From Venice With Love: Secrets of Castillo del Arco

‘I don’t know, Phillipa. It’s driving me crazy, but I just don’t know.’

‘Then it’s easy, Gabriella. Everything has happened so quickly, it’s no wonder you’re confused. So, go home. Sort out the estate, go back to work and catch up with Consuelo if you must. But just take some time to clear your head. And, if he’s the one for you, if he truly loves you, you will know.’

‘How will I know?’

‘Because he won’t be able to live without you.’

When Phillipa put it like that, it all made such sense. She was too close to him here, in this fantasy palazzo in one of the most romantic cities in the world, it was no wonder she couldn’t think straight.

She would tell him tonight at dinner.

The decision made, her flight home booked for the next day, Gabriella spent the afternoon with Natania. They wandered the fascinating shops and factories of Murano, shop after shop filled with the beautiful, the most stunning and even the most whimsical expressions of the glass-makers’ art in colours of brilliant blues and reds, some laced with gold.

Cabinet after cabinet was filled with intricate bottles, glasses and ornaments, while chandeliers, hung from every ceiling ranging from the traditional to the ultramodern.

The two women prowled the shops, stopping here and there to admire something beautiful, Gabriella found herself enjoying the day out much more than she had expected, maybe because she’d made her decision and it felt like she was taking back control of her life; maybe because Natania was such good company. One of her cousins worked on the island and her knowledge of the various glass-making techniques and styles was better than any guided tour.

Gabriella took the opportunity to buy an intricate perfume-bottle for Phillipa. And, while Natania was busy talking to her cousin, purchased a necklace that simply begged to be around Natania’s neck—a glass heart, a brilliant red with splashes of gold, wild and sensual like the woman herself. It would be her thank-you gift.

She was just paying for her purchases when Natania said farewell to her cousin and they moved onto the next store—the last one, she had promised herself, before they caught the water taxi home so she could pack.

‘Why must you leave so soon?’ asked Natania beside her.

‘I can hardly stay here for ever. I have a job I have to get back to in Paris some time. And a house waiting that is being neglected in my absence. Plus, there are the friends I want to visit.’

Natania nodded to her long list of reasons and asked, ‘So, do you love him?’

Gabriella simply blinked. Natania was the second person to ask that question today. Was it so obvious? She sighed, conceding the point, knowing there was no point beating around the bush with her. ‘I think I have always loved him, Natania—as a friend. But lately, that love has changed …’

The other woman nodded, as if satisfied. ‘He is not an easy man to love. He has a dark past that colours his world.’ Almost immediately she moved away to investigate another table of ornaments. Gabriella followed, intrigued. ‘How long exactly have you worked for Raoul?’

She shrugged, setting the gold hoops in her ears bouncing while her eyes searched the past. ‘Ten years, maybe eleven. I am not so good with numbers.’

‘Did you ever meet his wife?’

She threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘That was not a good time for him.’

‘So you met her?’

‘No. But I saw what it did to him. I saw what it cost. It was an ugly time.’

Gabriella wanted to ask why, and what else she wasn’t telling her, except then she found it—what she had been looking for all the time she had been on Murano and hadn’t even realised.

A gift for Raoul.

It was sitting amidst a sea of pretty ornaments, so many, too many to choose from, but this one was different. This one spoke to her. A paperweight. And at its base it swirled with darkness, clouds of purple to black, like the dark, dank sea. As it rose, the colours shifted and turned, still complex and rich in density but with the promise of light captured in the darkness. At the very top it was the clearest, sparkling crystal while at its heart sat a brilliant splash of red.

It was Raoul, she realised as she picked it up and held it in her hand. It was Raoul and all his complexities, all his moods. And his heart, locked away somewhere deep inside it all, the heart he had shown her these last few days—the heart he had all but given her last night.

