by Marlene Hill
“Don’t forget the glut of shops full of masks and doo-dads at the cost of real shops for real people,” Marlowe added.
Giulia sighed. “Mom’s glad her parents are nearby, but no matter where I’d land, she’d worry about me still single and going on thirty-three.”
“And your Dad?”
Giulia inhaled a breath through her teeth with a little frown creasing her forehead. “Dad? Not sure. He’s always been there to listen—I think he listened—but he, too, worries his little girl has no big man to take care of her.”
“Speaking of big men,” Marlowe said. “Yesterday, I ran into Chuck. He waited outside for me while I delivered a report to Oliver the Ogre.” She laughed as she told Giulia of Oliver’s reaction when he saw Chuck standing against the wall. “He looked ready to slit Oliver’s throat. He didn’t mention your run-in with Ogle to me, by the way. Probably didn’t want to say anything without your permission. And, I didn’t know about it yet either.”
Giulia felt pleased that Chuck hadn’t mentioned her encounter with Ogle. The two women sidled forward as the vaporetto nudged against the pontile and came to a stop with engines roaring in reverse to hold it there. The gatekeeper held newcomers back while passengers disembarked, then dropped the loose rope to let them step aboard. Both women donned their sweaters for the ride, preferring to stand in the outside space between the pilothouse and the enclosed cabin that held seating.
“Chuck claims some officers want to get rid of the guy,” Marlowe said, “but it’s complicated because of layers of protocols within the University of Maryland and the Military. He also said that all males on the post have been warned about serious career damage from any form of sexual harassment. But if women don’t report it, how effective is the warning?”
“I know. Many guys don’t get it at a gut level. I’ve preached to my brothers about the horrors of harassment and the dangers of escalation. Oh, they were protective IF they happened to be around when somebody hassled me. With their wives, though, they’re more aware, but . . .” She shook her head.
The water bus stopped at the cemetery. As soon as people stepped off and others got on, it moved toward Murano. In two minutes, they arrived and got off in front of the Barovier palazzo. At a door marked number four, Marlowe said, “Here we are. We can talk more over a glass of wine. Okay?”
“Absolutely.”
* * *
Marc’s family palazzo was an enormous, grey building abutting the quay. Marlowe explained that traditionally, a glass-blowing family lived close to its ovens because they often needed to run twenty-four/seven. No automatic controls back then and family members took turns tending the fires. Marc’s family company—the oldest and most famous of those in Murano—kept their ovens at the rear of the complex. Each family member has a separate entrance. To Giulia, it looked as if most units enjoyed marvelous views of Venice.
Marlowe unlocked a door and they started up a steep stairway to the first floor where another door opened into a living/dining room area. They stepped onto golden flooring. Straight on through was the kitchen with two casement windows that looked toward the inner buildings of Murano. In the distance, a church dome reflected the setting sun. A dining table sat in the center and to the right were two large, leather couches with a smaller loveseat forming a comfortable grouping around a fireplace.
“The floor, is it bamboo?” Giulia asked impressed with the layout.
Marlowe nodded.
“It’s exquisite. That bright orange and yellow Rya rug near the fireplace is a brilliant touch. Yours?”
“Not at all. Everything here was chosen by Marc. Once I overheard his mother say ‘that woman’—me—‘would be making big changes in his beautiful design.’ But I haven’t had any desire to change a thing.”
She was obviously in his thrall, Giulia thought. “Could I use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” and Marlowe led her toward it. “When I first saw this tub, I lusted for it. As you well know, most rentals only have showers. But later, when I saw the jacuzzi in Marc’s master-bath, I set my sights higher. Truth to tell, my sights were already set on him.”
Yep. She’s smitten.
When Giulia saw the sleek, blue-grey pedestal sink with toilet and bidet to match, she longed for such elegance. Someday. The mirror over the sink gleamed and its beveled glass sparkled. “I could get used to this,” Giulia said. “Was that mirror made in Murano?”
“Don’t know. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Always something new to find out about this place and my man.”
“That would make you his woman, right?” Giulia said with a wicked grin.
