I can’t wear underwear with this, I thought, grimacing, looking at myself in the mirror.
Roberto Cavalli had foreseen this, though, and in strategic places, the dress lost its translucence. It didn’t change the fact that I simply would have felt better with at least a G-string on.
I grabbed my bag, sprayed on some perfume, slid my feet into a pair of elegant sandals, and went to the door. I stopped by the mirror for one last time. I looked mind-blowing. The incredible, smoky, black-and-gold makeup complemented the tan of my skin perfectly, and the chignon on the top of my head made me look slimmer and classier. The heap of faux hair was worth it, I thought, running my hand along the intricate structure on my head.
I went out and took a look around. There was a bottle of champagne and a glass—already filled—on the table. I was getting used to that. So the Man in Black must be somewhere close. I walked over to the table and poured another glass. For a while I wandered around the boat, peeking into darker spots, but didn’t find anyone. At some point I noticed that the Titan had reached land. There was a magnificent vista of lights flickering in the distance for me to enjoy.
“This is Lido, which they call the beach of Venice,” I heard the familiar voice say.
I turned my head toward the speaker. It was Domenico, sipping on his champagne.
“I knew that dress would be perfect. You look absolutely stunning, Laura.” He stepped closer to me and planted a kiss on both my cheeks.
“I missed you, Domenico,” I replied, hugging him.
“Now, now, dear, or else Poli and his girlfriend, Luigi, will have to start all over,” he said with a laugh, and led me to a pair of leather armchairs, offering me a seat.
“Where is don Massimo?” I asked, taking a sip. Domenico sent me an apologetic look. I hadn’t noticed before that he was wearing a tuxedo. That could only mean one thing—the Man in Black bailed on me again.
“He had to—”
I raised a hand, silencing Domenico. “Let’s just have some fun tonight,” I said, tilting my glass and downing it in one gulp.
The motorboat that we took was slowly angling toward one of the canals of Venice, while I allowed myself to fall deep into thought. Did I want this year to last, all of a sudden? Or maybe even more? Or was that too much? Maybe if Massimo got what he wanted, he’d let me go now… But did I want to go back to my old life? Why did I keep yearning for him so? Domenico woke me up from this reverie.
“We’re nearly there. Are you ready?” he asked, offering me a hand.
I stood up, but the sight of all those people, lights, the pomp and splendor suddenly terrified me.
“No, I’m not. I’ll never be. I don’t want to be ready. Why are we doing this, Domenico?” I asked, eyes wide with fear when the boat drew up to the shore.
“For me, of course.” I head the familiar accent and felt a warm wave flood over me. “Sorry for the confusion. I didn’t think I’d get here on time, but we arrived at an agreement fairly quickly, so here I am.”
I raised my eyes, seeing my resplendent captor waiting on the quay. He was wearing a double-breasted black tuxedo and looked straight out of a fairy tale. I was overawed. His white shirt brought out the color of his skin and the elegant bow tie was so classy. He looked so dignified.
“Come.” Massimo offered me a hand, and a moment later I was standing next to him on solid ground.
I smoothed down my dress and lifted my eyes, meeting his gaze. He held me tightly by the hand, looking as dazed as I was.
“Laura…” he said, then trailed off, frowning. “You look so ravishing tonight, I don’t know if I want anyone else but me to see you like this.”
I smiled at those words in mock modesty.
“Don Massimo!” It was Domenico. “We have to go. They’ve seen us already. Please, your masks.”
Who saw us? Why did we have to go all of a sudden? I took the beautiful lace mask offered to me.
Massimo turned to me, tied it over my face, and purred, brushing his nose against its rim. “What is it about you and lace… I love it,” he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on my lips.
Before he managed to pull away, the flashing lights of the paparazzi illuminated the night. I started to panic. Massimo slowly took a step back and turned toward the photographers with his arm around my waist. He did not smile, instead just waiting until they were done. The crowd of paparazzi reverberated with calls in Italian, while I just tried to look as dignified as I could, though my legs were shaking.
The Man in Black waved a hand as if signaling that this was enough, and we headed toward the entrance along the red carpet. Having crossed the hall, we reached the ballroom lined with monumental pillars. There were candles and white flowers on round tables. Most guests wore masks, which suited me—my own mask gave me the illusion of anonymity.
We sat down at one of the tables. We were the last people to join that particular table. Waiters arrived a moment later, serving appetizers followed by other dishes.
CHAPTER 10
The banquet was as boring as they got: I’d organized hundreds of similar affairs, so my only diversion was to silently point out all the errors the staff was making. Massimo was conversing with the men sitting at our table, discreetly stroking my thigh once in a while.
“I need to go to the other room,” he said. “Unfortunately, you may not participate in that conversation. I’ll leave you under Domenico’s care.” He kissed me on the forehead and left for the door, trailed by the other men.
My assistant materialized immediately, taking Massimo’s chair.
“That woman in the red dress looks like a giant furball,” he said, and we both erupted in laughter, watching an elderly lady in a dress reminiscent of a Christmas tree decoration. “If not for those fashion curios, I’d be dying of boredom,” he added.
I knew how he felt, and I was so glad he joined me. For nearly another hour, we talked and drank champagne. When we were suitably tipsy, we decided to take a shot at dancing.
The dance floor was crowded, but this was a formal party. Can’t go too crazy here, I thought, glancing at the string quartet. After a couple of ballroom dances I had enough. As opposed to Domenico, I was an exquisite dancer—my dearest mother had always made me go to dance lessons until I finished high school.
As we were moving toward our table again, I head someone speaking in Polish.
“Laura? Guess we were meant to spend that night together after all, eh?”
I turned around and saw Marek, dressed up elaborately, wearing a glossy gray suit.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.
“My company works for most hotels around here. Besides, it’s a charity ball and I’m one of the sponsors,” he said with a shrug.
Domenico cleared his throat loudly.
“Oh, right,” I said, switching to English. “This is Domenico—my assistant and friend.”
The men greeted each other in Italian, and we were about to walk off when the string quartet was joined by other musicians and the entire room was filled with the sounds of Argentinean tango. I squealed with glee. Both men sent me puzzled looks.
“I love tango,” I said, sending Domenico a meaningful look.
“For the last fifteen minutes I’ve been stepping on your toes and you’re telling me you haven’t had enough yet?”