An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (23 page)

Closing my eyes, I focus all
the positivity inside of me on the faces of people I love. I don’t know if the
sense of freedom that starts flowing through my body has anything to do with
Simona’s words, but I completely understand what she has been trying to tell
me. I have to let go of the old me in order to finally embrace the real
Adriana.

“I think you are ready now,”
she says, and strolls over to the music box, flipping the switch. Music fills
the air. We dance inside a field surrounded by purple flowers; the color of
royalty. And even the somberness of Berlioz’s
Symphonie Fantastique
doesn’t bring me down. I mimic Simona’s moves as she has instructed; it’s easy
to do so. She’s a natural teacher, a great dancer.

We continue to laugh and
giggle, holding hands and spinning around, making jumping air pointes because
the ground is still too soft for a toe stand. I perform the combination of
pirouette and toe locks with precision and abandon, completely forgetting that
I’m inside my body. The weight of my problems lift as I feel myself become the
one thing Ines has been on me about
since I joined Aterballetto ... a girl who can be a superstar
if only she were able to quit holding back.

“Simona, we should probably be heading back now,” Marco says,
his voice thick and heavily accented. I can tell by the way Simona’s breathing
has increased and the clamminess of her skin that we’ve had enough fun and now,
it’s time to head back to reality.

Taking
my hands in hers, she locks gazes with me; a fire blazes inside her dark-eyes
that reminds me so much of Luca when he’s hard at work on a design. “Be happy,
my girl. Always dance like the world is watching you. And love my Luca as
though it will be the last breath you’ll ever take. For he cares so very much
about you. In time, you will come to feel the same way about him.” A pang of
guilt stabs me.

“So,
you, know about the … um, arrangement? Well, I’m not sure if that’s the right
word anymore.”

She
smiles without answering my question, and I don’t need a confirmation. Instead,
she says, “Ah, but how those Martuccio men do enrapture us with their noble
blood, godly bodies, and the dreams they choose to share. The Virgin chose to
grace me with three of these beguiling men. Do you agree?” she asks. Do I agree?
The third most underrated question of my life. Nodding, I blink back tears
because she’s right on point. “Promise me that you will never give up on the
person you have found inside you, Adriana. Such beauty and warmth in a time of
cruelty and despair comes along so very rarely.” Now that I understand the
finality of her words, I would agree to anything to make her happy.

“I
promise,” I whisper, meaning every word. Tears slide down my cheek and she
wipes them away, kissing the top of my forehead and smiling as she does so.
She’s the closest thing to a caring mother I’ve had in a long time. When Luca
and I leave tomorrow, I’ll not only be leaving her behind, but I’m pretty sure
I’ll lose the piece of my heart that’s breaking right now as well.

Why
does life have to be so brutal in the lessons it chooses to teach me?

Adriana

The
nightmare slams into my sleep, torturing me with vivid details of the night my
family fled Moscow.

Hagar
stalks into my bedroom, taking my hand. There’s fear in his black eyes and I
know right away that for someone as big and strong as Hagar, a former soldier
in Russia’s Special Forces unit, to show his fear means something serious is
about to go down. I always considered him a gentle giant, Mother’s right hand
man and chauffeur, and on this night he’s my deliverer, the person who’s taking
me away from a life of security and falsities based on the things my parents
have led me to believe. I’m twelve years old, but even at such a young age I
fully realize that this will be the last time I see my doll named Darya or eat
pirozhki—a pastry filled with cabbage and cheese—in the grand dining room, food
prepared with Olga’s magic, an ability to turn the ordinary into the
extraordinary. I swipe at my eyes and keep quiet as I’ve been instructed to do
by Hagar. Out back, Mother, Alek, and Nikolai wait for me within a passage cut
inside the bushes surrounding our house. We make our way through the pathway,
my knees buckling and my heart pounding. Glancing into my brother’s eyes, I
wonder if I’ll ever see my father again. Escaping the attention of the guards
Father has stationed around the house turns out to be easy.

“But
that’s the problem,” Mother says to Alek. “This was all far too convenient.”

We
make our way to the airport and get out of the car. “Where’s Olga?” I ask
through the thuds of my racing heart.

Mother
turns her cold eyes toward me and says, “We had to leave Olga behind because of
you.” Her words are sharp, but the anger brewing inside her eyes drives the
point home. Olga was our servant, a woman who adored my mother since they were
about the same age. Olga and Mother had become best of friends after she was
hired to cook and clean while Mother worked on forming her repertory company
and Father disappeared. I had cried out for father just before getting into the
car, alerting his guards stationed around the house.

