Champagne Deception (20 page)

“Lorenzo!” She called, padding down the steps of the restaurant.

He looked up but didn’t answer her.  Hurriedly, she clamored into the parking lot and put a hand on his shoulder, which he rejected.  He continued pacing as she followed him with sorrowful eyes.

“I know I should have told you that I had just broken up with Jonathan when I came here.  But the time was never right.  And you never asked.” As she spoke, her reasoning sounded weak even to her own ears.  No, he hadn’t asked directly.  But failing to reveal such an important personal detail was lying by omission, and she knew it.

And he knew it.  “That’s not the point!  You should have told me you were on the rebound!  I wouldn’t have gotten so close to you.”

“But see that’s the beautiful part of all this ugliness.  How we fell in love.  Lorenzo, I really love you.  Please believe I never meant to hurt or deceive you.” The tears of joy from minutes earlier morphed into tears of regret.

“I feel like you’ve been using me.  For money.  For a place to stay.  For a launchpad for your art career.
Isn’t that why you came to Italy? To get away from it all?  To start fresh and forget your broken heart?” He pressed as she shook her head wildly.

“No! I haven’t used you.  And I didn’t have a broken heart.  I was in a relationship that had been dead for years.  It would be like keeping a withered plant in your house for two years and still watering it.  The plant would still be dead no matter how long you keep it in the house and---“

“And I don’t need a metaphor right now!  I need the truth!  Why did you come to Milan?  Why did you even bother to look me up?” He would not relent until she was completely honest.

Inhaling a trembling breath, she admitted, “The night I emailed you, I was angry with Jonathan.  It’s true.  And then the next morning we broke up.  Right after we broke up, I booked my trip to Milan.”

Lorenzo was livid.  “So I was your back-up plan?  Your old college buddy who you would look up just for the hell of it?”

“No, it’s not like that at all!  You’re really misunderstanding me!  It wasn’t just on a whim that I got in touch with you.  I thought about you many times over the years. 
Many
times.  I always wondered how you were.  It was a stupid decision for me to contact you in the midst of my breakup.  And it was weak too.  Maybe I did need to escape, yes.  But I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you.  I didn’t even know if you were single!  I honestly came to Italy to talk about the gallery partnership and see where our professional relationship could lead.”

Lorenzo looked away, but some of the anger was already fading from his demeanor.  He nodded his head as though mulling over what she had just said to him.  Her sincerity was not in question.  She clearly was remorseful for not telling him about the break-up.  Besides, he couldn’t expect to learn everything about the past decade of her life in just one month.  She
had
initially come to Milan for professional reasons.  But somehow the colors had bled on the canvas and friendship had flourished into love.

When he dared to look into her eyes, he was instantly lost.  She was so beautiful, and he loved her so much.  The trauma they had endured should be stitching them together
, not ripping them apart.  She sighed shakily waiting for him to say something.

“You don’t have to say anything else.  I believe you,” he said quietly.

“Then you don’t think I’m a liar?”

“No, and I’m sorry if I insinuated that.  You don’t owe me any explanation about why you wanted to come to Italy.  I do wish you had told me about the break-up once we got involved, though.”

“So do I!  And I know I should have.  But how would you have reacted to know that I just ended such a long-term relationship?” She posed the question even though she was afraid of the answer.

“Honestly, I would have hesitated about becoming involved with you.  I would have wanted to be with you, believe me, but I would have worried that I’m the rebound guy who will tide you over until real love comes along.” Gr
imness reclaimed his features as he spoke.

“You could never be a ‘rebound guy!’ You are my real love, Lorenzo.  And I could turn it around on you and ask when your last relationship was.  You haven’t discussed your ex-girlfriends other than for Barbara,” she pointed out.

“Fair enough.  But that’s because there haven’t been any relationships since Barbara.  Nothing long-term anyway.”

“Exactly.  That’s the feeling I got from you.  So I could be worried about if you really want a relationship based on your histo
ry!  I think it’s not always accurate to judge someone based on their past.  The past can be an indicator for the future, but it doesn’t carve someone’s future in stone.  So can we please just stop talking about the past and live in this moment?” She pleaded breathlessly as they closed the gap in unison and flew into each other’s arms.

“I’ve never been a gambling man, but I’m going to take a risk on you, Coretta.  If you’ll take a risk on me,” he whispered against her lips.

“That’s the only way in love.  Risk.  All other roads lead to nowhere,” she replied as their lips fused and they sealed the gamble with a reckless kiss.

Chapter
Eighteen

The click of the magnetic key card inside the hotel room door sounded magical to Coretta.  Feeling like a zombie, she glided into the room and belly flopped onto the bed, hiding her face in a patchwork quilt that smelled of fresh fabric softener.  After the investigation had finally disbanded for the night, Lorenzo decided to check them into a hotel room.  The villa was not a place either one wanted to be right now as Jonathan was still at large. Lorenzo triple locked the door and joined her on the bed.  As she lay self-protectively on her abdomen, he stroked her tangled hair.

“Are you sure you’ve forgiven me for not being completely honest with you?” She asked worriedly, flipping over onto her back to look him in the eyes.

“Completely sure.  Let’s not even talk right now.  I just want to take care of you.”

Like he was undressing a child, he unzipped her tattered cocktail dress and slid the stockings off her legs.  Without a flicker of desire, he removed her bra and panties. 
He wrapped her in the quilt before heading for the bathroom for some cleansing items.

He massaged fragrant lotion into the rope burns on her wrists and ankles.  Then, he dabbed alcohol onto any part of her body that bore a defensive wound.  She winced as the alcohol stung the bloody gashes.  More tenderly, he kissed each of her wounds and bruises.

