Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire
“Marina was an...interesting type of woman. So passionate about everything. Sometimes her passion was too much for one man to deal with. Even a man as capable and as willing as Vito.”
Maya was trying desperately not to take the things Lynetta was telling her to heart. It was difficult to sit there and listen to someone talk about Vito’s love and life with a different woman. A woman he clearly still pined for.
“When they first met, Vito created some beautiful sculptures. Even more noteworthy than what he’d done before. His career was already on its way. But suddenly it took off. She truly inspired him.”
So, he’d lost his muse as well as his wife. Was it any wonder he was having trouble moving on? Not that it was any kind of competition, especially considering the poor woman had passed in such a tragic manner. But if it were, how could Maya possibly compete with someone who’d shared Vito’s bed and provided him with creative impetus?
Lynetta continued. “But Vito is a true creative. He was constantly growing. Constantly expanding the scope of his work. Eventually, Marina became less of a factor in his creations. That’s when the trouble began.”
“Trouble?”
It hadn’t occurred to Maya that Vito and his wife had been anything less than blissfully happy. Why else would he be so hard on himself about losing her? She didn’t know the details and couldn’t bring herself to ask him. But she’d assumed that he was plagued with guilt about not being able to protect the woman he loved.
“He never spoke to us about any of it. He would never have betrayed her privacy that way.” Lynetta stopped her rocking. “But we witnessed enough of the arguments firsthand. And the way she lashed out after each one.”
“She...lashed out?”
“Oh, yes. In phenomenally dramatic fashion. Sometimes in public. Several times in front of Vito’s family and friends.”
Maya didn’t want to think about what that would have done to a man like Vito. He seemed so private, so proud. Having witnesses to the failings of his marriage must have been a terribly difficult burden. No one should be subjected to such a public display of their relationship troubles.
Maya shuddered at the prospect. She dreaded the moment when she had to finally confide to her family about her breakup with Matt. Bad enough that she would have to tell them about it. She didn’t want to think about how it would feel to have had them witness it firsthand.
“Nothing Vito did was enough,” Lynetta went on. “Marina wanted his complete attention. When she didn’t get it...”
Lynetta didn’t finish her sentence. Suddenly, she performed the sign of the cross and closed her eyes tightly. Maya could hear the quick prayer she uttered in Italian.
“Forgive me for speaking ill of the deceased,” Lynetta said, opening her eyes again. “I just felt you should know the basic facts about Vito’s past. It’s only fair to you, given how close you and Vito have become in such a short time.”
The questions rambled through Maya’s brain. What had led to Marina’s fatal accident? Why exactly did Vito think he was directly to blame for it?
Would he ever trust her enough to confide in her about any of it?
Lynetta stood then, lifted the tray of half-eaten food and walked to the front door. “I should go check on the boys. Excuse me.”
But Maya had so many other questions; Lynetta couldn’t just leave after all she’d revealed. “Lynetta, wait. Please, I’d just like to know—”
But the other woman didn’t let her finish. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I’ve said more than enough. The rest he will have to tell you himself.”
* * *
“There you are.”
Maya wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there after Lynetta left. When Vito found her, she was still deep in thought and dusk had settled across the horizon.
“I was just admiring the view.”
“If you think that view is special, wait until you see what’s in store next.” He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
He’d already taken her wrist and pulled her up. They walked to the side of the house and down the porch steps. Parked around the corner were three golf carts.