“I’m
sorry, Mother,” I plead, tears rolling down my cheeks, a storm of confusion
tearing me up inside. “I didn’t want to leave Father.” Alek moves to my side
and takes my hand. Mother turns to Hagar to discuss the flight plan.

At
once, a group of six men rush into the alley where Hagar parked the car. During
the melee, I somehow get separated from my family. Someone grabs me from behind
and I scream; not the cutesy kind, like the ones the girls in those horror
movies manage to belt out, but a throat gutting wail I was certain either my
brother or Mother, or possibly even Hagar, would hear. The world goes dark at
this point in the dream. It always does.

I
bolt upright in bed. Someone’s screaming. Oh wait! It’s me.

I
grasp at the darkness, instinctively reaching out for Nikolai, craving the way
he used to hold me when I woke up screaming this way. He isn’t here, though.
Instead, I feel the arms of someone else surrounding my body, soothing me and
whispering soft phrases in Italian. His scent is different, more natural, a
musky outdoorsy smell. I know this man. Luca. Wrapping my arms around his waist,
I close my eyes and hold on with everything I have in me, visions of a smelly
man with a vicious grin as he hovers over my body in a dark alley disappearing
from inside my mind.

“Shh.
It’s all right. I’m here with you now,” Luca says, his smooth voice soothing
me. I allow myself to find comfort in his arms a moment longer. And then, I
recall the reason I’m still hurting inside. We haven’t found time to officially
talk about Simona, choosing instead to pretend the situation doesn’t exist.
Easing out of his arms, I sit up and stare at my bedspread.

“Why
didn’t you tell me about Simona’s cancer?” I ask Luca, the seeds of mistrust
opening up inside me, but halting almost at once when I look up and see the
helplessness in Luca’s face. He’s staring at me, his blue eyes jaded with pain,
his expression winding me from the intensity of the sadness inside his face.
After seeing the way he looks, I know every negative thought or thing I had
planned to toss his way is about to become a memory.

“What
was I supposed to say? You would’ve thought I was trying to get you into my
bed.”

“I’ve
always known that. You’ve made it clear that bedding me was your goal. So I’m
guessing you have a better excuse?” I ask.

“Go
ahead. Flog me for honoring my mother’s dying wish. She doesn’t want us to walk
around looking like death’s children. Mama wants us to remember her as a lively
person who is filled with laughter. It doesn’t matter that this is killing the
rest of us.” He rakes a hand through his hair.

“I
still can’t believe this is happening,” I say more to myself than him.
Uncovering my body, I stand and start pacing. The hives begin teasing my skin
for the first time in weeks. I knew there was something serious going on with
the Martuccios, but I would’ve never guessed Simona had cancer. I think of
Father, my brother, Dmitri, my nanny ... Mr. N. All of them have left me in
some way. Gone. “Everybody leaves me. No one stays. No one.”

“Little
Maia, please.” Luca attempts to put his arms around me. I won’t let him at
first; don’t want him to. Why get used to someone else who’ll just wind up
leaving me behind, too? “No one’s abandoning you. I’m certainly not going
anywhere. You intrigue me, haunt me. And I sure as hell don’t want anyone else.
I need you in my life now more than ever.”

His
words refresh me. After suffering through so many rejections by Nikolai, I find
it hard to believe I’ve finally found someone who sees the real me. “You really
mean that?”

“Every
single word.” He pulls me into his arms, his breathing heavy, the weight of
what it means to lose the one person who has believed in him finally weighing
down his shoulders.

As
he holds onto me, my heart begins to race and my mind forms the words I need to
jumpstart what I intend to do next. “I want to feel you inside me, Luca.” I
lift my head and stare into his eyes.

“What
are you saying?” he asks.

“I
want to know what it’s like to feel all of me and not just bits and pieces of a
scared little girl.” My palms are freaking sweaty, and I’m not surprised Luca
has managed to touch this side of me, this raw, untamed woman who loses more of
herself each time she spends another day with this man. He calls me a magician.
I say it takes one magical person to know another one; and he must really be a
wizard ... a hot, sexy, addictive one, too.

Inhaling
deeply, he parts his lips and gives me a side glance as he studies my face, a
war between his thoughts going on behind those deep blue eyes, I’m sure. He’s
so freaking sexy. I cannot believe I’ve been able to resist him this long. “Are
you sure this is what you want?” he asks.

“I
made a promise. You make me forget. I give you one night.” He’s done a hell of
a job making me forget my problems, too.

He
scoffs lightly, “That’s not what I meant. You’ve given me more than that
already.”