“Come, let’s get you into the bath.”

The bathroom was equipped with a large soaking tub which Lorenzo filled to the top with warm water.  He poured in a bit of bubble bath into the tub as the water quickly turned soft and foamy.  Coretta stepped in and reclined against the back of the tub.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.  A moment later, he returned with a pillow that he placed behind her neck.  “That porcelain is too harsh for your delicate flesh,” he explained, bowing to plant a kiss on her throbbing shoulder.

She sighed and closed her eyes, drifting away to a blissful place as he washed her from head to toe.  “Join me in the bath,” she murmured.

When he was satisfied that she was completely relaxed and physically wiped clean of the abuse, he undressed and slid into the tub behind her.  Coretta sighed again and leaned back against his muscular torso.  Attentively, he kneaded her neck and upper back as her stress melted into a puddle.

“Make love to me, Lorenzo,” she urged.

“What? No, shhh, just rest.  You’ve been through so much.”

“I know.  That’s why I need you to make love to me.  I thought I might never see you again,” she confessed on a sob.

“I thought that too,” he croaked as tears flowed down his face.

“But we’re here together.  And I want to be clos
e to you.  Closer than this.” She turned around and grabbed his face in her hands.

Assertively, she kissed him, crushing her lips against his and urging him to yield to her irrepressible passion.  He quickly surrendered, reciprocating the kiss with
pillaging force, kissing her as though for the first time and the last time all at once.  They sought and found solace in the turbulent kiss that rocked them into a frenzy.

Splashing water around them, he broke off the kiss, standing up and guiding her to her feet.  He took her no more than a few steps across the room to a full length v
anity mirror.  There he stopped, standing behind her and tilting her chin up so she would look at herself in the mirror.

“I want you to see what I see when I make love to you.  How beautiful you are,” he
said, reaching around to hold her breasts.

She dared to look at herself fully nude in the uncompromising mirror.  Her skin was pink and purple in areas where the ropes had been.  The right side of her plush hips was slightly abraded from when she slammed into the passenger side of the car.  She wiggled her toes, feeling blisters burning the bottoms of her feet.  Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was a wet and wild mess.  She looked up and made eye contact with Lorenzo in the mirror.  His expression blended unyielding love and mounting desire.  The glimmer in his eyes made her feel beautiful.  Slowly, a rosiness crept into her cheeks as she assertively grabbed his hands and moved them lower.

He stood there stroking her for long, patient minutes until he was certain she had experienced release.  Then, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.  Still wet from the bubble bath, they joined together as the black of night gave way to vibrant morning light.

*****

They slept past noon and awoke in unison.  “Good morning, my love,” Coretta greeted brightly. 
Reuniting with Lorenzo last night had erased some of the trauma, and she felt revived.  “All I can think about is food right now.”

“I’m starving too,” he admitted, reaching onto the nightstand for a room service menu.

They ordered a full American breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, and juice.  Sharing the meal in the suite’s dining nook, they ignored the proverbial elephant in the room, both too drained to talk about what had happened last night.  Munching on a slice of toast, Lorenzo checked his phone for messages.

“I can’t believe how many missed calls I have!  My family was trying to reach me all night.  I could have sworn I left a voicemail for Antonella, but I must have forgotten in all the madness.  Check your phone, Coretta.”

Predictably, her phone did not have any missed calls except for the ones Lorenzo had placed during the kidnapping.  “Nope.  I’m anonymous here, Lorenzo.  You better call your family before they get even more panicked.”

Lorenzo stepped into the hallway to engage in a lively Italian conversation with Antonella.  Coretta slid back into bed
, taking her cup of coffee with her and sipping it leisurely.  Just this small act of normalcy was cathartic.  And short-lived.  She blinked as her cell phone flashed and announced an incoming message.  With a foreboding feeling in her gut, she grabbed the phone and found a text message from an anonymous caller.

You escaped once.  You will not escape twice.

“Lorenzo!  Lorenzo!” She cried, running into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” He asked reflexively, placing a hand over the receiver so Antonella would not be privy to any mayhem.

“Look at my phone!  Look!  This message just came in.  You know it’s from Jonathan!” She shoved the phone at him as his eyes became bloodshot with rage.

“We’re taking this straight to the police!  Come on, let’s get dressed and go right now!”

*****

An hour later they sat in the police station that had become all too familiar to Lorenzo in the past 24 hours.  Officer Menini was off-duty, but the entire police force knew about the investigation.  Lorenzo handed over the cell phone to the newly assigned lead investigator, Detective Tucci.

“I’m afraid we’ve reached a dead end with the phone investigation.” Tucci shook his head in dismay.

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo demanded curtly.

“The device that the accused was using last night was a disposable cell phone, most likely purchased in cash.  These types of phones are very difficult to trace, for obvious reasons.”

“You can’t trace calls from a disposable cell phone?  That’s ridiculous!  With all the technology these days, tell me you can do that!” Lorenzo stood up and slammed his hand on the desk.

“Have a seat, Signor Fiatti.  This is not the time for a temper tantrum.  But I do understand your frustration and concern.  We
are
able to trace disposable cell phones based on what towers are picking up their signals.  But we cannot easily trace the
purchaser
of the cell phone. That’s our main problem.”

“With all due respect, Detective, how is that a problem if we’re telling you exactly who made the phone calls and sent the text?” Coretta inquired politely.

The detective ran a hand through thinning gray hair and explained, “It’s a problem because we have not positively identified a suspect in this case.  You were unable to provide us with the license plate number last night.  We need more solid proof.”