Maybe she would leave and he would not follow her, be able to live without her—but she could leave him with this, and maybe one day he would understand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

GABRIELLA found him in his office, already back from Paris on their return. ‘Raoul?’ He turned at her voice. ‘Am I interrupting? Is this a bad time?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said, closing down his laptop. ‘Come in.’ He rose to meet her, kissing her cheeks, warming her senses with his signature scent, bringing back last night’s memories in a rush that had her cheeks flushing and her body preparing all over again for their coupling. ‘You are a sight for sore eyes, Bella. I’m sorry I could not have been with you today.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, only a half lie. While it had mattered at the time, now it merely increased her resolve that what she was doing was right. Time and distance were what she needed, despite what her body kept trying to tell her. ‘How did your business go?’

He waved his hand as if dismissing it. ‘A nuisance, nothing more, but unfortunately it had to be dealt with today.’ He took her hand. ‘I hated to leave you like I did but I was loath to wake you, knowing how little sleep you got. Can you forgive me?’

She tried to ignore the flush of heat that flowed into her arm at his touch but there was no ignoring the heat that infused her face. They both knew he was the reason she’d had so little sleep. ‘I found you a present,’ she said, wanting to change the subject before she thought about what he could do to her to earn her forgiveness. ‘While we were in Murano.’

He stilled, sensing something was not quite right. She was nervous and distant, as though she’d erected a wall between them in the hours since he’d left her sleeping. He cursed the impulse that had seen him take off for Paris rather than handle what was happening here. But then, something had changed last night, something that he had not planned, and he had needed the space to deal with it.

‘You do not need to buy me gifts,’ he said. You would not want to, if you only knew …

‘It’s nothing. Here,’ she said, holding out the package to him.

He regarded it solemnly before taking the surprisingly heavy gift, strangely touched by this unexpected gesture.

‘Open it,’ she urged. Once again he caught a glimpse of that enthusiasm she had, that bright spark of life he’d once found so challenging, a quality he now associated with her and that he looked for—because it would mean his dark heart had not extinguished that spark, despite his early moodiness. ‘Unless,’ she added, a little sadly, he thought, ‘You would rather open it later?’

‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head, not wanting her to be sad now, knowing that there was enough disappointment and sadness ahead of her. Cursing himself, because with Garbas free he could see no way around it. ‘I want to see what you have found me.’

So he slipped off the ribbon and peeled open the tissue paper until he held the cool, glass weight of her gift in the palm of his hand.

‘It’s a paperweight,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I thought you could use it in your office. It reminded me of you.’

He lifted it to the light, examining the mix of dark and light, the skilful melding and weaving of the different levels of colour with a core of intense red at its centre. With an electric charge up his spine, he saw what she so wanted to see.

She was wrong, of course.

‘Do you always see the good in people, Bella?’ he said, looking at her. Even when they are not good? Even when they want something from you that you should not have to give?

She looked confused. ‘I just wanted to give you a gift, Raoul. I’m sorry if you don’t like it; I just wanted to get you something to remember me by.’

And suddenly every hair on the back of his neck stood up. ‘Why would I need something to remember you by? You’re not going somewhere?’

‘I have to go, Raoul. I’ve had the best time—really I have—but I’m in your way here; I know. And besides, I have a job to go back to. I can’t stay here for ever, after all.’

He had blown it. There was a tightness in his throat, but it was no match for the ball tearing its way through his gut. She had been eating out of the palm of his hand and he had blown it by leaving her alone because he had had to go to Paris.

No, that wasn’t true; he could have handled his business from here, over the phone, could have given his contacts new leads to follow up in their investigations. It was because he had been afraid of getting too close—and now it had cost him. ‘When are you planning on leaving?’

‘Tomorrow. I’ve booked my ticket. Marco said he’d take me to the airport.’

So soon!

‘Are you mad at me, Bella, for abandoning you today? I knew I should not have left you that way …’

‘No, Raoul. It is more than that. This has been a lovely escape, truly, but I need to get back to my life. It is not like we won’t see each other again, surely?’

