by Marlene Hill
Chuck put his untouched second beer on the table and leaned forward. “Maybe you had more self respect than you realized?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I doubt it. My studies suffered. If it hadn’t been for the old Italian Professor Emeritus, who reminded me about all the work I was throwing away, I would have dropped out.” She sat up straighter and this time managed to hold her glass steady enough to take a sip.
* * *
The wine was no longer chilled, but the dry, tart taste felt good going down. I can’t lose this man who’s good inside and out, but I must tell it all.”
“After several bad experiences, I finally understood how reckless I’d been. I wasn’t hurting Ricky or Jason. Heck, they had no idea what I was doing. And they weren’t bad, just two young guys not ready for real relationships.”
She was sure Chuck wanted as far away as possible. He leaned in to speak. She held her hand up palm out, asking for one more moment. His mouth tightened and his pale eyes radiated icy shards of silver.
This is my last chance.
“Chuck, I trust you until the sun expands. It’s me, not you. You said it. I’m the one with trust issues. For too long, I’ve expected betrayal by men, and my behavior came out in unpleasant ways. No, change that. It came out in crappy, selfish ways, and I’m sorry. So sorry.”
* * *
She looked limp and drained.
He was quiet. She’s an enigma. She responds to me like a lioness but withdraws and becomes distant. She wants a place of her own yet wants to be in my bed. She has a lot to learn about herself. But damn, she’s working on it. And… that’s enough for me.
He set his beer down, leaned forward and took both of her hands.
“Giulia, do you think you’re the only one ever betrayed by a lover?”
She snatched her hands back, sat up and stiffened her back. If she’d been a cat, he would have sworn she was arching her back, with her fur standing on end, ready to hiss and scratch. Then her body deflated. And her lips curved into a small, sheepish smile.
“How self-centered I’ve been. So afraid to be hurt. There’s no guarantee is there? It’s part of life,” she said.
He moved around the table dragging the spindly little chair with him to sit beside her and hold her. “I had to say it.”
“I had to hear it.” She put her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers in his thick hair. “Oh Karlo. I love you so much.”
“Those are the only words I’ve heard all day. Nothing else matters.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Chuck was spending longer hours at the base mostly working out at the gym. That gave Giulia time to adjust to being back in his apartment. At times, she thought he was over-protective. She struggled to get used to having him, or anyone, worry about her—except for her parents, who still fretted about her choice to live in Venice. But she was loving the quiet evenings with Chuck.
Saturday night Giulia poured them each a glass of red wine and sat at the kitchen table while he chopped garlic and tomatoes for what he called a simple pasta sauce. And for what she knew would be elegant in its simplicity.
Oliver Ogle’s trial continued to loom over their heads, but it was out of their hands. All they knew for sure was it would be held in Baltimore, maybe mid-September. Chances were that both Chuck and Colonel Ryland would need to appear—Giulia for sure—but either way, Chuck said he’d make the trip with her. And because the situation had developed on a military post, her travel costs would be taken care of. They had bothered her, but they were the least of her worries.
“Rafe Lyne told me Oliver’s out on bail,” she said to Chuck’s back.
“No doubt he’s trying to ruin as many lives as he can. What a piece of work,” Chuck said.
“Can he come back here, do you think?”
“Don’t know. That’s a good question to ask Lyne. As your attorney, he’ll know about the conditions of Ogle’s bail or can find out.”
“Yes.” She heaved a huge sigh. He turned his head to look at her. “The idea of testifying at Oliver’s trial is haunting me already. How will I ever say out loud what he said and did to me?”
“No use to start worrying now, Micina. As time draws near, Lyne will help you prepare for that. And I’ll be there with you all the way.”
“You will, won’t you. That means so much.” But she stared into the distance. “If only I hadn’t kicked him. I should have somehow twisted out of his grasp and run out the door that first time. You know he’ll make a huge to-do about that. Assault he’ll call it.”
