Venice Nights (11 page)

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just a guest that’ll be out of your hair before you know it.” I shrugged my shoulders, approaching numb and too weak to fight it. But the look on her face wasn’t one of victory. Even with her face half-covered in shade, I saw the pain whipping across her features. Her chin trembled as her lips shuddered, nostrils flaring wildly as she fought to hold back tears.

“Don’t be stupid, girl,” she said hoarsely, sweeping her hand over her cheek.

Was she...crying?

“You know what the two of you have is real.
I
know it’s real. I’ve seen the way he looks at you before.” She looked down at a lock of hair she was nervously twirling. “Jacob looks at you like Carlton looked at
her
.” She dropped her hands to her lap, clenching her trembling fingers into fists. “Allegra.”

I bit my lip, but I could not dull the complete shock that took over my face. She was apologizing to me? Admitting that I was not just the latest in a string of flings?
And
she was talking about Allegra?

She rolled her dark eyes at me over the edge of her shades, tearing them from her face. “I know you know about me and Carlton and Allegra. Jacob told me.”

I pulled my cardigan tighter, a gust of wind making goosebumps pop all over me. I looked down at her. “I know about you and Carlton and your baby.” I paused, a real flash of emotion cutting through me. “I’m so sorry.” Her stony expression didn’t say whether she believed or cared about my condolences, so I continued. “But Jacob doesn’t really know what went on between you and Al, besides the fact that you both...knew Carlton.”

She let out a bitter chuckle. “There are no virgins here. You can say it. We fucked him.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to stop the heat from rushing my cheeks, but I knew they were as red as her bathing suit.

She nodded at the seat beside her. “Have a seat—this is going to take awhile.”

I glided over the wet stone, lowering myself into the seat beside hers. She picked up a package of cigarettes, pulling out one and offering me one of my own. I made a face, shaking my head. She ignored my clear aversion to cigarettes and lit up, blowing smoke from her mouth like a chimney.

“I was the one that introduced them,” Isabella said, tracing her lips with her finger. “Carlton Whitmore was a man who could walk in a room and turn it into a party. He met no strangers. And even though every girl knew that she was one of many, he had a way of making you feel like you were the moon, sun, and stars all wrapped in one.

I think I waited until the 3rd time he called me up when he was in town before I let myself believe that maybe he really liked me. And I introduced him to my best friend.” Her eyes darkened. “Allegra.”

I sat back. “Allegra was your best friend?”

Isabella took a long drag and held out her arm. Her hand hovered a few feet from the ground. “Ever since we were this high. Allegra was always more concerned with books than boys. For awhile, I thought maybe she didn’t like boys at all—especially when she didn’t bat an eye when she met Carlton.” Isabella flexed her fingers. “They only spoke for a moment. I remember Allegra hadn’t even bothered to change out of her work clothes. She worked in her father’s auto shop and she wore these horrible overalls. Her hair hung in a greasy locks down her back and she didn’t even shake Carlton’s hand.” Isabella chuckled. “I was mortified that she was so rude, thinking she was sticking up for me somehow, but Carlton was amused.

Later that night, when I was ready to go, I saw him watching her. The way he looked at her...it put the moon and sun and stars to shame. He looked at her like she was the universe. Everything he ever wanted.” She crossed her ankles uncomfortably. “I thought sex would make him forget about her, but he started asking about her constantly. He wanted to know everything. And once she started seeing him, that was the end of us.”

Isabella stomped out her cigarette in vicious, shallow jabs. “Not even a baby could pry him away from his precious Allegra. Allegra and I didn’t talk again until I broke down and asked her to speak to him for my little girl. My Lucia.”

“Lucia,” I murmured sadly. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She flickered a look in my direction and nodded. “She was a beautiful child. Born too soon.” She swiped at her cheeks again. “Taken too soon.”

I could not even begin to fathom her loss. “Did you love Carlton?”

Isabella pulled down the brim of her hat. “Does it matter? He made his choice—and it was Allegra.”

I guess in the grand scheme of things, it did not matter.

“And you and Allegra?”