“Yeah. Jeez, I sound like someone out of a Mafia novel.”
When Giulia emerged from the bathroom, Marlowe was taking lasagna out of the fridge. “Marc’s Nonna gave strict instructions to let it come to room temperature before putting it in the oven. All we need is salad and Marc will do that. His Caesar’s far superior to anything I’d put together. He’ll bring a couple baguettes from my favorite bakery on the short calle near Zanipolo. Do you know that one, just across the Rio dei Mendicanti?” she said bringing out a bottle of red holding it up. “Red good?”
“My favorite. I think I do know that bakery, their homemade bread sticks are to die for,” Giulia said.
“I know. They always sell out early. I should have called ahead.” She turned around with the bottle opener in hand holding it in front of her like a weapon and took a mock stance. “Now. Back to the Ogre. I really want to get him out of our hair,” and she twisted the corkscrew in the air with a vengeance.
“Ouch. He better stay out of your path,” Giulia said.
“Would you hand me a couple of wine glasses while I open this?” Marlowe asked.
Giulia opened cupboards until she found them.
“The trouble is,” Marlowe continued, “we’re the new kids on the block. I can not understand why the other women have put up with him this long!”
“I agree. They act like abused wives.”
“I wish I’d been a fly on the wall when you kneed the bastard.” Then she mentioned her talk with Chuck and his thoughts about setting up a system where a woman could call for backup when visiting Oliver. “Frankly, I can see a flaw in that idea because—”
“Me too. The guy who’s sent to protect could be another predator.”
“You know what Chuck said when I pointed that out?”
“What?”
“He ran his hand through that thick hair of his and said he keeps forgetting about the world we women live in. It’s clear where his heart is.”
Giulia relaxed, noticing she’d felt uneasy about his possible response.
He asked about you,” Marlowe said as they carried their wine to the fireplace corner.
“About me?”
“He wondered if I knew you. I said I thought we’d be good friends, but I know he wanted more. Listen, Marc and I often have Chuck for dinner. Would you come by sometime when Chuck’s here? I’m no great cook, but . . .”
Giulia stiffened. “I’m not in the market for a man.” You sure, girl? Your life sucks. “But it sounds nice. Particularly in your beautiful home.”
“And I’m not in the matchmaking business. But the four of us might cook up ideas on how to get rid of Oliver other than Marc’s idea of bashing his head and tossing him in a canal.”
“Put that way, why not?” Giulia said smiling. The wine was delicious and she felt herself unwinding as she sat on the couch.
Then Giulia heard a key in the lock, and Marc came in. She saw immediately why Marlowe called him her Viking. Absolutely gorgeous, he was big and blond with large, grey eyes and a smile that could light up all of the North country. A white paper bag was in one hand which he tossed to Marlowe—the bread no doubt. He turned to someone behind him and said, “Coast is clear, Chuck, come on in.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Giulia sucked in a breath and felt off kilter. Had she been tricked? The wine sloshed in her glass, but
she managed to steady it as Chuck stepped through the door.
The contrast between the two big men was amazing. Not in size, Marc was only a couple of inches taller than Chuck, but with Chuck’s dark color, they were a matched pair of opposites. His pale, ice-blue eyes struck a deep chord in her again. Then a crazy image came to mind. She was six years old standing in front of the shelves that held her mom’s dog collection; Giulia’s favorites were two magnetic Scotties. One black, one white. As soon as her mother left to check on her baby brothers, Giulia grabbed those Scotties, turned them back to back, and watched them snap around face to face.
Had Marc and Chuck sniffed each other out before deciding to be friends? She almost laughed aloud. That jerked her straight back into the room. At least a smile wiped away the frown she surely must have worn when Chuck entered.
Marc struck the side of his head. “You must be Giulia,” and he strode across the room. “I apologize for forgetting you were coming tonight. When I met Chuck over in Venice, I dragged the povero diavolo back with me. He stopped kicking and screaming when he heard Nonna’s lasagne was on the menu.” Marc stuck out his hand. Giulia set her glass of wine down and stood up to greet him.
