Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

Maya straightened in her seat. Calling Vito was out of the question. She’d said what she needed him to know the day he’d sent her away.

“Because he made his feelings very clear,” she answered. “I bared my soul and told him I’d fallen in love with him. And do you know what he said?” Maya asked despite the fact that Lexie knew full well the answer to that question. Both of her poor cousins had been made to listen to the whole sordid story almost daily since Maya had landed back at Logan.

Still, Lexie played along. “What did he say?”

“He said that I needed to get past whatever it was I was feeling for him.”

“And then what?”

Maya blinked at the query. This was a new line of questioning. Usually Lexie and Zelda simply let her vent and unload everything. Apparently, they’d decided a new approach was in order. “What do you mean?”

“Did you tell him that you didn’t want to get past it?”

“Why would I do that?” Maya asked. “What would be the point?”

Lexie shrugged and took a sip of her non-alcoholic beer. “I dunno. I do know you’ve told us that he’s afraid to take a risk, that he was stuck in the past and that’s why he let you leave.”

“And?”

Lexie reached for her hand over the table and gave it a tight squeeze. “You don’t appear to have taken any kind of risk yourself.”

* * *

“Back again, miss?” The pleasant, smiling young woman on the other side of the window handed her the entrance ticket Maya had just paid for.

Maya returned her smile. “What can I say? I really like the exhibits.”

Passing through the turnstile, she walked through the lobby of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Maya had spent every lunch hour here for the past two weeks. She’d splurged on a year-long membership soon after she’d returned to work. Maybe she was being silly, but being here made her feel closer to Vito somehow.

Never mind that he was an ocean away and had probably already forgotten she existed. Well, she would find a way to move on, as well. She had to, didn’t she? These museum visits weren’t all completely frivolous, either. Maya had made it a point to check MOFA’s website online for openings she might qualify for. She didn’t mind starting at a lower position and working her way up. Not that she planned on leaving Uncle Rex’s employ all at once. He still needed her. But she needed to make a career change and would do it gradually to eliminate any whiplash effect.

Maya hadn’t mentioned the potential job switch to anyone. Not even Grandmama.

She wouldn’t do that until she had a few more details solidified. Plus, it didn’t help that the person she most wanted to talk to about it was thousands of miles away. Oh, and she couldn’t forget that he’d made it more than clear that he didn’t really care what her plans for the future held.

Maya had been nothing more than a fling.

Shaking off thoughts of her fateful Venetian trip, she walked over to her favorite gallery, the one featuring Italian paintings. Each time she looked at the masterpieces on the wall, she noticed another detail or learned something new. Each afternoon spent here was never like the one before.

Plus, if she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could almost pretend she was back in Italy admiring the paintings on the walls of the palazzo. And that Vito was by her side.

Her imagination had to be functioning particularly well today, because she could swear she heard his voice behind her.

“I find the still life with fruit paintings particularly compelling, don’t you, cara?”

Maya didn’t dare turn around. Her wishful mind was merely playing tricks on her. She refused to be fooled. No one was behind her. In fact, she was the only person in the hall of this particular gallery.

But the voice somehow continued. “Of course, this one has the added feature of dead birds in the picture. What do you suppose Ruoppolo intended when he included them?”

Maya whirled around so fast her head spun for the briefest second. Then she almost lost her balance completely. For there in front of her, through some miracle, stood Vittorio Rameri. In the flesh. As devilishly handsome as she remembered.