This time Chuck turned abruptly from his chopping with the knife still in his hand. “Giulia, stop it! The operative word is ‘somehow.’ Somehow you should have been able to twist out of his grasp. Marc was right, you reacted in self-defense.”
“But only I know that.”
“Wait until the search warrant for his villa is executed. And all those women’s intimate things and all their names will be found in his dirty little file. Wonder how many of those women kicked him?”
“Did you get a warrant signed?” Giulia asked, straightening up.
“Didn’t I tell you? Jeez, I’m sorry.” Chuck lay down his knife, turned the stove off and sat at the table across from her.
“I didn’t have to do anything about the warrant. When my superior officer saw the photos of all that lingerie, he was livid that it happened on his watch. After that, strings were pulled. The Italian judge wouldn’t allow a search of Ogle’s office because, legally, his office is the same as being in the States. The U.S. judge from Padova said no because of personnel records of U.S. citizens. Hell, they could have gotten around those objections by inserting someone from the university during the search. A shame because finding a pair of panties in his office desk would be one more nail in his coffin.”
“Probably doesn’t matter.” Giulia said. “I met Susan Riggs, the interim director of Human Resources yesterday afternoon. She’d found my folder in Ogle’s top drawer just where you said it was.”
Giulia related the meeting. After Ms. Riggs had read through Giulia’s material and Ogle’s notes about her teaching Italian to cadets, Riggs asked Giulia to come in to discuss also teaching Italian to military families’ children enrolled in American-style classrooms.
“It seems the powers-that-be had been pushing toward this. Of course Ogle acted as if it was all his idea after looking at my resume.”
“Micina, you may end up spending more time on that ‘dreary post,’ as I’ve heard you call it, instead of in Venice.” He stepped back to the counter.
“You’re right, it could be a problem. The thing is, I’d like to establish myself on the post as a teacher of Italian to English speakers and English to Italian speakers. That carpenter, Enrico Zava, asked about lessons, and lots of Italian workers on the base might want to learn. Eventually I hope to set up a business here in Venice with excellent referrals from there.”
“You’re a constant surprise,” Chuck said and stopped his food prepping again to swoop her into his arms. “That goes along with my thoughts about retiring. I can rely on you to take care of me.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself big man. But wait. You haven’t heard the most interesting news about what Susan found.”
“And?”
“She said there were indications in Ogle’s office, suggesting he might have serious mental or emotional problems. When I asked her what she meant, she said she’d been warned to say nothing. But she could tell me that the top sheet of my folder which showed my personal information had the address where I lived circled in blue pencil.”
Chuck nodded. He’d seen that.
“Ms. Riggs said, ‘Mr. Ogle seemed to prefer blue pencil to emphasize something important to him.’ That could be another nail in Ogle’s coffin. And we know what she found in his bottom desk drawer.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing that pair of black underwear was still there just as your folder was where I left it,” Chuck said. “So you’re righ
t, it probably doesn’t matter that we didn’t get a warrant for his office.”
“So, when will the villa be searched?” she asked.
“Any day now. Unless Oliver carted his souvenirs away, the villa will be enough to indict him.”
“That’s such good news. What about your commander?”
“That’s what’s so incredible. I took a calculated chance showing him those pictures. I didn’t say I took them. Didn’t say I didn’t. Just that they were from Oliver’s home. He never asked me directly and didn’t want them in his possession. In fact, he hinted I keep them a secret. I’ve always had a good feeling about him. All along, he’s consistently advocated for pursuing and prosecuting sexual harassment on the post.”
“It sounds unusual for a man of his high rank to not stick strictly to the book,” Giulia said.
“Thank God a few like him are around. I hope Oliver didn’t destroy all his booty before they hauled him off to the States.”
With that reminder, Giulia crumpled in her chair and began to twist the stem of her wine glass round and round.
“Giulia?”
