An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel (32 page)

“Leave
her out of this, Jeremy,” Jojo says, her voice shaking.

“Shut
the fuck up, bitch! I’ll handle your ass later,” he shouts, shoving a finger in
Jojo’s face. “Time to go play, sexy girl,” he says to me.

“Touch
me and I swear to God I’ll bite it off,” I say through gritted teeth. This
statement excites the idiot; I can tell by the way his face lights up.

“Hot
damn! I love a woman with spunk between her legs.” He starts toward us, but
doesn’t reach his goal ... me.

He
appears like a golden haired wraith in the night, snatching Jeremy’s arm up and
wrenching it around behind his back, a sickening crack echoing through the
alley around us. It’s Nikolai.

“Ahh!
You crazy fuck! You broke my fucking arm!” Jeremy cries out.

“Not
yet. A small way to remember what happens when you touch something that does
not belong to you,” Nikolai growls. The two men hanging out in the doorway take
a few steps toward us, but Nikolai slams his index finger and thumb up against
Jeremy’s Adam’s apple, pushing into the skin and ultimately squeezing the
windpipe. Jeremy starts gasping for breath. I’ve seen him use this move only
one other time before, and I know how deadly it can be. “Stay the hell back,”
Nikolai warns in measured words. “Unless you want to be picking up the pieces
of your boss’s throat.”

“Do
what he says,” Jeremy manages to wheeze out. The two men begin to back up.

“Now
take your asses back into that building,” Nikolai orders. They obey without
hesitation.

“Please
don’t kill him,” Jojo pleads. I tighten my grip on her shoulders.

He
puts his mouth close to Jeremy’s ear and says, “If you ever so much as think
about touching either one of these ladies ever again, I will … Hunt. You.
Down.” The two men shuffle toward the door where Jeremy’s cowardly friends just
entered, and Nikolai shoves the wheezing man forward. Jeremy trips over his
feet in his effort to get away from Nikolai and back into the club. Turning to
face us, I get the look; as in, I’m going to get my ass chewed out for a)
getting caught at a strip club in the worst part of Milan and b) not using our
driver to get around the city. The black outfit he wears only serves to
heighten the intensity of the emotions storming in his face.

“Let
us go. My car is around the corner. Now!” he growls. Both Jojo and I obey
without hesitation.

~Nikolai~

Back
at Adriana’s townhouse, I sit in the living room and wait for Adriana to put
her friend to bed. She comes back downstairs still dressed in her wet clothes.

“Let
us get you dried off before you catch the death of a cold.” I head into her
bathroom, and she does not say a word for the longest time while I am drying her
body. Worried about her silence, I make my way upstairs to her room and manage
to conjure up an outfit that consists of a T-shirt and leggings, her favorites.
She takes them, gets dressed, and rejoins me in the living room.

“You
got your wish. We broke up. Luca and me.” Her voice cracks on the last few
words and her lip starts trembling. She is wrong, though. I never wanted to see
her in pain this way.

I
make the decision to throw every hesitation that has been holding me back from
my happiness out the door. I want Adriana Dostovsky. I have wanted her for a
long time now. Denying my feelings is no longer an option. Doing so is like
handing over a portion of my soul to the reaper, as I do more and more
degrading things to those who are unfortunate enough to open the vein of their
lifeline for me, a vampire with a jaded soul, a drunk hung over on the scent of
a woman he should not be desiring in this way.

“There
is a party at my house next weekend. I would like for you to come.” The words
escape before I can stop myself.

Because
I am selfish, a bastard.
In love.

“You
mean one of those orgy things?”

I
nod and smile a little. Her innocence touches me. “Why?” Rishka asks, but I can
already see her face softening to the idea, even though she has declared me the
mortal enemy of all she holds close to her heart.

“I
need to show you who I am. A part of my life I have kept hidden from you.”
Then
maybe you can decide if I am truly the man you want to be with
, is what I
don’t say.

The
designer was right. I have been holding Adriana a prisoner. I own a vital part
of her soul, keeping her to myself, and exercising that power whenever it’s
convenient for me to do so. I know this, which is why I kissed her at
Katerina’s party ... because I knew I could. The manipulation ends tonight, for
better or worse.

