An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (7 page)

Both
Joanna and Lisbeth are sitting on my bed, watching me change outfits. I’ve gone
through about thirty … no kidding. I finally settle on a pair of silky black
leggings and an oversized purple tunic that has yellow flowers etched into the
design on the short sleeves. The silky cotton shirt sits just below my
waistline in the front and drapes down to the middle of my thighs in back. I’ve
pulled my dark hair up into a loose bun, allowing several strands to flow
freely along the edges of my hairline. Staring at myself in the full-length
mirror, I’m thinking Luca’s mouth will fall open once he sees me in this hot
little number.

“For
someone who’s just using this guy to make another dude jealous, you sure are
putting a ton of effort into getting dressed. And you need to lose the
stockings,” Jojo says, moving into a sitting position. Some of her fine, blonde
hair, which she has dyed pink and secured in four knots on top of her head,
falls loose around her shoulders. By day, she’s the most passionately raw
dancer in our company. Or, at least, that’s the way Ines describes Jojo’s undisciplined
approach to dance. At night, she works in one of Milan’s wildest nightclubs,
the Alcatraz, a place where you might hear about any type of band or
controversial rock group you can imagine. Lately, she’s been missing several
practices and I’m afraid Ines’s patience with our friend’s erratic behavior is
running out.

“She
knows the deal, Jojo,” Lis begins as she moves over to the dresser and helps me
fasten the small Celtic cross necklace given to me by my father. It’s the only
reminder I have of a man whose face slips out of my memory a little more each
day I don’t see him. He used to send me letters, details about whatever country
he was hiding inside. I never showed them to Mother or Alek, only Nikolai. I
haven’t received one in almost a year and I miss getting them, in spite of
everything I know he has done. “She has to make well on what she started with
that fine specimen of a designer, Luca Martuccio. Or, it’s cleaning dirty
leotard time for the rest of her life,” Lis sings in a mocking voice, grinning.

“Ohhh,
that’s right. The cherry bomb bet. I forgot all about that,” Jojo replies,
glancing at her phone for about the hundredth time.

“I
can do this. Have some confidence in me, would you?” I say to Lis, who doesn’t
believe I can get Luca to agree to have sex with me because he’s terrified of
Nikolai and my brother, but mostly because she thinks I’m going to get scared
and back out. If they’d had a chance to see him in action then they’d see how
uncomplicated doing something like that might be. Plus, we now have this kind
of mutual agreement thing going on, the one where I play the role of his
love-stricken girlfriend. It’s the least I can do to make up for the ingenious
way he managed to make Nikolai insanely jealous a few nights ago. I don’t enjoy
feeling like I owe guys like Luca Martuccio anything, so this little fiasco
this evening will set us on even ground.

“You
look hot, babes. I’d most definitely have sex with you,” Jojo says as she
stands while texting at the same time. “Alrighty! I’m outta here, ladies. Got a
hot date of my own tonight. Barbed Wire’s playing at the Alcatraz. And guess
what?”

“Girlfriend,
don’t even try telling me you managed to get a backstage pass,” Lis mutters,
looking jealous.

“That’s
exactly what I’m going to tell you,” Jojo answers, grinning wide enough to
split her cheeks.

“Good
luck tonight, AD,” Jojo says, kissing my cheek. She takes my hand, moves back,
and makes a sizzling noise. “You’re hot, my babes. That designer dude will not
be able to resist this tonight, Lis. Get ready to lose.”

“Now
see, that’s confidence. Exactly what I need.” As I hug Jojo, a small packet
slips out of the jacket she’s wearing and falls to the floor. I bend down to
pick it up, but Jojo moves faster than I’ve ever seen her do. Grabbing the
pouch that contains what looks a lot like some kind of white substance, she
pockets it and gives me a nervous smile. Lis hasn’t noticed our exchange; she’s
too busy talking about how good Byron will look in the tuxedo he’s wearing to
the annual charity ball the ballerinas of Aterballetto attend each year. I lock
gazes with Jojo for a long moment before I finally focus my attention back on
Lis’s voice.

“Hell
yeah, we’re going to have some two finger action going on after that boring
ball is done.” Lis pauses. I can tell she’s now focused on Jojo and me. “Are
you two listening to me? Make me feel stupid, okay?”

