Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

Speaking of which, it came as a bit of a revelation that she hadn’t thought of Matt in all this time. She should probably be missing him more, wishing that he was here with her. But he hadn’t so much as crossed her mind.

That fact spoke volumes about her choice of a potential life partner. Then again, maybe it had more to do with the man smiling at her right now outside the cathedral.

Vito Rameri was definitely the sort to help a girl forget about other men.

“Well, let’s go see if you can put your money where your mouth is, Signor Rameri.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Another American idiom.”

Maya just laughed in response.

Moments later, they entered the historic museum that was once the residence of the Doge di Venezia. The artwork was no less breathtaking here than what she’d seen at the basilica. The entire palace was one monumental masterpiece with elaborate paintings on the ceilings and walls. Her senses were in overdrive; she couldn’t decide where to look first. It was as if history had actually come to life around her.

She could sense Vito staring her way. How lucky was she to be able to visit these places with him by her side? A true native son who knew exactly how to appreciate the beauty and history that surrounded them.

Right. As if that was the only reason she was so thrilled that he was here with her.

“Well, what can you tell me about these paintings?” she asked him.

“Ah, cara. Don’t you get it? It’s about what you can tell me about them.”

Maya turned to him in question. “I don’t understand?”

“Tell me what you see.” He reached for her then, and she could swear the blood stopped pounding in her heart. He touched a gentle finger to her temple. “What do you see in here?” Then his hand dropped to her collarbone, then lower to the area of her heart. “And in here?”

* * *

“Come, let’s walk along the Grand Canal side,” Vito said close to two hours later when they were back outside.

The tour of the palace had taken longer than she would have thought. But Maya would have spent days and days in there if given the opportunity. The visual magnificence of the venue was beyond anything she’d seen before. Now, as they stood back, Maya was still in the process of absorbing all the wonders she’d observed in both the basilica and palazzo.

“There’s something else you need to see,” Vito informed her.

Moments later they were standing atop a bridge around the corner looking up at yet another bridge—the arched structure that connected the Doge’s Palace with another building—the Prigioni Nuove, the prison. Maya recognized it immediately. “The Bridge of Sighs.”

“Another stunning work of Venetian architecture,” Vito supplied.

That was one doozy of an understatement. The detail in the architecture alone was a sight to behold.

“The windows are so small. Why did they even bother with them?”

“Those poor prisoners from centuries ago had to have one last view of the city before they were doomed to incarceration.”

“Yes. But it seems terribly unfair that the last view of Venice those poor ancient prisoners saw before being sent to their cells had to be through those small holes.”

Vito rubbed his chin. “What else do you see? Look closely, beyond the basic structure.”

Maya studied the bridge, squinting to make out the details. It was magnificent. But she wasn’t sure what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. Then it struck her. Several ornamental carvings in the surface. “Are those faces?”

“Good eye.”

That wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her. Each time had sent a childish surge of pleasure through her chest straight to her toes. It had to mean something, didn’t it? If a professional artist of Vito’s caliber complimented you on your observational skills?

“They’re meant to ward off evil spirits. And to guard the bridge as well as the two buildings it connects.”

“As far as the prison goes, were the faces meant to keep evil in or keep it out?”

“That’s the question, now, isn’t it? I’m sure the poor souls passing through it on their way to their foul new residence contemplated that very thing.”