“You
are Luciano Alastair Martuccio, aka hot ass successful designer, aka sex
walking. I knew exactly what you were asking that day. Newsflash. I want the
same thing.” We both share a light laugh.

“I
suppose you’re right.” He inhales and exhales deeply, cupping my face between
his strong hands so now, I’m staring into dark, lidded eyes filled with
passion. “I don’t want to be your distraction. If we do this, and you trust me
enough to give me a gift as sweet as Heaven itself, then I will be the one who
owns you. No. One. Else. Do you understand? Tell me, Adriana. Are you ready for
this? For the real me?” I nod, even though I’m nervous as hell.

“I
want to hear you say it,” he whispers, and I can tell from the way he stares at
me, the darkness clouding his eyes, that he truly needs to hear these words.

“What
do you want me to say?”

“You own me, Luciano Martuccio.
I belong to you and no one else.”

“I
belong to you …” I decide to take my declaration a step further. “I want you to
be the one who owned me first.”

It’s
the moment. Finally. This is when everything I’ve suffered and cried over and
whined to Lis and Jojo about comes crashing down in a shower of reality. I’ve
been hiding from myself and using the crush I have on a man who doesn’t want me
to protect the sheltered girl I used to be, holding on to the old version of me
because I didn’t want to lose everything about her, to give too much power to
this woman I’m becoming.

Five
days ago, Luca asked me to trust him, to let him show me a good time, to lose
myself in the pleasures of Venice. Somehow, we’ve both successfully managed to
lose pieces of ourselves and to find the fragments lying at the base of our
feet. This man sitting here with me, the celebrity who could easily have chosen
to be out finding comfort in the arms of a much more experienced woman, is
offering to pick up those pieces and put them together again, forming a new me;
in turn, I get to do the same for him. Even though he doesn’t say that’s what
he needs, I can feel what’s in his heart, his mind, can see the longing in his
eyes, the fear of losing the one person who means more to him than anything
else in this crazy world.

“Are
you ready for me, Adriana?”

“I’m
ready. I think I’ve been waiting forever for this.” His lips brush across mine,
ever so lightly, and I feel the wetness of his tears lingering on his cheeks.
Something in this man’s eyes calls to me, filling me with a sense of being safe
in a world that has shown me nothing except how to take away the things I love
most, the people who care for me.

He’s
gentle with me, his touch whispers at a tease of what I know he could give, if
he were to fully open his heart. And I know without any doubt that Luca should
be the man I choose to be with on my first time.

Luca
watches me as though he’s completely aware of what I’m thinking, and his gaze
darkens when he sees that I’m not about to stop him. The passion inside his
eyes pins me in place, fills me with a warm feeling that helps me to understand
I might not be the most experienced woman in the world, but I am the only one
with him, the girl who matters the most.

He
eases his hand behind my back, gently laying me down on the bed, and removes my
shirt, shorts, and panties. My back arches when he slips a finger inside my
throbbing sex, massaging me, teasing me with a hint of what’s to come. I gasp
and he inhales the last traces of my breath inside a kiss, devouring me both
physically and emotionally. And this time when his tongue snakes out and
entwines with mine, I meet his eagerness with my own, pulling his head down
toward me so I can fully explore his deliciously sweet mouth. This motion
causes him to begin kissing me, ravenously, until I suspect I’ll either die or
be eaten alive by passion.

Situating
himself between my legs, he presses his hardness up against my thigh. I don’t
know how much longer I can take this. I want him, even more than I’ve ever
wanted anything. Everything I’ve experienced pales in comparison to the way
this man puts me in touch with the darker side of me. Or maybe this isn’t the
darkness I’m feeling inside. It’s quite possible that I’m basking in the light,
because that’s what it seems like, and Luca knows exactly what he’s doing by
making me go crazy with pleasure this way.

Shudders
wrack my body as he traces a path down my chin, over the delicate skin on my
neck, across my breasts, stopping to take his time to devour each nipple, a
combination of nips, kisses, and licks. Finally, he spreads my legs, exposing
me fully, his blue eyes flashing a devious gleam as he slides a finger between
my folds, teasing my clit, making me squirm just as much on the inside as I am
on the outside.

I
suddenly have the urge to do the same thing we did the night we first explored
each other’s bodies. I reach down and place my hand on top of his. In return,
he moves his finger and replaces it with mine. I’ve never done something so
wicked, so forbidden. I love the feeling of freedom. I begin massaging my clit
harder, faster.

“Wait
for me, baby,” he instructs, moving my finger away before I’m able to make
myself come. Dipping his head, he sucks my clit into his mouth, raking over it
with his tongue; and then he kisses a path back up to my lips.