Jojo
breaks into a beautiful smile. She has the type of personality that on a good
day will make you feel like the most important person in the world. However, if
you catch her during a bad moment, then you’ll find yourself running to the
bathroom to soothe your battered feelings when she’s done outwitting anything
you feel confident enough to challenge her on.

“I
think you and Byron deserve some quality time. Now, I gotta go. You’re messing
up my chance to get some action for the first time in what feels like years,”
Jojo says, smiling innocently.

“What
are you talking about? You and that Rufio dude just broke up a couple of weeks
ago,” Lis reminds.

“Like
I said, too long. My flexibility’s starting to flake out on me now. Ballerinas
need sex like a caterpillar needs a cocoon. Otherwise, we lose our ability to
turn into pretty things.” Turning to me, Jojo says, “Good luck, AD. I’ll fill
you both in on the goods later.”

“Jojo—”
I begin.

“I
know you’ll do the same for me. Tell me if he’s any good with that tongue and
lip ring combo he’s got going on.” And with that statement, she slips out the
door.

Adriana

The
Martuccio’s house in Tuscany must’ve been transported straight out of an
Italian living magazine. Blushed stucco, black shutters, and a garden
surrounding the outside of the house, a soothing ode to nature … Italy at its
most charming. I would never be able to get my mother or brother to live in the
countryside, but waking up to the sight of rolling hills and glorious rays of
sun filtering through the tiny windows sounds like Heaven to me. And the
scents! An intoxicating mix of roses, peonies blooming later in the season than
normal, and something else that makes me feel as though I’ve just entered a
paradise created by a goddess. The Martuccio’s style and gift of the lavish
rivals the Medicis, the royal family most famous throughout this region of Italy.
I’m not the least bit surprised to find myself walking into a farmhouse palace.
I wouldn’t have expected anything less from a designer as talented as Luca and
his mysterious brothers.

We
sit outside and eat dinner as many Italians do, especially the ones who live
here in the countryside. Mother would die sitting out here and having a meal.
You would never guess she was born in Texas by the way she goes on about how
the bugs lay eggs and crap in your food when you eat outside.

The
dinner goes well. The food, a mix of cheese and fetes, paired with a Chianti
that’s so smooth you can almost feel the berries traveling down your throat, is
fantastic. I can see why Luca’s family moved to this part of the country. I’m
always amazed each time I visit Tuscany. The people, the farmhouses, the
rolling landscape, even the way the air always smells of Arabian Jasmine, a
sweet flower with a hint of a rosy scent that envelops you, pulling you into
Tuscany’s hypnotic embrace and never letting go.

“So,
Luca. Tell us how you met Adriana,” Rafe begins, gulping his wine and catching
both me and Luca completely off guard. What an ass to put his brother on the
spot this way. With thick, dark brown hair, eyebrows and black eyes to match,
Rafe brings a banker type of sexiness to his model handsome looks, the complete
opposite of Luca’s fair-haired, blue-eyed rock star thing he has going on.

“In
the usual manner. Through Internet ads,” Luca answers, but I can tell he’s
trying to make a joke out of a seriously uncomfortable situation.

“Luciano!”
Simona exclaims, her brown eyes furiously searching his face.

“Just
kidding, Mama. We met at … we met …”

Should
I? Shouldn’t I? Do I even dare? Yes. He helped me drive Nikolai wild with
jealousy, even though he’ll probably never admit how much he enjoyed doing so.
The least I can do is play along with his little game. Besides, Simona’s a
woman with large, expressive brown eyes, which tells me she’s a genuinely
good-hearted person. Who would want to hurt someone like that?

“We
met at the ballet. Seems
Luciano
enjoys it,” I answer, making a point to
emphasize his name as I steal a quick glance at him. I think he’s still
recovering from his mother’s use of his full name, and even more so now that he
knows I’ve heard it. Is he blushing? No way. I know the great Luca slash
Casanova did not just blush because of something I said.

“How
sweet. It makes me so very happy to hear this, son,” Simona says, smiling at
both her men.

