by Selena Kitt
It was impossible.
I heard Nico turn on the shower and I ran over and flung myself across the bed, reaching for the telephone, knowing I didn’t have long.
“Hey, there you are!” Mason’s voice was warm and my body’s temperature changed the moment I heard it. “I was starting to get worried.”
“I’m sorry, I got caught up,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“So, where do you want to go to dinner?”
“Well, the thing is…” I glanced toward the bathroom door and prayed Nico didn’t open it. What was I going to say? How was I going to get out of this? It didn’t occur to me that I should have had a plan before I picked up the phone to call.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just…”
Then my worst nightmare came true.
Nico came out of the bathroom, fully nude, heading for his bag next to the bed when he noticed I had the phone in my hand.
“Who’s that?” he inquired. “Room service?”
I could have covered the mouthpiece and lied, continued with the ruse, but I didn’t have the heart—or the stomach—to do it anymore.
“Mason, I’ll call you right back.” I hung up the phone, looked at Nico, and told him the truth. “That was my ex-husband.”
“Your…what?” He blinked at me.
“I’m sorry.” I patted the bed, urging him to come sit. “I should have told you before.”
He joined me on the bed. “But he’s your ex-husband.”
“Yes. We’ve been divorced for a year or so. But he’s here in Italy. He came last night.”
“Why?” His face said he already knew the answer, and so did I.
“He says he has business here, but I think…” I sighed. “The truth is, he wants me back.”
“Bella…” He turned me toward him, his eyes soft, a little wet. I pretended not to notice. “I want you too.”
“I know.” I looked down at the carpet. “That’s the problem.” I stood, starting to dress. “I have to go.”
“Please stay.”
I found my panties and bra in the bathroom, my jeans in a ball on the floor. “I can’t.”
“Are you going to him?” he asked, watching me pull on my t-shirt, slip on my shoes.
“No…” I hesitated at the doorway, looking back at him. “I don’t know. I just need to go somewhere to think for a while.”
“I’ll be here.” He looked so sad, so vulnerable, just sitting there on the hotel room bed, that same bed he’d hoped we’d spend the night in. I thought the guilt couldn’t get worse, and then he said, “I love you.”
“I have to go.” I pulled the door open and practically ran out.
Chapter Five
Dear Carrie and Doc,
I had to be honest with them both. You were so right. So I told Nico about Mason, and Mason about Nico, and now things are even more crazy than they were before. I guess some part of me expected one or the other of them to give me an ultimatum or just abandon me altogether once they found out I was seeing them both, but it seems as if my life just wants to be complicated.
“We’re not married anymore. I have no claim over you. Just hope, Dani. That’s all I have.” That’s what Mason said to me when I told him I’d been seeing someone else. But you’re not going to believe what else he said. “I just want to prove to you that you can trust me. I love you, and I hope that you can give our relationship another chance.”
Of course, Mason always talked a good game. But the thing is, this time… he’s actually backing his words up with reality. I know he’s here on trust fund money and all—his parents’ money—but he’s also here in direct defiance of everything they wanted for him. His father didn’t want him to come here, didn’t want to take his part of the business overseas. They, of course, had hoped he’d forgotten about me entirely. But he’s here, he says he’s still in love with me, and that he wants to work things out. And for once, I believe him.
But then there’s Nico. I can’t say if I’m in love with him or not. Things are still so new. But I think… I think I am. We had a fight the other day about—of all things—his mother. (Why do I keep picking men with mother issues? Never mind, I bet I don’t want to know…) Anyway, I felt awful afterward, and I realized, after two days of not talking to him, how much I really, really missed him in my life, how much I’d started counting on him to be there for me.
I feel so torn now. And Nico was just as accommodating as Mason, for pete’s sake, when I told him. “Whatever you want.” That’s what he said. “I’ll accept whatever makes you happy.” So for now, I’m dating them both. Which is strange and awkward—they’ve met now and seem to loathe each other, which I guess is understandable—and I know I’m going to have to make a choice at some point in the near future.
I just don’t know what I’m going to do. Maybe I should run away to Michigan and come live with you guys? Ha ha. (Only kind of kidding…)
* * * *
“How can you both live in the same place?” Bewildered, I looked between Mason and Nico, both of them standing in the kitchen of the apartment, their arms crossed, identical scowls on their faces.
“We’ve come to a truce,” Nico explained, speaking English out of courtesy to Mason. “It’s the only one left in the building, and it has two bedrooms.”
I gaped at him. “Roommates? You’re going to be roommates?”
“Why not?” Mason shrugged. “It’s cheaper. And they’re willing to sign a month to month lease, which is something I haven’t been able to find anywhere else in this city.”
“But… but…” I couldn’t even begin to tell them how much of a bad idea I thought it was. I sputtered and spat my objections, which just came out as garbled gibberish.
“It will be easier for you,” Nico remarked with a smirk. I could have smacked it off his face.
Mason snorted a laugh. “True enough.”
