Page 34 of The Thief

“It’s a quiet neighborhood,” I prevaricate. “Not too many tourists bother with it. It gives me the privacy I need.”

I sidestepped answering her question, but she doesn’t press me. “I shouldn’t have compared my life with yours,” she says instead. “It was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.”

Hundreds of people have begged for my forgiveness in the last ten years. Stefano apologized to me just a few hours ago. Lucia’s apology feels different. She sees me as a person and recognizes that I have feelings, and she regrets hurting them.

I’m not used to that. I am the king of Venice, and kings are not supposed to bleed when cut.

“And here we are,” she adds. We come to a stop in front of a set of stairs, and Lucia gestures to a gallery on the right. “The Illuminated Manuscripts.”

I spend the next hour in the gallery. Lucia is an excellent guide. She warns me as we enter the exhibit that this isn’t her area of expertise, but it soon becomes obvious that she’s selling herself short. She’s extremely well-versed in Venetian art history, and she’s able to tell me stories about the manuscripts on display, making what could be a dry subject come alive with her enthusiasm.

I lose track of time in her company.

“Have lunch with me,” I say when we’re done.

She gives me a strange look. “And if I say no? What happens if I turn down your invitation?”

“I wasn’t asking, Lucia. Lunch is part of the price you pay for going against my rules.”

She glares at me. “You don’t make the rules, Antonio.”

“Actually, cara mia, you’ll find that in Venice, I do.”

She opens her mouth to respond with something cutting and then closes it. “What are you playing at, Antonio?” she asks instead. “Why are you pretending you’re interested in me?”

Her words stop me in my tracks. “Why do you think I’m pretending?”

“Because I’ve seen the women you date. Supermodels, world-famous actresses, heiresses to massive fortunes. Last month, you were photographed attending a party withTatiana Cordova,for heaven’s sake. I don’t belong in that world.”

I don’t know if you belong in that world, Lucia. But you belong in mine.

I hesitate. I want to tell Lucia that the parties, the glamor and the glitz don’t matter, at least not to me. I want to tell her that she’s wrong when she thinks she doesn’t belong and that she’s far more real than any heiress or supermodel she’s seen me with.

“I’m not pretending to be interested in you,” I say instead. “Now, let’s go eat lunch.”

She gives me a long look. “And if I don’t cooperate, you’ll complain to Signora Sabatino and get me fired?”

I grin. “You make my life much more challenging, little thief. Why would I have you fired? I’m much more likely to give the Palazzo money to extend your contract.”

She gives me another glare and then shrugs her shoulders. “Very well,” she says. “Let’s eat lunch. But that’s all it is. I don’t care if you gave the museum fifteen million euros or fifteen billion—I’m not sleeping with you.”

I rest my hand on the small of her back and steer her toward the exit. “You keep saying that,” I say mildly. “I’ll try not to take it personally. Anywhere you’d like to eat?”

She thinks about my question for a minute, and then a gleeful smile crosses her face. “Your house,” she says. “I didn’t get a good feel for your security on Saturday. This time, I’ll pay better attention.”

“Don’t believe in giving up, do you?”

“You told me yourself, Antonio. I make your life interesting.”

I have to laugh. We walk out to the piazza, and I lead her to the nearest dock, where Goran is waiting with my boat. As I help her in, I’m struck by something. I can’t remember the last time I invited a woman I’m interested in to my house, but this is the second time this week that I’m bringing Lucia home.

18

LUCIA

I’m about to have lunch with Antonio Moretti, and even though he has more or less blackmailed me into eating with him, I’m actually looking forward to it.

I must be insane.

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