Page 6 of Casanova LLC

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“God.” Groaning, I pushed off the wall, crossed to the glass divider. “Why do people think that matters? Just because you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s not your responsibility to make it right? If possible?”

I could feel him staring at me. That had brought him up short. He sounded surprised when he said, “I actually agree. In fact, a wrong has clearly been done here and I want to make it right.”

I turned to him. “What wrong? With what?”

“You.”

“How so?”

“You’re going to make everyone whole. When do you get made whole?”

I didn’t know how to respond. “Alessandro…” Only as his name came out of my mouth did I realize it was the first time I’d ever said it. “I’m sorry. I’ve lost all aptitude for riddles. What are you saying, exactly?”

“I would like to propose a barter.”

“With what?”

“Well. In all bartering, there must be an equal exchange of goods. You are giving me back what I value as priceless, therefore?—”

“Trust me, there is nothing I have, and certainly nothing I don’t, that you could give me that I’d consider pr?—”

“Claire.” And that was the first time he’d said my name. “You know me as a painter. But I have a day job. A service I provide.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “And what priceless service would that be?”

“Love.”

Alessandro

That face.

Her face. Suspended in open-mouthed, breathless shock.

Bellissima.

“Oh. I don’t… I’m not—I mean, I’m flattered, but I can’t—I can’t even begin to think about another relationship right?—”

“I’m not offering a relationship,” I clarified.

“Oh. Sorry. You’re offering—what are you offering?”

“Just love.” She blinked so I went further. “The pleasures of love.”

After one suspended beat, she outright laughed. “The pleasures of love?” When I didn’t return her laugh, she assessed me. “Who…or what exactly are you?”

“A professional.”

“A professional what? Womanizer?”

“Lover.” Color flooded her face in a surge. “A trained expert in the art of pleasure.”

She swung her head around in the direction of the river. I’d knocked her off her axis and she needed the horizon to get her bearings. Her eyes, when they came back to mine, were dropping anchor in a murky depth. “Let me make sure I have this straight.” Her voice was equally murky. “You are offering to—to pleasure me…and in exchange for me giving myself to you, you get your paintings back?”

“You misunderstand?—”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think I do.” She stepped right up to me. “You would have me and your paintings.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. A real win-win.” She brushed past me, toward the door. “For you.”

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