Midnight in Venice by Meadow Taylor Page B

much obligated to go. I warn you it’ll be a bit wild, but I thought you might find it interesting, and we could always go somewhere else after—”
    â€œI’d love to go,” she said, taking the invitation. A drop of rain smudged the ink. “But I’m flying to New York tomorrow at noon. I’m organizing a show of Murano glass jewelry for the gallery there . . . Rocco’s actually . . .”
    Alessandro looked disappointed. She wished every plane in the country would be grounded so she could go to the party with him. Another bomb scare? “I’ll be back in a week. Maybe then . . .”
    â€œYes. Call me. We can go for dinner.”
    She went to give back the invitation, but he shook his head. “Keep it,” he said. “In case you change your mind about going to New York, or there’s another bomb scare.”
    She laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. I’d call one in myself, but then you really would have to arrest me.”
    He laughed too, and there was a sudden easiness between them.
    â€œWill you play your encore again for me sometime?” she asked.
    His smile lit up the night. “If you’ll let me kiss you now, I’ll play it as often as you like.”
    Of course she let him, stepping into the circle of his arms while the rain fell behind her on the canal.
    â€œYou need to get back to your father,” she whispered.
    â€œI’ll call you a water taxi.”
    â€œI’d rather walk, and you’re the one who says Venice is safe.”
    â€œIt is. But trouble seems to have a way of finding you here. Or maybe it’s me trouble follows. Either way, I’d be far more comfortable if you’d let me send Dad’s bodyguard with you. And text me when the door is locked behind you.”
    She agreed, wishing Alessandro was seeing her home. She’d invite him in, of course, and he’d of course say yes, and they could pick up this kiss where they had left off . . .
    As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Believe me, I wish I could be the one taking you home. I can’t believe it’ll be another week before I can kiss you again . . .”
    He kissed her now while they waited for the bodyguard to appear. After Alessandro introduced him as Francesco, they wished each other a more demure goodnight and parted ways.
    She recognized the street she and Francesco followed, and she watched the doors until she found the one bearing Marco’s name. She paused and looked up at the shuttered windows. “My cousin lives here,” she explained to Francesco. “But he’s in Iceland right now.”
    It was strange Marco had never asked her to keep an eye on his apartment while he was away. She worried she might have offended him with her lack of enthusiasm for it. Did he sense she thought his taste ostentatious?
    Marco tried too hard, she thought. He tried too hard with his apartment, just like he tried too hard with men. She really hoped this new relationship worked out for him. He really deserved to find someone wonderful.
    They crossed the Grand Canal by way of the Accademia Bridge and soon turned into Olivia’s street. Francesco insisted on coming in with her and checking the apartment before he left. It seemed like overkill. Even if someone wanted to get into her apartment, they’d have three locked doors to get through: the one from the street into the courtyard, the one into the building, and the one into the apartment itself. But Francesco was only doing his job, so she waited awkwardly inside the door while he checked the rooms.
    â€œMake sure you fasten the deadbolt too,” he said when he finished.
    She thanked him and wished him a goodnight, then locked the door and immediately fastened the deadbolt.
    Text me when the door is locked behind you
, Alessandro had said. She took out her cellphone and saw two texts, one from Marco and another from Silvio.
    The one from Silvio had come in