Page 77 of His Two Hidden Masks

He slinked his arm in mine and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “You look gorgeous, Bella. Narrowly being arrested looks good on you.”

“You have no idea,” I said. “Narrowly arrested and possibly recorded.”

Leo gripped my arm. “No.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll tell you later. Come on, I don’t want to be rude to your friends.”

Leo pulled a chair out for me across from his guests and sat down beside me. “Aren’t you all the most beautiful creatures Venice has ever seen.”

Leo wasn’t lying; these women were beautiful.

“Hi, I’m Shea,” the woman with strawberry blonde hair said, extending her hand. She was so friendly, so American with an adorable spray of freckles on her nose.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Isabella, Uzano. Bella.”

“Oh, you are a bella, Bella,” Shea said, grinning. “I have never been to Italy before, and I just love it already.” Her gaze moved around as if she couldn’t soak in enough of the detail. “I love the food, the accents, your names.”

I laughed. This woman had a joy and a smile that was contagious. Shea wore a black leather jacket and a checkered scarf. I caught a glimpse of her red cowboy boots under the table. She looked like she might know a few cowboys.

The woman beside her extended her hand. “I’m Odessa,” she said, her voice calm and collected. Long eyelashes framed her enormous dark eyes.

The peacock blue of her coat perfectly set off her olive skin and black hair. “It is lovely to meet you, Bella.” She matched Shea’s beauty and had a quietness to her that was balanced by her bubbly friend.

Leo leaned across the table and picked up a bottle of Prosecco, pouring me a glass. “The girls are traveling together. They are in town for the ball at Doge's Palace, of course. And they took a tour of the factory yesterday. I was lucky enough to be their guide.”

“Which was amazing,” Shea said, breathless and grinning.

Odessa was more aloof, and I noticed that she had a more subtle smile than her friend. “And you both are Americans?” I asked, taking a sip of my Prosecco. The bubbles felt heavenly going down my throat.

“That’s right,” Shea said. “Born in the USA.”

Odessa said. “I was born in Ukraine, but my mother and I moved to the states when I was a baby.”

“My bad,” Shea said. “I always forget that.”

“I do, too, sometimes. Seattle is my home now.”

“We live in the same building, the Holiday Apartments,” Shea said. “Very close to the UDub.”

“Nobody knows what that means, Shea,” Odessa said, smiling as she sipped her Prosecco.

“Oh, my gosh. So rude of me. It’s near the University of Washington,” Shea said.

“No need to apologize. I think it’s lovely you both live in a place called the Holiday. That is what we call vacations here,” I said. “We go on holiday.”

“Such a better word,” Shea said. “I wish we said ‘holiday.’”

“Well, you could,” Leo said. “You can say any word you want.”

“He’s right,” Odessa said.

The easy way these women spoke to and over each other made it clear they were good friends. Shea told Leo and I all about her business as a personal trainer. She worked at a club in downtown Seattle, but was looking to open her own gym.

Odessa reluctantly told us about her job at the Seattle Children’s Hospital after Shea bragged about how brilliant her friend was. Odessa worked as a pediatric oncologist, which was as impressive as it was heartbreaking.

“It must be so challenging,” I said, thinking of my sister and how quickly my family had lost her. I could not imagine working on a regular basis with families dealing with illness. “How do you handle it when…?”

“When I can’t save a child?” Odessa completed my question.

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