“Ciao, Marc. Glad to meet you. I’ve heard only good things about you.”
“Whoa.” Marc beamed. “Has she been telling lies again?”
“Maybe,” Giulia said with a little grin.
Chuck hung back looking worried. And well he should if he had anything to do with this “surprise.”
“Come in, Chuck. Have you met Giulia yet? She teaches at the base, too.”
Chuck seemed to regain his composure and moved forward. “Ciao, Giulia. It’s good to see you again.” When they shook hands, she felt the same heat race through her as before.
Marlowe gave Chuck a welcome hug. “Maybe this is as good a time as any to begin plotting against Oliver,” she said. “But Marc, let’s get Chuck a glass of red first, and I’ll put the lasagna in.”
Marc brought wine to Chuck, and left to work on the salad. Giulia still felt disoriented. She looked into the kitchen and saw Marc grabbing Marlowe’s rear as she bent over the oven. He reached under her skirt and pulled her into a backward hug, but she whirled around to give him a kiss and whispered to him. Giulia looked away but heard a rumbly chuckle from Marc. That sounded like marital bliss. She had to admit, it looked appealing. Then she noticed Chuck eyeing the couple with what seemed to be a deeper longing. She turned to stare into the fire and sipped her wine. She felt side-swiped. Her emotions were all over the place. Even though she tended to believe Chuck’s unexpected arrival was accidental, she needed time to compose herself.
* * *
What a beauty she is in that girlie yellow dress showing her smooth shoulders. But damn. Does she think I’m stalking her? A couple of times I did happen to pass her building about the time I thought her class would let out. Maybe she’d seen me. And , yes, I was in the cafeteria a few times when I thought she’d be there, but only once did I stop by to say a few words. Something stupid no doubt.
He took a seat facing her from the other side of the coffee table and blurted, “Giulia, I hope you don’t think I’ve been stalking you. I admit I’ve been in the same place as you a time or two, but this was not my doing.”
“Unless Marc is a consummate liar, I’ve figured that out. But,” she allowed herself a small smile, “your spying skills could use some work.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Probably not. Maybe my anti-stalking skills are working overtime.”
“My God, has someone else been following you?”
She nodded. “Last week when I delivered a package for my grandfather, someone skulked behind me, but I lost him.”
He hadn’t missed her smug smile and wondered if she enjoyed a touch of danger, but he said, “What’d he look like? Have you seen him since?”
Before Giulia could answer, Marc and Marlowe joined them and the conversation took a different turn.
* * *
The affectionate bantering between Marc and Marlowe helped lighten Giulia’s mood, and when the lasagna’s aroma rose from her plate, she realized how little she’d eaten all day. She tucked in like an Oregon lumberjack and devoured the huge serving. When Marc brought the large baking dish to the table offering seconds, Giulia took more. She wasn’t alone in her appreciation of the savory dish, everyone around the table made satisfied humming sounds. She felt embarrassed when she couldn’t finish until she noticed Marlowe had taken too much, too. Giulia hopped up to help clear plates while Marc began working his magic with the salad.
Marlowe brought chilled salad bowls from the fridge and Marc cracked a fresh egg over greens already mixed with crushed garlic in a large bowl. A quick toss and with a squeeze of a large lemon half in his huge hand, he dribbled the juice all around. He tossed the greens again with a flourish, scooped them into the four cold bowls, and they all dived in to enjoy its tangy freshness after the rich, cheesy lasagna.
“Fantastic meal. Marc, you can twist my arm any time,” Chuck said wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Giulia watched the napkin slide across his full lips like a soft kiss and felt her insides clench. She couldn’t pull her eyes away. When he turned toward her, she grabbed her glass. After a swallow, she also thanked their hosts. “I haven’t enjoyed a meal this much since I’ve been in Italy—too much going on I guess.”
“That brings to mind that creep Oliver Ogle,” Marlowe said. “I’ve decided to take the initiative and be the bait. How shall we set him up?”
