Page 90 of The Thief

I walk through these halls every single day, but tonight, the space has been transformed into something intimate, sensuous, and magical.

We walk into the grand ballroom arm in arm. Heads turn at our entrance, and whispers fill the air. People stare openly. Everyone here knows who Antonio is, and I can feel the weight of their gazes on me, wondering who I am and how I managed to land Venice’s most eligible bachelor. The men are curious and leering, and the women’s gazes stab me with envy.

“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath. “I really don’t like being the center of attention.”

“And you wonder why I don’t attend these things,” Antonio replies. He lifts his hand, and a waiter materializes in front of us bearing a tray with flutes of prosecco. Antonio hands me a glass with a grin. “Drink up, cara mia. You never know what the evening has in store for us. The last time I was here, a very trendy caterer served us droplets of meat jelly topped with vegetable foam. Fifteen courses, and I was still hungry at the end.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish.” He rests his hand on my lower back, a subtle gesture of claiming that sends a thrill through me. We wind through the crowds, making our way to our table.

We’re almost there when Felix Mayer intercepts us. “Lucia,” he says, kissing my cheeks as if we’re long-lost friends. “It’s so good to see you.” He sticks his hand out to Antonio. “Mr. Moretti, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dr. Felix Mayer, the assistant curator in charge of acquisitions here at the Palazzo Ducale.”

Antonio’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks at Felix’s outstretched hand for a fraction of a second too long, then finally shakes it. “Lucia’s told me a lot about you.”

Felix is too tone-deaf to hear the warning in that sentence. “Only good things, I hope.” He doesn’t wait for Antonio to respond before barreling on. “I’m a great admirer of yours, Mr. Moretti. I’ve been following your acquisitions for a long time, and it’s rumored that you’re planning to set up a museum. If you’re ever looking for someone to work with you?—”

“I’ll ask Lucia,” Antonio interrupts. “Obviously.” He puts his arm around my waist and nods curtly to Felix. “Please excuse us.”

Call me petty, but I can’t help snickering once my least favorite coworker is out of earshot. “That was delightful,” I giggle. “Did you see his face when you rebuffed him? I shouldn’t get such joy out of it, but he’s such a jerk. What was that about, by the way? Are you planning to set up a museum?”

“I haven’t given it a lot of thought,” he replies. “But I do own a lot of art, most of it even lawfully acquired. People tend to assume I want to set up a private museum.”

“Do you?”

“Only if you’ll help me. Are you interested in being the director?”

My mouth falls open. “Is this a job offer?”

“If you want it to be.” His voice lowers and turns serious. “Only if it didn’t interfere with us. I can hire a dozen people for my museum, but. . .”

“But?” I forget to breathe.

He takes a deep breath, and his expression is open and vulnerable. “Lucia, I love you. There’s only one person I want at my side, and that’s you.”

“Oh,” I say faintly.

He’s looking at me, waiting for me to respond, and I don’t know what to say. After spending years protecting myself from feeling anything at all, Antonio’s become so important to me in a few short weeks that I can’t contemplate life without him.

Every moment we spend together is special. The heated debates over dinner, the evenings spent arguing about what we’ll watch on TV, our banter about which one of us is the better thief—I love it all. I didn’t realize how big the void inside me was until Antonio filled it.

And when I realize that it’s finally time to acknowledge that the training wheels have been off for a while. There’s no one running behind me, holding me up. I’m doing this on my own, and I’m not afraid.

In the end, it’s simple. “I love you too,” I tell him, squeezing his arm tight and standing on tiptoe to kiss him, uncaring who’s watching.

For a brief moment, there’s shock in his eyes. He exhales as if he wasn’t sure what my response was going to be until I said it, and then he smiles at me. “Is that a yes on the museum?”

I should tell him about the Uffizi, but in the moment, I don’t even remember it. “I’ll think about it,” I reply, winking at him. “It all depends on the salary.”

He chuckles. “We should probably take our seats,” he says. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about me fucking you senseless?”

He gives me a hopeful look, and goosebumps break out on my skin. I don’t want to be here either, especially now. This moment calls for intimacy, not a glittery gala with a thousand prying eyes watching our every move.

“I want to,” I murmur. “But I promised Rosa.” I sigh heavily. “Let’s get through it as quickly as possible.”

We take our seats at the table. A string quartet plays Vivaldi while we eat a five-course meal. The food isn’t as bad as Antonio predicted, but it’s also not particularly filling. The wine, on the other hand, is excellent. I’m quite tipsy by the time I’m done. “Let’s get pizza when this is over,” I whisper to Antonio under cover of the music.

He laughs at me.

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