‘Of course,’ he said, knowing there was no way he could let her return to Paris. Not yet. Garbas would need funds and plenty of them if he was to mount any kind of serious legal defence against the criminal charges already laid against him. He would have his dogs watching. He would know the moment she returned home. And then he would make up some excuse for her about why the charges had been laid in the first place, and ask if she could lend the money from her inheritance to fund his defence.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Which meant he could not let her go.

‘I’m sorry you feel you must leave,’ he said cautiously, careful not to overplay his hand. ‘But if that is what you believe you must do …’

‘I must go, Raoul,’ she said, though her eyes were tinged with sadness, as if she was half-disappointed that he did not argue the point. He took heart from the observation, realising that maybe all was not lost after all. ‘My stay in Venice has been wonderful, but I have to return to the real world at some stage.’

‘In that case,’ he said, knowing that he only had one more shot at this, ‘We must not waste a moment of tonight.’

Raoul had suggested formal for the dress code, so she decided on the golden gown Natania had admired that first day that now seemed so long ago. They took a vaporetto to Lido, to the five-star Excelsior hotel, a palace of a hotel, no stranger to royalty, film stars and other celebrities. Gabriella tried not to think about how devastating Raoul looked in his black dinner suit but in the end she had to. It was either that or think about how easily Raoul had taken the news she was leaving tomorrow. Maybe he had been expecting it. Maybe even hoping for it.

She wasn’t disappointed, she told herself, it was simply validation that she was doing the right thing.

Even if the thought of leaving him hurt like hell.

What had she expected, though? That Raoul would beg her to stay? No, that was pure fantasy. One night in a man’s bed didn’t mean for ever. Phillipa was right, she needed distance. They both did. She was doing the right thing …

They dined in the restaurant upstairs. Sparkling champagne and the finest wines provided the lubrication, a pianist playing Vivaldi the musical score, and Venice provided the spectacular view—a view that only got better as the sun set behind the city, transforming it into a city of gold. Gabriella forgot about being disappointed because, even though she was going home tomorrow, there could be no better view in the world and no one better to share it with.

After their meal the pianist started playing dance music and Raoul put down his wine glass. ‘Dance with me, Bella,’ he said, and there was no way she could say no. Why should she? Besides, she was flying home tomorrow; she and Raoul both knew it. There was no reason she should not enjoy tonight.

So she let him take her in his arms and let him masterfully, superbly, spin her around the dance floor until her blood was dizzy. In his arms, she felt his strength and his darkness, and it was hard to separate either, just as it was impossible to separate reality from fantasy. Because this was how she wanted to remember him, a swirling, evocative explosion of feeling.

So they danced, and afterwards she couldn’t remember if there had been anyone else on the dance floor with them, absorbed so totally in the man she was dancing with, and it didn’t matter because she was with him. He held her close, so close that she could barely breathe, so close that there was no distance between them, no barrier to the growing heat, the building tension as they whirled, entwined, around the dance floor.

Would he take her to bed and make love to her again tonight? She wanted nothing more to end this night, other than a promise to meet again soon. And meanwhile every sensation, every powerful, evocative feeling, was stored away in Gabriella’s memory so that until that time she could pull them out and examine them all over again, one by precious one, in the nights when she would inevitably be alone.

Meanwhile, she lost all sense of time. She only knew that the sun had long departed and the moon had risen and she feared the night must come to an end. But he saved her from the end just yet and suggested a walk along the beach before they went home.

She slipped her jewelled sandals off before venturing onto the sand and he offered her his hand so she might carry her sandals and the skirt of her gown without losing balance. She slipped her hand into his. She saw his heated smile and felt his warm grip and let both seep deep into her bones. So what that she was leaving tomorrow? She was going to enjoy every moment of this last night with him.

Just one last night …

The beach was long and almost empty, the season late; what day trippers there had been had long since departed. The beach was theirs, a long strip of sand glowing under the light of the full moon, the air balmy and still, the dark waters laced with silver.