“And
which ballet was this?” Rafe asks, taking a sip of his wine and locking his
gaze on me. “I had no idea you’d developed a love for the performing arts,
Luca.” I’ve already figured out which brother is the troublemaker, anyway.

“The,
er … the um … Swan Lake!” I cry out. So maybe that sounds a bit lame and
typical, but I refuse to let Rafe get the best of this situation. Something
about him makes me want to do whatever I can to support Luca in anything he
does to rock his older brother’s ego.

“How
lovely. Did you perform in it?” Simona asks me, her eyes excited as she
continues, “Luciano tells me you’re fantastic ballerina.”

“Uh,
no, Signora Martuccio. Not in this one,” I answer.

“Talking
about music makes me remember the day. We have a tradition that every third
Saturday one of my sons gets to pick the evening’s music. You know what this
means?” Simona asks Luca.

“I
know. Say no more,” he says, waving his brother’s hand away. Standing up, he
strolls over to the music box and turns on a song called
Perdere l’amore
by a singer named Lara Fabian. The heart of all things musical in Italy fills
the area.

We
all make small talk as we sit on a patio beside the garden, basking in the
blushed colors of the evening sun and sharing stories of Luca and Rafe’s
childhood together. I feel totally guilty letting her think we’re that serious,
but then I remember Lis’s bet and my goal. Instantly, I get refocused. What
harm can come from playing along for a little while anyway?

“Come
to Venice with us next week. I would be so very happy if you did,” Simona says
suddenly, taking my hands in hers and focusing her eager-eyed gaze on me.
Okay.
Guess I know the answer to my question now.
Simona is the kind of person
who makes you feel like shit for just thinking of turning down such enthusiasm,
let alone actually doing so. Plus, I have the feeling there’s more going on
behind the scenes than the two brothers have allowed me to see. The evidence
hides in the way Luca has totally transformed before my eyes, even going so far
as kissing my hand and preparing my plate for me, things not characteristic of
the player who has, so far, regarded me with a sort of bored disdain as though
he screws women on my level every day. It’s also in the way Rafe teases me,
making a point to emphasize I’m Luca’s longtime girlfriend.

Why
would they do something so selfish and silly if there wasn’t a legitimate
reason? The curiosity stirs my gut, and we all know what happens when curiosity
enters the picture. The lure of the unknown doesn’t just kill the cat. Nope.
Figuring out the object of infatuation can sometimes rip him or her up into
little pieces, too. My eyes briefly drift toward Luca sitting beside her, his
posture stiff as he does this little head shake thing behind her back. Neither
Luca nor I have to say a word, because Rafe the party killer speaks up first.

“Why
do you hesitate, Adriana? Don’t think your future family’s good enough to
travel with?” Rafe lifts his glass of Chianti, toasting the air, just before
moving it to his lips to hide his smile, no doubt.

“Oh
my. Er, Signora Martuccio, I don’t know. I—”

“Such
a delightful young woman, you are. I would like this to happen. Please
consider,” Simona presses.
Oh crap.

“Mama,
maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Rafe says, giving me some kind of smirk
that makes me want to smack him a couple of times for switching sides in less
than thirty seconds, now that I’m seriously considering her proposal.

“I’d
love to go,” I blurt for reasons that even I can’t explain. Maybe it has
something to do with Rafe’s fading grin, or maybe it’s the crazy feeling
fluttering inside my chest—the one that tells me doing something like this will
make Nikolai insanely jealous. It also gives me the chance to make well on my
bet with Lis. However, I also suspect that Simona’s voice—the almost desperate
tone she used when she asked me—has a lot to do with my decision as well. The
mother of the Martuccio brothers is just as intriguing as her sons.

“This
makes me so happy. You get to see all the places where I used to go with my
Giuseppe,” she replies, beaming.

“Giuseppe?”
I ask, wondering how in the world I’m going to be able to escape my mother and
brother’s anger when I suddenly go missing for five days.

“My
husband,” she announces as an immediate silence falls over the area. From the
way her shoulders suddenly slump and the way the brothers go silent, the
light-heartedness that has surrounded us since I arrived evaporating as well, I
can tell we’ve touched on a subject that still haunts this gorgeous family. “He
passed away eight years ago.”