A furrow creased Marc’s forehead and his mouth flattened into a hard line. “Is that the only way to get the cowardly wimp to leave?”
“Wimps can be dangerous,” Chuck said. “Marlowe, I don’t like the idea of using you—or any other woman—as bait. We don’t know what he’s capable of.” He took a sip of wine and looked at Giulia, silently willing her to tell her story.
“Marc, you may not know yet what happened in Oliver’s office,” Giulia said and related the story with Chuck nodding his head. “I should have restrained myself.”
“Whoa,” Marc said. “Sounds to me like self defense. If more women would react that way, he might slink off into the sunset.”
“How did he ever wangle his status as Director of Personnel?” Marlowe said. “He’s such a faker. When I first visited him and complained that he had closed the door, he said, ‘My dear, your personnel records are like Arcana Imperii,’ then translated the legal-latin term for me as ‘state secrets’ making sure I knew he knew what it meant.” Marlowe sighed, “It would be lovely if he’d drop off the face of the earth.”
“No such luck,” Giulia said. “Whoever is the ‘bait’ needs to be very sure of good backup.”
They all agreed.
“In spite of your valid objection to an escort system,” Chuck said turning to Marlowe. “I still believe a constant intimidation might work with him. We could handpick a few good men to take this on, and I think—”
“And just how would you vet this ‘elite’ corps of men?” Giulia interrupted. Her eyes hardened, and Chuck felt his cock react. Unrelenting, she continued, “Do you have access to their background information?”
There’s fire in that curvy body, he thought, but calmly replied, “Info from their military records, of course, but my unit isn’t the FBI. We aren’t trained to do profiling. Yet, when men and women work together in combat, they learn fast who can be trusted. I don’t doubt we could form a dependable group.”
“How about we move to the living room for coffee,” Marlowe suggested.
They all carried their remaining dishes to the kitchen counter and settled around the fireplace where Marc was already coaxing the fire back into flames.
“As an outsider,” he said over his shoulder, “the only way I see a group of protectors could work is if all the women buy in.”
They batted that idea back and forth while sipping coffee. No one accepted offers of sweets. Giulia
noticed it was eight forty-five already.
“Sorry, but I should go. After the 10.05 train, I don’t think there’s another to Vicenza until midnight.”
“That’s right,” Chuck said. “I’ll walk with you. But while I’ve got all of you together, I want to invite you to dinner at Corte Sconta. We can finalize our plans there. Next Friday evening, everyone?”
Marc and Marlowe looked at each other, nodded and she said, “My mouth’s already watering for their zabaglione.”
Chuck turned to Giulia, “Can you join us? Have you eaten at Sconta?”
“I know of it but haven’t been there. Zabaglione? Maybe I’ll try it too.”
“It’s heavenly, and they’re not stingy with the Marsala,” Marlowe said.
“We might have to order ahead to make sure they have enough for this little glutton.” And Marc picked up Marlowe’s hand and kissed her palm.
“Good, it’s a date. I’ll make reservations. By then, I hope to get recommendations for an ‘elite’ group, as you called it, Giulia.” Still looking at her, he added, “Maybe you two could poll the other women on the idea.”
“Yeah. That gives us almost a week to check them out,” Marlowe said.
“Good. With more facts,” Chuck said, “we can put a plan into action.”
* * *
At the station, Chuck walked with Giulia to the designated track for the train to Vicenza. The Venice station wasn’t large, considering the city’s popularity, and the dull 1950s-style architecture offered none of the elegance of other stazioni in Italy. To Giulia, the lobby always seemed cluttered with large glass cases stuffed with glittery doo-dads for last minute buys. But why not? Venetians had been merchants for more than a thousand years. The bar, however—separated from the lobby by glass doors—was well appointed and efficient. When traveling alone, Giulia had often been able to buy a delicious coffee or sandwich at the last minute and still make her train.
This morning she’d bought a train pass because she expected to be coming back and forth a lot—her classes were only three days a week. It would save money and time. Chuck already had his because he commuted daily. Giulia pulled her sweater closer on the way to the proper track. When the train pulled in, he boarded with her.