“This palazzo has been in my family for generations. I’ve always found it to be one of our more beautiful properties.”
I squeeze his arm in response, still taking in the sights. The door he opens for me is made of a dense, pale gray limestone—most likely Istrian stone. I run my hand over the cool surface of it as we step into the lobby area. The stone is smooth with age, and I’m distracted by thinking about the age of the building when I’m suddenly struck mute by the interior.
I walk in slowly, trailing behind Alex, trying to look in every direction at once. Everywhere I look is decorated in beautiful Renaissance era art, some paintings and tapestries reaching floor to ceiling. Rich red carpets are strewn over the floors, and the decorations dotting the tables and shelves aren’t even trying to be subtle. Every little piece of art looks like a priceless museum display. Even the ceiling is covered in beautiful, exquisitely detailed frescos. I feel like I have walked into the home of a Venetian Duchess.
“Wow…” I breathe, unable to focus on any one thing at once. Alex chuckles, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the hallways.
“Alex,” I tell him, “this place is incredible.”
Alex shrugs. “It’s beautiful, I’ll give you that. It has always just felt a little gaudy to me.”
He stops in front of an ornately carved wooden door, opening it and gesturing for me to go inside. The bedroom, like the rest of the house, is decorated impeccably, if a bit busily. The centerpiece of the room, an enormous four post bed, is covered in heavy down blankets and fluffy pillows, partially concealed by velvet privacy curtains. I bet that if I was to climb into the bed and pull the curtains closed, that it’d be like its own little private world for sleeping…and other activities.
I look over at him speculatively. He’s opening dresser drawers and checking the entire room over when I walk behind him and slip my arms around his waist. I feel him stiffen, and he stands straight, slowly turning around in my arms. When he looks down at me, his eyes are hooded, and my insides feel tingly. I recognize that look. His expression softens as I move my arms to loop around his neck, standing on my tiptoes and leaning into him. My lips are mere inches from his, and I whisper his name. He cups the back of my head, and I’m sure he’s about to give in and kiss me here in this fairytale bedroom when suddenly he sweeps my feet out from underneath me, holding me in his arms, and walks toward the bed. Mentally, I’m celebrating my victory over Alex and his insistence on celibacy when he tosses me on the sheets…
And pulls the curtains shut, closing me in alone.
“Hey!” I yell, and Alex snorts.
“Douse the fire in your loins, Petra, and get ready, we’ve got some shopping to do.”
I sputter, untangling myself from the blankets and yanking the curtains open.
Alex is still standing at the foot of the bed, the palm of his hand pressed to his mouth to hold in his laughter. I try to kick him, but he simply steps back, still grinning behind his hand as he does so.
“What’s your problem!” I screech.
He removes his hand from his face and shrugs. “I’m not sure what you mean. You came onto me when I was trying to make you comfortable in your bedroom,” Alex replies innocently.
I pause. “Wait. You mean our bedroom, right?”
He shakes his head. “No, I mean your bedroom. I will not be sharing your bed in any capacity.”
“This is ridiculous!” I rebuke, stomping after him as he leaves the room. I grab my coat on the way out, and we pass the house employees emptying the first taxi boat of our belongings as Alex leads me to a second, smaller taxi boat. I’m still ready to give him a piece of my mind when he holds out his hand for me to step into the boat, but before I can start, my stomach rumbles audibly. Alex’s eyes widen and I can tell he’s fighting a smile. He says a few short words to the boat driver as we get settled down for the trip to go God knows where.
Now that my indignation is starting to fade, I realize how hungry I really am. I hold my stomach and Alex pats me on the shoulder.
“I told the driver to make a pit stop since apparently I have allowed you to starve,” he teases.
I want to snap at him, but I don’t want to ruin any chance of a yummy side trip. Alex allows me to snuggle close to him as the boat launches into the canals. Warm against his body, I take in the sights of the glorious city, which is so different from anywhere I had ever been before. Everything looks classic and centuries-old, and I imagine how it would look to float slowly down the water with the city fully lit up at night. All the buildings are brick, stone, or marble, and the entire city seems like it could have materialized from the pages of a book.
I feel Alex watching my expression, and I glance up at him with big eyes. He blows out a breath and turns away from me, but he points out certain sights of interest, giving me a private tour in his deep, quiet voice. I hang on his every word, enraptured.
“This is the Rialto Bridge, built in the twelfth century. It’s the oldest bridge that spans the Grand Canal, and…”
I nod as he narrates, paying less attention to his words and more to the timbre of his voice vibrating through his chest where I am pressed close to him. He can tell me the chemical composition of the water for all I cared, as long as he was speaking to me because truthfully, I’ve missed my husband deeply.
The driver slides the sleek wooden boat into a small docking area, and we depart. I see people dining outside of restaurants and try to guess which one Alex will take us to, but he passes them all. I turn around, looking forlornly at the pasta and pizzas on other patrons’ plates.
“Hey, Alex,” I begin, but he shushes me.
“I know what you’re thinking, hungry girl, but I’m taking you to a well-kept secret place to get you something special.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I roll my eyes with a knowing grin. After passing all the amazing-looking bistros, Alex stops at a mundane-looking street food cart. My grin turns into a frown.
“Stop pouting,” Alex says, but there is laughter in his voice. He speaks to the purveyor, and after a few minutes, he’s handed two large paper cones, overflowing with something that smells heavenly. I can see fried tempura vegetables on top of something creamy and bright yellow with a spoon sticking up out of the cup. The scent makes my mouth water. I reach out and snatch a cone from his grip, and he laughs harder. Inspecting the cone, I see tempura broccolini, peppers, and asparagus pieces. They are all crispy, brown, and covered in seasoning. Underneath the veggies is the creamy yellow substance that I’m pleasantly surprised to find is polenta with wilted spinach, garlic, and sun-dried tomatoes.
Alex looks at me expectantly as I pop a ring of fried pepper in my mouth. I nearly go cross-eyed from pleasure as it melts in my mouth, an explosion of spices and crunchy breading. I must have made an audible noise because Alex nods his head in satisfaction and starts on his own snacks as we walk back to the boat.
I’m craning my head at the surrounding buildings, about to put a piece of asparagus in my mouth, when I hear the click of Alex’s phone camera. I whip around at him and try to grab his iPhone from his hand, but he holds it above me.
“Knock it off, Petra. Let me pretend for a moment like everything is normal between us and take some pictures of my favorite woman enjoying my favorite food.”