“I almost wish he had. I can see it now. In front of the whole courtroom, my attorney and his team will display the garments on a huge screen for all to see.” She spread her arms wide. “And then, with one of those laser pointers with a red light, he’ll identify mine.” She slashed her arm forward, narrowed her eyes to fix on the tip of her finger jabbing it at the imaginary display.
“Aw, sweetheart.” He came around the table and took her in his arms. “Maybe the pictures the search-warrant crew takes can be shown only to the judge and jury.” He waited a beat, tipped her chin up and said, “But yours were the prettiest.”
She couldn’t quite stifle a snicker. “You’re crazy. Sweet, too.”
“I know. Can’t help myself,” he said. “We’ll get through it, Giulia. When it’s over, we’ll come back and enjoy our life in Venice. Right?”
She nodded, burrowing into his chest, inhaling his warm, man smell.
He turned back to finish smashing herbs and garlic together in his mortar and pestle, and she gathered plates and cutlery for the table.
“Giulia? How would Ogle know the measurements of all those women?”
“By the label sizes, or maybe he studied size charts in a catalogue.”
“So, how’d he do on yours?”
“You’re incorrigible. Wait a minute.” She left the room, coming back in a moment to toss a pile of colorful lingerie on the table. “Here. Make your own estimates.”
He leaned back in a deep, rumbling guffaw which tickled her into laughter herself.
“Take ’em back. I’d rather handle the real thing.” He pushed her glass of wine toward her. “For now, drink up. Then, milady, if you have any strength left, I could use help with the salad.”
* * *
On Sunday, Chuck had gone to the post for a few hours. When he came in and plopped down on his recliner, he heaved a sigh and said, “I know I can’t compete with the young men under my command, but I’ve been lax on that front lately.” She laughed and punched his abs which felt as hard as ever to her small fist.
“Don’t laugh. It’s serious.”
“I won’t laugh. I’ve also been flexing muscles. Basic Italian-grammar muscles. Wednesday afternoon, I’ll start my first class of third-graders. I’ve never taught little ones and I’m nervous. Old Ollie would be upset if he knew I was getting my teaching objectives met.”
“I’m thinking of other objectives.” Chuck pulled her onto his lap.
“Mmm,” she said, and slid her hands under his shirt, scrabbling them up and down his chest. He moaned softly. She slipped her hands under his jeans waistband trying to grab his firm buttocks.
“Didn’t know you were an ass woman,” he said and grasped her rear.
“Mmm,” she answered.
“Me? I’m an all-body man.” He began untying the belt of her bathrobe while pulling her into a kiss. “You’re warm from your shower and smell delicious. Jasmine?”
He didn’t wait for an answer and pushed the robe from her shoulders to take her breasts in his large hands. He lifted one, plumping it up to meet his lips, kissed it as he ran his tongue around the nipple. She sucked in a breath.
“You like that?” he said. “How about this?” and he began suckling on one as he stood her up and walked her backwards down the hall. “Or this?” By then she was laughing as she fell onto the bed.
He crouched beside her while he undid his belt and slid his jeans down his long, muscled legs, kicking the pants free. When he pulled his briefs down, his cock jerked free and grew larger by the second. She reached for it, but he pushed her hands away.
“Later, Micina, later,” he whispered. “I want to pleasure you. It’s been too long since we’ve spent leisurely bed-time.”
“Yes,” she sighed.
God he loved her response. He wanted to taste her again—honey mixed with jasmine. His cock twitched at the thought. Could he hold off long enough to take her further than ever? He nibbled down her body, wanting to make sure she’d always wait for him. Her body trembled, then stiffened. She was coming already! When he made her come, he felt like a conquering hero. Her essence emptied into his mouth as she called out “Karlo!” He knew he’d never forget her taste. Never.
After she wound down, he began to take her slowly. But when he felt her clamping around him again, his own muscles spasmed into the deepest pleasure he’d ever known. It lasted and lasted. Before he collapsed, though, he rolled her sideways staying locked inside.