“This is crazy,” I muttered, storming off toward the bathroom. It was hard enough, being with both of them at once, especially since they turned everything into some sort of pissing contest. But having them live together? It was impossible. I splashed water on my face, frowning into the little mirror over the sink.
And then it occurred to me. Maybe this was part of their plan. If I couldn’t separate them, split them up, see one here and one there, I’d have to make a choice faster, wouldn’t I? But then what? What happened when I chose Mason instead of Nico? Or Nico instead of Mason? Both scenarios made me feel dizzy and I gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard.
“Dani?” It was Mason, knocking.
And then there was Nico, right behind him, echoing, “Dani? Are you all right?”
“Fine!” I called, opening the door to find them both standing in the doorway. I sighed, looking between the two of them. “So now what?”
“Now we buy furniture,” Mason replied, slapping Nico on the shoulder. “We’ve already got beds though, right?”
I blinked. “You do?”
“Mine from home,” Nico explained. “And my sister gave us another. I put it in the second bedroom.”
“My room,” Mason reminded him.
“She’s okay with this?” I scoffed.
Nico looked sheepish. “I told her it was for a friend.”
“And what does your mother say about it?” I inquired.
His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter. I’m moving out.”
“Good for you, man.” Mason slapped him on the shoulder again.
“Am I in a Twilight Zone episode?” I asked faintly, shaking my head.
Mason turned to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Can you come as my interpreter?”
Nico scowled. “We were supposed to go to the gallery tomorrow afternoon.”
“We can do the gallery after the meeting,” I said to Nico.
“I suppose.” His scowl disappeared when he said, “Oh, my sister wanted to know if you could come to dinner
at her place tonight.”
I bit my lip “Is it something special?”
“It’s Maria’s tenth birthday.” Anna’s daughter. I knew she’d be disappointed if I didn’t show up.
“We’re going to dinner tonight,” Mason reminded me.
I sighed. “I did already make plans.”
Nico relented, but tried again. “What about tomorrow night?”
“How many birthdays does your niece have?” Mason countered.
Nico rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”
“I could do dinner with you tomorrow night,” I offered, trying to make peace. This was impossible.
“We can go to Il Ridotto again.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Nico, that’s so expensive.”
“That’s where I’m taking her,” Mason interrupted. “I don’t think she’s going to want the same thing two nights in a row.”
The irony of that statement didn’t escape any of us.
“I think Il Ridotto once a year is sufficient,” I said.
Nico didn’t give up. “There’s always the Jazz Club 900. Or we could go to another club. Do you want to go dancing?”
“Dani doesn’t dance.” Mason snorted laughter.
“I dance!” I nudged him with my elbow, admitting, “I just don’t dance well.”
“I can teach you.” Nico took me in his arms and I saw Mason scowl as he led me lightly around the living room floor. “It’s easy. You just have to let yourself go.”
“Yeah, well, you can let her go right now.” Mason stepped in, separating us, and the two men faced each other, glowering.
I smirked. “This living together thing is going to work well. I can tell already.”
They both backed off a little, turning their glares toward me, saying almost simultaneously, “It will be fine.”
“Oh!” I grabbed for something, suddenly lightheaded, and Mason caught me with an arm around my waist. Not to be outdone, Nico appeared on my other side, both of them buoying me up. “Dizzy. Too much dancing I guess.”
“You should sit.” Nico said, but there was no chair or sofa. The only furniture was the mattress in the bedroom and I wasn’t even going to consider that, with both of them standing beside me.
“I have to go anyway.” I untangled myself. “I have some studying I’ve neglected.”
“I’ll take you home.” Nico offered.
“In the gondola?’ Mason snorted.
Nico swiped his hand under his chin at Mason, the Italian equivalent to giving him the middle finger. “Vaffanculo!”
Mason didn’t need an English to Italian dictionary to interpret what he meant.
“I’ll walk,” I said, heading for the door. “The fresh air will do me good.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” Mason called. “Pick you up at seven?”
I didn’t answer him. My flat was half a mile away, and it was good to be out in the fresh air. I gulped it down, trying to clear my head. Days like today, I was ready to tell both men to go jump in the Grand Canal and be done with it. Of course, when it came down to it, this thing was my own fault. If I would just make a decision, they would stop trying to compete with each other, right? So what was wrong with me?
I still couldn’t believe the two of them had decided to room together. It made me wonder what they were up to. It was the last thing I’d expected, after my confession to first Nico and then Mason, that I was seeing them both. Part of me had expected Nico to end things, and Mason to turn around and head back to the states, but neither of those things had happened.
Jezebel mewed at the door when I opened it, demanding to be fed. I filled her bowl, glancing at the books on my little kitchen table. I’d been too distracted lately, first Nico and now Mason, neglecting my studies. I should have cracked the books but instead I poured myself a glass of wine and took it to the sofa, sitting and sipping and listening to Jezebel eat.
I couldn’t get either man out of my head, and now I couldn’t separate them either. When I closed my eyes and imagined them, their hands and mouths and voices melded in my mind. The wine, of course, wasn’t helping. It made everything fuzzy around the edges. Jezebel joined me on the couch, kneading my thigh with her paws before settling next to me with a large yawn.
