Page 89 of Casanova LLC

Our laughter subsided and we went back to the rising sun. Jacopo took hold of the wheel and put his other hand in his pocket. His face took on the appearance of a man who had already set sail. His crow’s feet crinkled and his silver hair was windblown. His appeal was not as obvious nor as deadly as Alessandro’s. He didn’t smolder. He was more of an open flame. A fire you would sit by for warmth and comfort. I was sure that in his day, he had made many women happy.

But had he been happy? Was Alessandro?

I wanted them to believe that they were cared about as much as they cared about their guests. I wanted them to have whatever they wanted.

I had to figure out a way to get Alessandro’s paintings back to him.

I pulled the robe tighter around me against the chill, retied the belt, and burrowed my hands into the pockets.

Where I felt—literally—the solution.

“Jacopo?”

“Sì?”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

* * *

I entered the palazzo and was about to ascend the stairs when I stopped. There was a faint sound, coming from I wasn’t sure where. It almost seemed musical. I listened more closely.

It was musical. Strings being plucked. Where was it coming from? I walked around the androne, about to go down a hallway I had yet to explore, but the music got fainter. I walked back to the staircase and it was more noticeable again. I walked up a few steps and it gained clarity, and as I topped the stairs, I discovered it was coming from the bedroom. I went to the smaller door, where I held back, peeking in.

Alessandro was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, naked, playing the guitar. And humming quietly to himself.

As I craned to get a better look, the floor creaked, and his head came up, finding mine.

He stopped playing. “Claire!”

“Don’t stop.” I walked into the bedroom. “It was beautiful. What is it?”

He stood. “Nothing. It’s the song we sing to our guests. The one Jacopo mentioned the other night. I was just practicing while I waited.”

“Well, what am I, chopped liver? Play it.”

He smiled softly. “I will. When you leave. That’s the tradition.”

We stared at each other. The idea of me leaving inserting itself between us. I looked away and noticed for the first time that steam was rising from the tub, that it was full. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. Were you going to take a bath?”

“No, I drew it for you. For your return.” He seemed almost nervous, though he kept his smile. “Where did you go?”

I was about to say I had coffee and biscotti with Jacopo and talked about the curse of Forevers but thought better of it. “Just out to the canal to watch the sunrise.”

“Nice. Well, feel free.” He gestured at the water and walked over to the guitar stand and I got to enjoy every long, tapered line of him.

“Only if you’ll join me?”

He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

I went to unknot the robe, but he came over and took the ties out of my hands. “Here’s where my robe went.”

“Sorry. The plum silk one is probably a bit snug on you.”

“It’s positively indecent. That’s why I had to go without.”

He pushed the robe off me. His hands came to my shoulders. Then my neck. He kissed me softly, whispered, “Good morning, Cara.”

“Mm, a better one now.”

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