They both lay in each other’s arms panting. She whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like this. Never felt so loved before. So desirable.”
“More?” he whispered.
“Maybe when my heart stops hammering at my ribs.”
“Yeah. A minute or two might be good,” he said as he drifted off.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Monday morning, when Giulia stretched awake and lazily reached for Chuck, he was gone. Before she had a chance to look for him, she found a note on his pillow:
Giulia, wait for me.
I love you, Karlo.
What did he mean, wait for me? Like an afterthought, he’d scrawled I’ll call later.
But he didn’t call, and it wasn’t long before she felt frantic. She called his cell and his office. No answer on his cell, and no one could tell her a thing at his office number. Or wouldn’t. After classes, she caught up with Marlowe and told her, “I can only think of one reason. He’s gone on a secret mission.”
“But he doesn’t do missions anymore,” Marlowe said.
Giulia nodded, her eyes felt burnt from too many tears. “He said once that it was enough to prepare his men for their missions.”
“Come over for dinner tonight, Giulia. Let’s talk with Marc about it. Maybe he has an idea of what’s going on.”
Giulia shook her head. She wanted to be home in case Chuck called or came home. But when he didn’t show up or call by Tuesday, she called Marlowe, and almost begged to be with them.
The moment she walked into their apartment, Marc looked shocked at the changes in Giulia. Dark circles under her eyes gave her a bruised look, and she’d lost weight since they’d been together at Guggenheim’s not quite two weeks ago. He hugged her and put a glass of red wine in her hand.
“Drink up, Giulia,” he said, “you’ve been through a lot lately. Ogle’s attack, your dream apartment a nightmare and now Chuck dropping off the face of the earth.”
At that, she burst into tears. And they didn’t know about Botteri. Or the worst, her past.
“Aw Giulia, I’m sorry,” he said putting his arms around her again and led her to one of the couches facing each other in front of the fireplace. “I was trying to sympathize and only made it worse. Come. Sit and eat a few of these tasty cichetti Marlowe brought from the bar around the corner.”
She sipped the wine, but didn’t touch one tidbit lying on the platter
in front of her. Gradually, she relaxed and leaned against the couch.
“Has Chuck been doing anything different lately?” Marc asked. He picked up one of the savory morsels and touched it to Giulia’s lips. She smiled and took into her mouth a small slice of salami wrapped around an olive.
“Now she has a mouthful and can’t answer your question, you big oaf,” Marlowe said, popping a round of provolone with a piece of anchovy into her own mouth. Giulia chewed the delicious morsel and decided maybe she could eat after all, but she answered Marc before trying another cichetto.
“The only thing different was staying later and going in earlier, saying he needed more exercise. What else could it be but a mission?”
“Knowing Chuck, he may have thought he might have to go and didn’t want to worry you. You know, don’t you, he wanted to be finished with all that.”
Giulia nodded and her lip trembled as if she’d start weeping again. “He still has nightmares once in a while.”
“Maybe he knew someone over there—wherever ‘over there’ might be,” Marc said taking a healthy swallow of wine.
“Yeah. Maybe he was the only one that person would trust,” Marlowe said as she sat on the couch opposite Giulia.
“That makes sense,” Marc said. “Hell, I don’t know. I do know these ops can be tricky, and if it’s a hostage situation maybe more so. Who do you know that might tell you without breaking some fusty military rule?”
“Maybe Colonel Ryland, the one who helped with Oliver that day,” she said. “Do you know him?”
“We’ve met. Chuck and I played doubles tennis with him and another colonel or maybe a major. Why don’t you call him tomorrow and see if he can meet with you?”
“Good idea,” she said draining her glass and holding it out to Marc for more. He grinned and poured. “Drink up, girl. We’ve got a guest room.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Giulia said. “What’s going on in your lives?”
Marc had crouched down to get a small fire going but turned to look at Marlowe, tipping his head slightly and raising his eyebrows.