The
back door slams shut and yet another brown-eyed, raven-haired hottie bounds
through the doorway.
Is this family blessed with insanely gorgeous genes, or
what?
He’s wearing low slung jeans with a red T-shirt—a combination that
emphasizes his broad shoulders and muscular physique—that has the words “The
Cruiser” etched across the front in shiny black lettering. His dark, longish
hair on top of his head falls in his face, giving him a mischievously boyish
appeal paired with a set of gleaming, light brown eyes. He’s walking
testosterone on a stick and he knows it, just as his other two brothers must
realize how insane their presence makes the average female feel as well.

I’m
beginning to wish I would’ve brought Lis and Jojo along. They would be eating
all this eye candy up right now. Since I’m the lucky recipient of the moment, I
intend to make sure I take in as many views as possible so I can … um, report
back to my friends with all the juicy details.

The
mood among the two brothers and their mother shifts at once. I think the birds
have even stopped singing and the wind that has been pushing little fuzzy
things into my plate suddenly stops blowing. It’s kind of like a high tide of
heat just washed over the patio and wiped everybody’s smiles off their lips,
leaving behind a sea of strange expressions and deepening frowns on the faces
of Luca and Rafe.

A
gorgeous redhead steps through the doorway behind
The Cruiser
, her
shoulder-length bob flopping into her eyes. She glances across the table until
her gaze stops on Luca. A strange, but knowing look passes between the girl and
my fake boyfriend just before the Cruiser beams a smile and stretches his arms
wide. He ignores both of his brothers and steps right over to where Simona sits
at the head of the table, her face beaming. This visit from what has to be yet
another one of the Martuccio boys was unexpected. I can tell by the way her
expression changed from wide-eyed and wondrous to a beaming grin, an almost
manic one filled with love for nothing but the Cruiser as he embraced her.

“
Ho perso tu, Mama
.” I missed you.
Cruiser wraps his arms around his mother
and lifts her petite body as he tells her how much he has missed her.

“My
Giovanni. I knew you would come.” Simona gasps as she rests inside her son’s
muscular arms, but I don’t think her reaction happens from feeling any pain
because of the way he’s holding on to her, though. Her positivity is
infectious, and seeing her beaming a smile at her son makes me feel happy for
her.

“Careful,
you idiot,” Rafe barks at the Cruiser named Giovanni. Releasing his mother, he
turns around, his gaze finally landing on Rafe. He seems to be completely
ignoring Luca.

“Brother.
How nice of your charming self to invite me back to my own house,” Cruiser says
with more sarcasm than I’ve ever seen Jojo use.

“Do
not abuse Mama’s hospitality or that can quickly change,” Luca answers, even
though Giovanni continues to ignore him.

There’s
some kind of male testosterone, emotion thing or something going on here and
it’s already making me feel uncomfortable. I’m almost relieved Luca has made his
way to my side of the table and took a seat beside me. I was beginning to feel
like I should be looking for a path to the front door. And what’s the redhead
girl’s deal? She’s staring me down right now. Standing at a model’s height and
wearing four-inch stilettos, a yellow halter top, and a pair of ripped blue
jeans that I can’t help but wonder if they’ve been painted on, gives her no
reason to be insecure whatsoever.

“You
should know this wasn’t my idea, Giovanni,” Rafe says to the man I formerly
knew as the Cruiser. “If I had my way …”

“Good
thing this wasn’t your idea then, huh?” Giovanni responds. If I thought the
evening was hot before, it’s nothing compared to the way it feels out here
right now. Giovanni’s gaze slides toward Luca next, and then me. I get a
narrow-eyed glance, along with a hint of a smile, from Giovanni that makes me
want to crawl under a rock and hide.

“Moving
up in the rankings, I see, little brother,” he says to Luca as he eyes me. No,
I think the better term would be he’s undressing me with his eyes. Suddenly, he
moves over to embrace him. The movement seems forced on Giovanni’s part, and
I’m not sure if Luca is going to return his brother’s hug. Eventually, his
hands move up and encircle his brother’s well-toned body. Almost as soon as
they release each other, Giovanni’s analytical gaze returns to me.