“What about us?” she said with a snort. “How could a friendship survive that? There was nothing left to salvage.”

She talked tough, like she could care less, but the truth was in her voice. She lost three things: her daughter, her heart, and her best friend.

She brought her eyes to mine, her lips curling into a snarl. “Don’t pity me. I don’t need your pity.”

I saw right through the facade. Saw the broken, lonely women underneath. She stormed inside without another word and I leaned back, replaying everything she told me. Would things have been different if she never introduced Carlton to Allegra? Would he have learned to love her?

I guess we would never know. One chance meeting, one look...and everything changed.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly understanding why she hated me so much.

Out of a string of guests, women that came and went out of Jacob’s life, I was the exception.

I was Allegra.

Chapter Thirteen

Blanka looked down at the envelope I held out, her eyes bulging from her skull.

A flash of guilt rippled over me.
Poor girl—she’s probably thinking I am about to get her in trouble. Again.

“All you have to do is hand this to Jacob,” I assured her. “That’s it.”

She peered up at me skeptically. “Why can’t you give it to him?”

It was a good question. Honestly, I doubted he would accept it from me. Every time I tried to have a conversation involving more than a few words strung together, he bolted from the room.

That morning he uttered a few clipped sentences, telling me had a meeting in Venice all day, but would be home around eight. The first step had been taken, and we were talking again, but my smile was met with him leaving the room without another word.

I had slumped in my chair, pushing eggs around my plate, trying to figure out a way to bridge the distance between us when it hit me. I would get the muddled mess in my head down on paper, and wait for him downstairs. He would read my words and know that I was trying, as hard as that was.

Ready to submit to the difficult feelings that I had been avoiding.

But Blanka had an important role to play. He could give me the brush off, but a letter coming from her would be harder to push away without being rude. I knew it was putting her in an awkward position, but it was the best chance I had.

And she looked like she was seconds from bolting herself.

She gulped, a nervous knot rising and falling in her neck. The nerve beneath her eye ticked wildly as she gingerly accepted the envelope. She shifted it from hand to hand like the weight of it was too heavy to bear. “Just give him this...that’s it?”

“That’s it,” I said simply, flashing her a shaky grin. Her nervousness was starting to rub off on me. I had hatched a plan to fix things with Jacob, and had been running on adrenaline ever since. Her hesitation was making me question myself; face to face with the fear that it would blow up in my face.

Lights glittered across the window pane.

Jacob’s car...which meant there was no time to cajole her.

“You know the turning point in chick flicks when one of the lovers does something drastic to fix something that’s broken?” I gestured at the letter she held. “That’s what’s in your hand. I’m trying to make things right with the man I love.”

I was taking a risk, betting that someone who was a fan of Taylor Swift was a hopeless romantic. Hopeless enough that she would help me, in the name of love.

I crossed my fingers.

“All you have to do is hand him that letter and I’ll take care of the rest.”

The sound of car doors opening and closing were magnified by the silence following my last ditch effort.

Blanka took a step backward. My heart sank—then shot back to its rightful place when I saw the conspiratorial gleam in her eye.

“I’ll give him the letter.”

“Thank you so much!” I spun toward the stairs. “Stall him until I get to his office!”

Blood roared in my ears as my feet slapped against the hardwood floor. I threw open the door, rushing to his desk. I bent down behind it, clueless as to what I was looking for. If I expected some button marked ‘Jacob’s Secret Lair’, I was disappointed. There was no button, no lever that would make the bookcase morph into a door that lead down to his playroom. My ears perked as muffled speech flowed through the open door downstairs. He was inside—and I was supposed to be in the room, waiting.

Frantic, I ran my hand along the desk, stopping when I hit a notch in the wood beneath the drawer.

There was a latch.

I pulled it, grinning when the bookcase shuddered, sliding outward. I slid into the darkened stairwell, flying down the stairs.

The playroom was colder than I expected, even from the amber glow of the lights above. The chilly air tickled my skin, and when I took in the items that surrounded me, a shiver of delight rushed through me.

