Page 31 of Casanova LLC

I looked down at the step.

“It’s hinged.”

“Hinged?”

“Like a…like a chest.”

I bent down and ran my hand across the top of the step, one of those models on a game show. “Oh! Well, good to know.” I gave it a pat and stood.

He could clearly sense my awkwardness because he shrugged. “Everyone wants different things. But, in the end, it’s all about pleasure. It’s so simple. And yet I’m continually surprised at how complicated it can get.”

“Why does it have to be so complicated?” It was rhetorical. Sad, even.

“Pleasure’s not. We are.”

He grabbed the bottle from the ice and moved to me. I held up my glass and he refilled it then retreated to put the bottle back. In the meantime, I turned to the bed and took a centering breath. I ran my hand over the red velvet coverlet.

I felt him come up behind me. But he didn’t touch me. He touched the coverlet, right by my fingers. “Do you like this color?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“But do you like it?”

“Maybe it’s a bit…” I looked back at him. “Bordello?”

He laughed. “I agree. But what instead?” He studied the material, clicking into artist mode. “Black would be too severe, gold would be gaudy, pastel isn’t sexy. Silver, possibly, just not too gray. Sapphire?”

I couldn’t believe we were having a design conversation. I didn’t mind it. I actually minded it not at all.

“What about this?” I pointed to my lips.

His eyes lingered there for an extended moment. “Pink?”

I shook my head. “It’s not pink. It’s charred blush. It actually came from you. From your painting. There was a wall?—”

“Across the rio, the side canal. You can see it from my room on the fourth floor. The sun hits it late in the day and?—”

I smiled at him. “That’s the one. I’d love to see it while I’m here.”

“I’ll make a point of it.” I raised the glass to my lips, but he took it from me. He tipped it toward the light, peering at the lipstick mark on the rim. “It truly is beautiful.” He looked back toward the coverlet. “That could be just right.”

I lifted my hand to take the glass back, but he put it to his own mouth, his lips fitting perfectly over the impression of mine, and kept his eyes on me as he took the final sip from my glass.

He really just did that.

Grinning, the panther turned back to the bar. “I’ll top this off and we’ll go eat.” He tipped the rest of the bottle into them, led me out of the bedroom, and back into the salon.

We passed through the extraordinary room and silently made our way to the door of the dining room. He opened it, gesturing me in first, followed, and then blurted: “Che diavolo?”

I whipped around. “Sorry?”

“Nothing. Apologies, I just…” He looked back at the table and mumbled, “Figlio di puttana, I—would you excuse me for a moment?” Smiling tightly, he beelined for the kitchen. As he passed the table that had been set for two, I noticed a third setting had materialized. Candles had been lit in the fireplace. Alessandro arrived at the butler’s door just as it swung open, whacking into him.

Jacopo, carrying a charcuterie board and a bottle of wine, lifted them both with open arms. “Buonasera!”

Episode 3

“There is no such thing as destiny. We ourselves shape our lives.”

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