Swept Away By The Venetian Millionaire. Nina Singh

do that. I’ve already taken up so much of your time and graciousness.”

      He released a long sigh, one heavy with a meaning she couldn’t guess at. Lifting the carafe, he poured steaming espresso into both their cups.

      “Trust me. At the moment, I have more than enough time.”

      * * *

      Why exactly did he care? Vito really had no business wanting to know more about the sad American beauty currently sitting in his back-room office. But he found himself genuinely curious.

      She called to him. Unlike anyone he could remember. Even Marina. A stab of guilt tore through his chest. Would he ever be able to think of her without the guilt eating away at him? Would her memory ever cease to tear him to shreds inside?

      Across from him, Maya sat sipping her espresso. The way she seemed to savor each taste made him want to capture the expression on her face. His fingers actually tingled with the desire to find his sketch book yet again. Twice so far this afternoon, when he hadn’t created anything in months. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that longing. No. Actually, he could. He could trace it back to the day his world had turned tragically upside down. And he had no one but himself to blame for any of it.

      He realized she was speaking.

      “I wonder if I should have even come.”

      “You were in no condition to go back to your hotel.”

      She bit down on her bottom lip. “I mean I shouldn’t have come to Venice. I should have stayed home. In Boston.”

      “One should never regret visiting Venice.”

      She swallowed the piece of bread she’d bitten into. “Look how much trouble I’ve been. And it’s only day two,” she said on a miserable-sounding groan.

      “Then we must assume it’s only going to get better from here.”

      She grunted a laugh. The sound held no amusement. “It couldn’t get much lower, could it?”

      “Come now. Things could have been much worse.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “How do you figure that?”

      “Well, you could have been hurt during your fall. You haven’t broken anything. By tomorrow, all of this will be forgotten. After all, I didn’t see anyone with a phone out, filming or snapping photos.”

      The blood rushed from her face as she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Are you sure? That would be all I need. To have all this posted somewhere online for everyone to witness.”

      “Including the bastardo?”

      “Yes! Even him!”

      Interesting phrasing on her part. Something tightened in his chest at the look of horror on her face. This former fiancé of hers had done quite a number on her. Despite his betrayal, she desperately cared still what he thought of her. The man clearly hadn’t deserved the affections of such a lady. “Relax,” he reassured her. “I was watching the scene as it unfolded. No one had any type of recording device.”

      Relief flooded her face. Then, to his surprise, she let out a small chuckle. “I’m guessing it was quite a sight to behold.”

      Vito bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing himself. She noticed his struggle. “It’s all right. Go ahead and laugh. I won’t take it personally.”

      He clasped his chest in mock offense. “I would never laugh at a lady in such a manner.”

      “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’m sure I looked quite ridiculous as I lost my footing and splashed into the water.”

      “On the contrary, it was quite a graceful fall. Perhaps the most elegant instance of a lady tripping I’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.”

      “Somehow I doubt it. I’m certain it wasn’t my most ladylike moment.”

      “I think being too ladylike is overrated, myself.”

      Her lips tightened. “So I’ve been told.”

      Indeed, he’d been right. The fiancé had left a mark on her psyche that would last for a long while. Vito felt a sudden intense dislike for a faceless man he wouldn’t know if they crossed paths on the nearest bridge.

      “I think you should forget everything this man ever told you,” he ventured, though he knew he was perilously close to crossing a line. After all, he’d barely met the woman. For all he knew, her ex-fiancé was the love of her life. A loss she might never get over. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on told him that wasn’t the case. Still, the tightness in his chest intensified. How silly of him.

      “I’ll have to give that a try.” Her words were utterly unconvincing. She’d be licking her wounds for some time.

      He wished he could find the right words to say, words that might reassure her, persuade her that this Matt wasn’t worth the love she’d wasted on him. Even given what little he knew of the situation, he had no doubt the man had been given a gift and had been too selfish to cherish it.

      As if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thought, coming from someone like him, of all people.

      “I wish there was a way I could be of help, cara,” he said, dropping the endearment without thinking. Her surprised intake of breath told him she was familiar with the word.

      “You’ve done more than enough.”

      “Yet here you are. Miserable and alone on a trip that was clearly meant to be a romantic getaway.”

      She slumped where she sat. “It was supposed to be so much more than that.”

      “Oh?”

      “My grandmother won this trip for me at a charity auction. To raise money for a substance abuse shelter on Martha’s Vineyard. She spent a good chunk of her retirement savings on my behalf.”

      And she felt guilty about that. His artist’s eye could almost see it manifested. The guilt practically sat like a heavy, tangible weight on her shoulders. “Sounds like a deserving and noble cause.”

      “It was. She wanted the trip to be an early wedding present. A pre-honeymoon. Because she knew how much I’ve always wanted to see the historic art of the European continent. Matt would have never agreed to come if we’d had to pay for it ourselves. He’s more a tropical island type of traveler.”

      “I see.”

      “It was such a generous gesture on her part. She’d tell me about all the marvelous trips she and my grandfather used to take. She wanted me to be able to experience something like it firsthand.”

      “Well, all I have to say is—better solo than never. Does that make sense as an American idiom?”

      The pensive look on her face gave him the answer to that question. “I know what you mean,” she assured him. “Nevertheless. I never should have attempted it alone. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m going to cut this trip short. And stay in my room in the meantime. It was foolish of me to think I could enjoy this after everything that happened back in Boston. I’ve been kidding myself.”

      Vito couldn’t help his next move. Reaching across the table, he took her trembling hand into his own. “I would be completely remiss as a Venetian if I allowed that to happen, cara. You mustn’t leave. Not just yet.”

      * * *

      “How can I let you leave this majestic city so soon? And without the opportunity to fully explore it?” Vito Rameri wanted to know.

      A jolt of awareness flashed between them as he took her hand in his. For a moment Maya couldn’t get her mouth to work. Electricity seemed to sparkle along her skin, originating at the exact spot where he touched her.

      Once she managed to get her brain to focus, Maya wanted to answer him with a few questions