The knock on my door startled us both, and Jezebel followed me, just as curious as I was who might be calling. Cara Lucia stood there in the entrance, frowning, her gray hair covered, as usual, under a dark-colored scarf. She remained in mourning for her husband, who made it through WWII in one piece only to die twenty years later from delayed effects of nerve gas.
“Here.” She spoke English, handing me a sheet of paper, and my heart dropped to my toes. Had someone seen Mason here and said something? Was I being evicted? “No more visitors in the room. Capice?”
Sure enough, it was a warning about having Mason over. Someone must have seen him coming or going. I cringed, folding the paper and putting it into my back pocket, already apologizing, but she waved my excuses away.
“I can’t have different rules for different tenants.” She was back to speaking Italian again. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” Of course I did. But I also knew she must be angry with me. I hadn’t been to lunch with her since I started dating Nico. “I promise, no more.”
“So this Mason, he’s come for you?”
“I’m not sure why he’s come.” I nudged Jezebel back in. Thankfully the rules about pets were far more lax than her rules about men.
Cara Lucia smiled knowingly. “And what about this other one? The dark-haired Italian boy?”
Who did I think I was kidding? She didn’t miss anything.
“We’re...” What were we exactly? “We’re working things out.”
“Well don’t take too long.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You want a marriage. Babies. You’re not getting younger, you know.”
I jutted my chin out. “How do you know I want that?”
“You do.” She scoffed. “The way you covet your friend’s baby? Look at the pictures you have of her. You want what she has. I know you do.”
I swallowed, thinking about Carrie and Doc and their little Janie. Did I want what they had? Some part of me did. And another part of me was scared to death of it. Some echo of a memory cried out, “Not again, never again.” And then my body betrayed me, every single time I was with one man or the other.
“So consider this your first warning, yes?” Her eyes met mine. “No more visitors.”
“You don’t have to worry,” I assured her, although I didn’t explain that both Nico and Mason had found their own place—together. It was too weird, even for me.
“Good.” She nodded her head, satisfied. She turned to go and then turned back, looking like she wanted to say something. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I replied, attempting a smile, but I felt dizzy with my own realization. Did I want what she claimed I wanted? A husband? A child? A family? “I’m sorry about the…visitors. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” She hesitated again. “I think those boys are taking too much out of you. Maybe you should lie down. Get some rest. You look pale.”
“I will.” I pushed Jezebel out of the way again and shut the door, leaning against it for a moment, my head swimming. I was going to read and work on my thesis, but when I got the couch, Cara Lucia’s suggestion was too powerful and my thoughts far too overwhelming. I fell asleep with Jezebel curled on my lap.
* * * *
“This is too weird.” I glanced at the bedroom door as Mason closed it behind him. The bed was the only thing in the room, so I sat there. They still hadn’t purchased much in the way of furniture. There was a kitchen table now but no chairs, and a coffee table and a television in the living room. “Where’s Nico?”
“He had to go help a guy with a leaky pipe.” Mason grinned. “At least, that’s what he said.”
I rolled my eyes. “Was it Sal? His sister’
s husband?”
“I don’t care.” He came to sit next to me on the bed, his hand already moving up my knee, under my skirt. “I’m just glad we have the place all to ourselves.”
“Still, if he comes home…”
“I locked the door.” Mason captured my mouth with his, insistent.
Our dinner had been good—it was hard to get a bad meal in Venice—and our conversation even better. But both of us had been impatient for time alone. Every time our hands touched or our eyes met or my knee brushed his under the little café table, a spark of electricity passed between us, a surge of desire. I was already wet for him, had been for hours. And he knew it.
During dinner, he had leaned over and whispered, “Go to the bathroom and take your panties off.”
And I’d done just as he asked, passing them under the table into his hands, letting him feel how moist they were, still warm from my pussy. His eyes had darkened with lust when he took them from me and slipped them into his suit coat pocket. It hadn’t been long after that we were alone in a water-taxi heading, so eager for each other his hand had found its way under my skirt to my bare pussy, flicking my clit, teasing me as we sailed toward home.
We were just as eager now, his hands roaming over my blouse, pushing my skirt up to my hips, my aching clit finally getting his full attention. He rubbed it with his thumb as he kissed me down onto the bed, undoing the button of my blouse with his other hand.
Not to be outdone, I peeled his suit coat off, working the buttons on his shirt too. I was still getting used to Mason all dressed up in suits. The husband I’d been married to wore the typical college uniform—jeans and a t-shirt. I found this new Mason irresistibly sexy. It was the same man but different, and the change was exciting.
“God, I love your tits,” he groaned, finally reaching his destination, undoing the front hook of my bra and letting them spill out. He grabbed them in both hands, his knee going between my legs so I could rub myself against his thigh. His tongue made circles around my nipples, tracing delicious patterns over my skin from one breast to the other.
“Mason,” I whispered, arching my back, my pussy swollen against the press of his leg between mine. I could barely wait, my whole body pulsing with need. “I want your mouth. Please. Lick me.”