The impressive mantle was lined with candles. The Saint Andrews cross was perched against the wall. The black chest in front of it was unlatched, filled with things that could make me scream out in pleasure and pain. My eyes rested on the bed, the four mahogany colored posts stretching to the ceiling. The iron chains attached to each of the limbs called to me; the swing draping to the pillow top mattress. Waiting.

I moved to the bed with slow, methodical strides, taking off the hoodie and pants that covered my slinky chemise. I gripped a post, leaning mg head against the cool steel as I remembered the words I wrote in the letter. Words Jacob was probably reading at that very moment.

Jacob,

You’d think that someone who carried a 4.0 GPA in every public relations course would know the right things to say. That’s our business, isn’t it? Always saying the right thing. Avoiding scandal..or if we’re dealing with the fallout, using words and actions to dig ourselves out of the hole.

But when I’m around you, words come out wrong. I forget how to speak, how to string sounds together to make any real sense because I’m so in awe of you. So amazed that I’m yours, and you’re mine. So terrified that I’ll do or say the wrong thing and screw everything up.

You asked me if I knew what I signed up for when I said I loved you. I said yes, but that wasn’t true. I had no idea that my whole life would become a headline. That privacy was no longer an option. I know that’s ridiculous. You’re Jacob Whitmore. I’ve seen proof with my own eyes that anyone linked with you has their faces plastered all over blogs and magazines. Hunted and hounded.

But the fact that this could be my life, photographers following me around, asking me questions about you are in bed—I don’t think there is a way to prepare for that.

But I do know that I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. I know that I’ve never felt so challenged, so much like my true self, as when I’m in your arms.

As scary as the press and a life lived in the spotlight is to me, it doesn’t compare to how scary I
know
life without you would be. I don’t think saying yes to you was a mistake. I was made to love you, Jacob.

I’m sure I’ll do and say things I don’t mean, but never doubt my love.

Be patient.

The door beside me creaked open.

I stepped back. My heart lurched to my throat as I came face to face with the man I loved.

Would he be patient? Was I worth the headache?

His hair was windswept; the dark locks were tousled and shimmered against his golden skin. His eyes were the color of the brightest sky and when he opened his mouth and closed it, so moved with emotion that he was speechless, I saw the words of the letter swirling across his face.

His face was unreadable as he folded the letter and strode to the bed, placing it on the nightstand. He did not look at me as he loosened his tie.

"Be patient?" he said softly, pulling the silk from his neck and dropping it onto the bed.

I swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward him. "Someone asked that of me once."

He turned his head to the right, blue eyes soft as they landed on me. "Sounds like a smart guy."

I grinned, reaching toward him and taking his hand. He did not pull away.

"He has his moments," I wisecracked.

"Funny thing, moments.” He brought a hand to my cheek, his fingertips stroking the line of my jaw. "I knew you were special the moment I saw you."

I closed my eyes, relishing his touch.

"And what about this moment?" I whispered, the gravity between us electric.

"This moment is different," he answered, stepping closer. The heat in his body fanned the desire in mine. "Now, I know that special wasn't even close. You're
everything
to me, Leila."

His fingers tangled in my hair; drawing me to my toes, bringing my lips to his. But he did not kiss me. His lips hovered mere inches from mine, achingly close, and painfully far away. His grip on my hair tightened, sending an echo of sensation along my scalp.

“Say it again.”

“S-Say what?” I was breathless, my eyes on the contours of his lips, needing to kiss him. Starving for his taste.

“That you were made to love me.”

His cock stirred against me, adding an erotic edge to the word. Love and lust collided, crashed into me in a beautiful crescendo.

“I was made to love you.” Saying the words aloud turned my skin into gooseflesh. “I love you, Jacob.”

He claimed my mouth. His lips, his hands, breathed into me, clutching my body to his. I tasted his need, his love, as his tongue thrust into my mouth. I moaned, the sound radiating through me as I locked my hands around his neck, arching my back. This kiss was the culmination of every word I wrote. A promise that I swore to keep. His hands cupped the sides of my face as his tongue slowed the rhythm of our mouths. It flicked over my bottom lip playfully and he slowly pulled back.