Nikolai

I cannot believe she came to the party.
However, my Rishka stands in the living room, her face taking in all my guests,
her eyes roving over the woman situated at my feet; a swinger I met one night
while I was hanging out at a bar with Alek last week. Moving the woman aside, I
stand up and head straight toward Adriana, stopping only when I manage to read
the expression on her face: a mixture of hurt, betrayal, pain, curiosity.
Focused on her face, I ignore the hands of other women grasping at my shirt, my
hair, even my crotch as I head toward the only thing I can see right now.
Something in the way she hugs herself, her eyes guarded as I come closer, makes
me stop a couple of feet away from her.

“I did not think you would come,” I say
honestly.

“That’s the problem with us, Nikolai. You
still don’t see me for who I truly am.”

“Oh, I see you.” But the question
remains, what will she do now that she gets to experience this part of my life,
the real me?

“Nikolai, are you coming back, love?” the
woman I left behind asks me. “Is your pretty little friend going to join us?”

With my gaze still locked on Adriana, I say, “Head on out to
the pool. We may join you later.” She kisses my cheek and slinks away toward
Mikhail, who is standing just outside the patio doors.

Another girl runs her hands over
Adriana’s shoulders, massaging them, and for a brief moment I allow myself to
experience a vision of the redheaded girl and my Rishka making out together in
my bedroom upstairs … because that is the twisted way my fucked up mind works.
I understand I might not be able to have her, but I sure as hell do not intend
for
him
to stake his claim on her any more than he has already done,
either.

“This party’s intense. Wow.” She glances
around, her blue eyes taking in the people partying inside my house. I can tell
she is uncomfortable.

“Let me get us away from all this,” I
suggest. She nods. Taking her hand, I lead her up the stairs, to my bedroom,
and out to the balcony overlooking Lake Giardino. She is too quiet, like a
ghost following along. The vibrant girl I have come to love has flown away.

“Would you look at this view,” she
murmurs as she glances out across the water, sadness in her eyes as she does
so.

“Why the sad face?” I ask.

Shrugging, she says, “This spot, or
rather this view, reminds me of something.” I know she is thinking about him.
This moment belongs to me, to us. I turn and pull her into my arms, inhaling
her scent: lavender and vanilla.

“It kills me to know you have given
yourself to someone else,” I whisper in her ear.

“Nikolai, I—” I lift my head and place
two fingers on her lips.

“I know I have behaved badly, but it is
only out of desperation. I am sorry.”

“Nikolai—”

I cover her mouth with kisses the way I
have always wanted to do many times before. Only something is different. Maybe
it is in the way she does not respond with the passion I remember from the
previous few times we locked lips. Or maybe it is in the way her body has
tensed in my arms. She pulls back, eases out of my embrace, and turns toward
the water.

“I can’t. I ... I’m sorry.
You sent me away. No wait, that’s not
true. You walked out on me and told me to move on. So I did.” Her loose, dark
hair blows in the wind and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through
the soft strands while I am making love to her.

I have lost her. I can tell by the way
she stares at the lake instead of me, this ghost of the girl she left behind in
Venice.

“I still can’t believe what you did for
me. He was your family. I’ll be forever grateful for your sacrifice, but it’s
time for us to let go of our past lives,” she says quickly, as though voicing
the words out loud will hurt me. So that is why she is here. To her, I am a
lost cause and she feels sorry for me. “I need some time to be on my own. To
sort through some things.”

“You are choosing the designer.”

“I haven’t chosen anyone. I can’t make
any decisions until my head is clear. Please understand.”

“I do.” I ease my way over to where she
stands and uncross her arms. Wrapping my arms around her body, I say, “Take all
the time you need. I will be here waiting for you. Always.”

~Luca~

The thought of my badass ballerina lying
in the arms of another man, that perfect little face twisted in pleasure as he
makes love to her, kills a little bit more of me inside each day we’re apart.
It has been weeks since I last touched her body. I can’t think, eat, or sleep.
The ability to make logical decisions has suddenly escaped me. I’ve been asked
to come back to F.I.T. and teach a class of American students for a two week
summer course. The thought of doing something like that right now makes me
cringe. I’m losing my creative edge and don’t want to broadcast my handicap.

Black Butterfly has a second showing
coming up in a few days since the first one featuring Erin’s pieces for
Aleksandr Dostovsky’s show made such an impact on the fashion scene. This time,
we’re showcasing the designs I’ve created for Ines Barilla’s production of
Seraphine. I’m sure I’ll fuck that up for us, too. My trips to Venice have
taken a toll on my mood according to Erin. And none of the women that have been
throwing themselves at me have been able to capture my interest. No woman can
rival a girl who has the essence of an ocean inside her eyes.

Time to admit it. I’m hopeless.