Page 117 of Casanova LLC

He looked up as I banged in. Watched me eat up the tile in front of me.

He opened his mouth.

I held up a preemptive finger. “Don’t.”

“Sandro, I was only going to?—”

“I said fucking DON’T.” My voice ricocheted around the watery enclosure. That stopped him.

As much as I wanted to jump into the Riva—or possibly the canal—I stopped long enough to ask, “Are you hurt?”

“No. Not to worry.”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I fell. That’s all.”

I nodded in agreement and leapt down into the Riva.

“If I can?—”

“You can’t.” I opened the porta d’acqua, started the engine, and took off.

Claire

I packed as quickly as I could, throwing things into my suitcase. Not caring about neatness. Not caring about anything. Discombobulated, I kept reaching for things that weren’t there, kept turning in circles looking for things I already had in hand. As I gathered my clothes from the closet, my toiletries from the bathroom, I tried to make sure I didn’t accidentally pack anything of his in my stupor. It took me a whole hour to pull everything together. Myself included.

Only on my way out did I notice the envelope sitting on the sideboard in the hall, Bella scrawled across the front. I peeked inside. Jacopo had delivered the favor I’d asked of him.

I lugged my suitcase and backpack down the stone staircase, making a loud bang on each step. But no one was there to hear it. The palazzo seemed eerily empty.

I realized how wrong I was about that when I opened the front door to the pier. I heard the door to the boat garage open, simultaneously, as if they were connected. I didn’t dare turn around, but I did momentarily stop. Footsteps. Bracing myself, I heard, “Bella. What are you doing?” Jacopo. My heart readjusted and I grabbed a solid breath.

I let the door close, pasted on a smile, and turned. “Ah! Glad you’re here.” I opened my backpack and dug around inside. “Your gift. I was just about to leave it on your boat.”

Jacopo appraised me as he approached. “But why?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Surely you will not leave until the morning, no?”

“No. No, I’m leaving now.”He peered at me in the low evening light of the androne. I kept digging in my bag. “Sorry, they were right here a minute ago.”

“If I may, you seem upset. Can I be of assistance?”

“I’m fine. But could you call a taxi?”

“Where are you thinking to go at this time of night?”

“The airport.”

“But the airport, it is closed.”

“Then just—” I gave up momentarily on the hunt through my backpack. “Sorry, I need some air, I’ll just be—” I didn’t finish. I pushed the door open and dragged my bags outside.

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