‘Did I tell you,’ he said after they’d walked hand in hand in companionable silence for some way, ‘How beautiful you look tonight?’

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttered in her chest like a winged beast. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you did.’

‘Then I am remiss. So let me tell you now.’ He stopped walking then and turned to her. ‘Tonight you are more beautiful than I have ever seen you. More beautiful than the sun setting over the most beautiful city in the world, more beautiful than the pearl of a moon hanging heavy in the sky.’

There was so much power in his words, so much depth and feeling, that her heart almost burst from her chest to embrace him. But at the same time she knew she dared not believe him. ‘Thank you, Raoul, but I wish you wouldn’t say such things.’

‘Why shouldn’t I tell you what I think?’

‘Because I am leaving tomorrow, and you will only make it harder—for me, at least.’

‘Then don’t leave.’

She laughed a little uncertainly and turned, starting to walk back the other way. ‘We’ve been through this. I have to go. I can’t stay here for ever.’

‘And what about what happened last night? Didn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘Hey, I wasn’t the one who left this morning without saying goodbye.’

‘I knew you were angry with me.’

‘No. I’m not angry.’ She thought about the talk she’d had with Phillipa earlier today, the sense her friend had made, even though the thought of leaving and missing out on more nights like she’d spent last night …But, no, space and distance were what she needed now. Head space. Physical distance. ‘Last night was amazing. But everything has happened so quickly, I need some time to work it all out. To work out what I want.’

He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I understand.’

They walked a little way to the sound of the sea lapping at the shore, music and laughter wafting on the breeze from a party somewhere up the coast, and she thought that was the end of the matter until he said, ‘Can I let you in on a secret?’

She turned to him. ‘Of course.’

He stopped her and took her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against her palm, sending a sizzle all the way to her toes. ‘A long time ago, I made a promise to myself. Last night, in your bed, I was tempted to break it.’

She shook her head, confused, laughing just a little to try to ease the tension. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘You see, I do not break promises easily. And wanting to break a promise made me hurt you, I think, by leaving this morning without a word.’

‘You had business, you said.’

‘I did. But I did not have to leave you to do it. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed.’

‘Raoul,’ she said, her heart tripping, ‘What are you saying?’

‘A long time ago I vowed never to marry again. I promised myself that I would never take another wife. But last night, in your bed, I came close to breaking that vow—so close that it scared me.’

Every cell in her body froze; her lungs squeezed tight, so tight she could barely get out the words. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

‘I panicked this morning. I behaved stupidly and left you, and I hurt you and made you angry when that was the last thing I wanted to do. What I really wanted to do was ask you, Bella, if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife.’

‘Raoul …’

‘I know I don’t deserve it, Bella. I know I am the last person you would want to marry, and the least deserving, but would you consider my proposal anyway? Would you marry me?’

‘You’re serious. You’re actually serious.’

‘I have never been more serious in my life.’

She looked up at him, his eyes so intent that for a second she was tempted—oh, so tempted—to fall into those dark depths and believe him.

But, no! She shook her head and started walking down the beach away from him, her heart thumping like a drum, making so much noise it was no surprise she couldn’t think straight. ‘Raoul, that’s just crazy.’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she heard him call. ‘Don’t you see why I couldn’t face you this morning?’

No. She couldn’t think. And she couldn’t see that. She couldn’t see anything, not with the sudden tears streaming down her face as she stumbled along the sand.

She wasn’t even sure what she was running from. Didn’t she want Raoul to want her? Except that it almost seemed too much, too soon. Too perfect. Too imperfect. Oh God, what should she believe?

‘Bella!’ he yelled, catching her arm, pulling her to him.

‘You didn’t want me here,’ she remembered as she slammed into his hard chest. ‘You never wanted me to come to Venice in the first place, and yet now you tell me you want to marry me?’ She punched him on the arm, on the shoulder, would have punched him on his chin if his wrist hadn’t snagged hers and dragged it down where her fist could do no damage. ‘So what are you trying to prove by asking me to marry you?’

