Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

She took it with zero hesitation, her touch sending warmth up to his shoulder blades and down along his back. He was completely unprepared for such a reaction to a simple touch on his arm.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

It was one thing to notice her physical qualities and want to capture them, given the artist in him. But this physical reaction was something else altogether.

Vito had to wonder exactly what he might have just gotten himself into.

* * *

It was ridiculous to be this excited. Maya made a point of reassuring herself that her overblown reaction to having Vito join her this afternoon was born of pure relief. After all, who would want to go sightseeing in one of the most beautiful destinations Europe had to offer all by herself? She certainly hadn’t been looking forward to doing so. Thanks to Vito, her afternoon just became much more interesting.

“You are to start at the piazza? Correct?” Vito asked her.

“Yes, I’m to meet my tour guide there. Though I have a few moments to spare.” She glanced at her sensible watch. She had a much more extravagant one at home, with a gold band and jewel-encrusted face. But she’d never wear that one again. It had been a birthday gift from Matt. She gave herself a mental kick. She refused to think about him today. Or for the remainder of this trip, for that matter.

“Excellent. That will give us some time to enjoy the square.”

A crowd was already gathered in the piazza when they reached St. Mark’s. The line outside the basilica snaked back and forth. Dozens of gondolas and various other watercrafts dotted the canal ways.

“This is the busiest I’ve seen it since I got here,” Maya commented.

“Pretty common for a Friday afternoon. Good thing you booked a tour,” Vito remarked. “It’s the only way to bypass the lines.”

“I have my grandmother to thank. This really was the ideal wedding gift.” Too bad the wedding in question would never happen.

“Your grandmother must think very highly of you.”

Maya couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips. “She says I’m her favorite. Though I’m not sure how true that is. I think she simply feels a particular kinship with me.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because we both lost so much when my parents passed. She lost a cherished son. My father. And I lost my entire family.”

“You’re an only child?”

She nodded. “Yes. Though I grew up with two cousins. They’re more like sisters, really. My aunt and uncle took me in after the accident. They raised me. I was fortunate that they stepped up.”

“But you never stopped missing your parents.”

A lump of sorrow lodged in her throat. She had to swallow past it before she could answer. “No. I think about them every day. And how much I miss them.”

Vito stopped walking as he turned to face her. “Grief is a rather unforgiving monster,” he replied. His voice had taken on a distant, pensive tone. His eyes darkened with emotion. And pain. Maya had no doubt he was speaking from firsthand experience.

She and Vito walked farther into the center of the square. A toddler squealed by them, laughing as he chased a pigeon then ran after another. His mother followed close behind with a genuine yet exasperated laugh of her own. The child nearly careened into a young, well-dressed couple sharing a chocolate gelato cone.

“You’ve lost someone, haven’t you, Vito?”

He seemed focused on a point off in the distance. “I hope you don’t mind my asking,” she added when he didn’t answer right away.

He gave a shake of his head before turning his gaze back to her. “No, it’s all right. I’m just not used to being asked about it. This is a rather small city. Everyone already knows the story. It doesn’t come up often.”

Maya got the distinct impression that was most likely because he clearly discouraged it. Vito didn’t seem like the type of man who took comfort from confiding in others. No, he appeared much too private for that. Too stoic. But something compelled her to press on. “Do you want to tell me?”

Pain and anguish were etched in his face.

“My wife. I lost my wife about three years ago.”

The words confirmed what she’d read online. He was a widower. Vito Rameri had lost the woman he loved. And, by the looks of him as he spoke, he still grieved for her deeply.