’s only several feet deep, comfortably warm, and deep aqua blue in color over bleached white speckled sand. Gianfranco and I swim beside one another, and at times through schools of beautifully colored fish.

  The next day we return to Naples, where we catch a small plane back to Bari.

  After boarding our flight, I look at him. “Thank you so much for a wonderful two months. I never dreamed our trip would be so fun and fulfilling.”

  Gianfranco kisses me. “You are very welcome, my love.”

  I feel my eyes glisten with wonder. “And, truthfully, I could have stayed in Salento longer. I love your villa.”

  “Oh.” His expression widens. “I am surprised. There isn’t much in Salento.”

  “I’m surprised too, but I liked it.”

  “We could have stayed longer if I didn’t have a meeting in town tomorrow.”

  I kiss his cheek. “I know.”

  “But we will return to Salento on the weekend, no?”

  My smile widens. “That’ll be nice.”

  Gianfranco kisses me again, stretches his feet, and puts his seat back. I fall asleep next to him, and the next thing I know, we’ve landed.

  22

  Feel his forehead,” Floriana says as we prepare to disembark.

  I rest my palm on Aiden’s tiny forehead and gasp. “He’s warm.”

  Gianfranco places his hand on Aiden’s head. “You are right. We should take him to the hospital?”

  “No, I don’t think we’re there yet. I would like to take him home so he can sleep in his own bed tonight though.”

  Gianfranco ruffles his eyebrows as though he’d rather not have us away from him tonight. “But of course, I understand.”

  When we get back to my place, Gianfranco gives Aiden a hug. “Get well. We will have more time at the castle for you then. And more travels too.” He looks at me.

  I’m filled with overwhelming joy, having had the vacation of a lifetime.

  “The time I have had with you has been wonderful,” he says while wrapping his arm around the small of my back. “Just because we are done here today does not mean we are done. I was serious when I talked about going back to Paris.”

  I swallow, smiling. “I’d like that too. Very much.”

  He pulls me to him and kisses me. I’m amazed that after two months of travel, and our countless kisses, he still makes me swoon. I take a deep breath and pull away. I have to take another second to make sure I have my balance.

  “I will see you soon. Take care of him.” He points at Aiden. “He is my beach friend.”

  I get Aiden down and take his temperature. He is fast asleep, and his temperature is about one and a half degrees high.

  “Not so bad,” I say, looking at him.

  I stay with him until he’s out, then I go to my room, shower, and get to bed. I’m exhausted, but it’s sort of strange sleeping without Gianfranco. I’m so used to his body against mine. I miss laughing at a funny story he must tell before we close our eyes. Those days we spent together couldn’t get any better. When I lose consciousness, I’m pretty sure I’m still smiling.

  I wake with a start and look toward my nightstand. My phone is ringing. I pick it up and look at the time. It’s six in the morning, and Nolan’s calling.

  “Hello,” I say, sounding tired.

  “Liza. John has been convicted of first-degree murder.”

  My shoulders collapse as if the wind has been sucked from my sails. “He was?”

  I scamper around, looking for something but I have no idea what. “Okay. Then I have to come home. Now.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m leaving this morning.”

  “Liza, he’s your ex-husband.”

  “But he killed our father!” I calm myself. “Listen, don’t argue with me about this, please. I want you t
o pick me up at the airport. I’ll send you my flight information. See you soon. Okay?”

  Nolan is silent for a while before he sighs. “Okay.”

  He hangs up. I sit on the edge of the bed, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs, but I don’t want to wake Aiden. I cannot believe my ears.

  I can’t believe Nolan wants me to stay in Italy after this. No way. I must see John. I’ve been avoiding him for too long.

  I sigh, feeling as if a truckload of bricks has fallen on top of me. I activate the screen of my phone, search the contact list, and call Pete Johnson, our family lawyer. I ask him if he knows how to get me into the jail or prison to visit John.

  “It will be easy for you,” he says. “John’s been trying to get in contact with you since the arrest, but he doesn’t have your number in Italy. So his lawyer contacted me to say that you are on his visitation list. Apparently John’s been hoping you’d want to come see him. But why would you?”

  I cradle my face in my hand. “Because, Pete. I just have to.”

  Pete’s silent for a long moment. “Okay, then. When are you returning?”

  “I want to leave today.”

  “Well… it’s Monday. The prison hosts visitors on Monday through Wednesday, and then Saturday.”

  I thank him for being open with me about this, and we end the call.

  I suspect Aiden has an ear infection, so I call Dr. Russo before I pack. He’s a great pediatrician who always answers his phone no matter what time I call. I tell him Aiden’s symptoms and explain that I have to leave the country immediately. He confirms that it sounds as if Aiden has an ear infection and warns me against putting him on an airplane. We make an appointment for later today—Floriana will take him.

  So I call Elsa.

  “Floriana and Aiden have to come and stay with you,” I say.

  “Sure, that sounds fine. But what is the matter? Something sounds wrong.”