‘What are you trying to prove? I’ve told you I want to marry you. Why do you fight that? After the night we shared, why can’t you believe that?’

She shook her head. ‘That was one night! We need more time. It’s too soon.’

‘I thought it was too soon. How could I think of breaking a promise I had made for life after such a short time with you? Don’t you think I have tortured myself all day for leaving you like I did? For leaving you thinking I didn’t care?

‘But let me make it plain—this is not about one night. Because I wanted you the moment I first set eyes on you. I wanted you then, Bella. I want you now. And I am willing to break every vow I have ever made in my life to have you, if you will only have me.’

‘But wouldn’t it be more sensible to wait?’

‘Why wait, when we feel this way? Why live apart when we are made to be together? Because if I am not mistaken you feel it too, don’t you? You feel this magic between us. Do you really believe this is going to go away? Why should we wait when we are so good together?’

There was something exciting about his words, something urgent and powerful that tugged on that part of her that wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe his words were true—maybe because they so closely mirrored her own feelings.

She didn’t really want to leave. Logic told her she should, but her heart would always stay here with Raoul, no matter how far she moved, no matter where she lived.

But still he hadn’t said the words that she so wanted to hear. ‘You tell me how much I mean to you, and yet you haven’t told me that you love me.’

‘Haven’t I?’ He took her in his arms and kissed her then, so deep and deliciously that it felt like his kiss had touched her very soul and sworn his love. ‘But then, if I didn’t love you, why else would I want to marry you?’

He kissed her again and she knew she had not imagined it the first time—that there was no way he could not love her, not when his kiss touched her so deeply, not when she knew in her heart he was the man for her.

It might be crazy, rash and all kinds of madness, but it was a madness they clearly both shared—and what point was logic and waiting when what you wanted was clearly right?

‘You are really sure about this?’ she asked one final time to be sure of what he was asking. ‘You really are serious about wanting to marry me?’

‘I have never been more serious in my life.’

And the zipper of heat that flushed out from her spine confirmed that she had no choice, no choice at all …

‘Then I will marry you, Raoul. Please, yes, I will marry you.’

‘I so wish Umberto could be here,’ she mused as Phillipa handed her the bouquet, a glorious rose concoction in soft apricot, peach and cream colours from which long ribbons fluttered. It was two minutes before the wedding ceremony was due to get underway and they were expecting a knock at the door at any moment to let them know it was time. Meanwhile she had time to think about Umberto and a moment they had both missed out on.

‘He would be so proud of you,’ Phillipa said.

Gabriella could only agree. Umberto would have had no objections to her marrying Raoul. He would have approved wholeheartedly, no doubt, which was some consolation, given he was not here to give her away. She just wished he could be here to see how she looked today.

The beaded gown clung to her body like a second skin and the hours she’d put in today at the spa and hair salon had been well worth it. Her skin was smooth, her nails perfectly manicured and her hair had been pulled up into a classic style, sleek and polished, with a few tendrils coiling around her face, a face that today even she conceded came close to beautiful. That was probably more due to the fact she couldn’t stop smiling rather than her perfectly applied make-up, but whatever it was it was working.

Today she felt like a princess from some long-ago fairy tale about to marry her fairy-tale prince. And the only thing that could have made her feel better was her grandfather being here to see her get married.

‘Strange, really, how it was Umberto’s death that brought Raoul and me together. Do you think he’ll be here somewhere today watching over us?’

‘I know he will. And he will be as happy for you as the rest of us are.’

She smiled as she looked down at the bouquet. ‘You know, I really thought you might try to talk me out of marrying Raoul, but you’ve been fantastic. Thank you.’

‘Why on earth do you say such things?’

‘Because you told me to wait and to take my time, and now I’ve gone and done neither. I thought you’d be lining up to tell me I’m about to make the mistake of my life.’