From Venice With Love. Alison Roberts

now it had cost him. ‘When are you planning on leaving?’

      ‘Tomorrow. I’ve booked my ticket. Marco said he’d take me to the airport.’

       So soon!

      ‘Are you mad at me, Bella, for abandoning you today? I knew I should not have left you that way …’

      ‘No, Raoul. It is more than that. This has been a lovely escape, truly, but I need to get back to my life. It is not like we won’t see each other again, surely?’

      ‘Of course,’ he said, knowing there was no way he could let her return to Paris. Not yet. Garbas would need funds and plenty of them if he was to mount any kind of serious legal defence against the criminal charges already laid against him. He would have his dogs watching. He would know the moment she returned home. And then he would make up some excuse for her about why the charges had been laid in the first place, and ask if she could lend the money from her inheritance to fund his defence.

      It wasn’t going to happen.

      Which meant he could not let her go.

      ‘I’m sorry you feel you must leave,’ he said cautiously, careful not to overplay his hand. ‘But if that is what you believe you must do …’

      ‘I must go, Raoul,’ she said, though her eyes were tinged with sadness, as if she was half-disappointed that he did not argue the point. He took heart from the observation, realising that maybe all was not lost after all. ‘My stay in Venice has been wonderful, but I have to return to the real world at some stage.’

      ‘In that case,’ he said, knowing that he only had one more shot at this, ‘We must not waste a moment of tonight.’

      Raoul had suggested formal for the dress code, so she decided on the golden gown Natania had admired that first day that now seemed so long ago. They took a vaporetto to Lido, to the five-star Excelsior hotel, a palace of a hotel, no stranger to royalty, film stars and other celebrities. Gabriella tried not to think about how devastating Raoul looked in his black dinner suit but in the end she had to. It was either that or think about how easily Raoul had taken the news she was leaving tomorrow. Maybe he had been expecting it. Maybe even hoping for it.

      She wasn’t disappointed, she told herself, it was simply validation that she was doing the right thing.

      Even if the thought of leaving him hurt like hell.

      What had she expected, though? That Raoul would beg her to stay? No, that was pure fantasy. One night in a man’s bed didn’t mean for ever. Phillipa was right, she needed distance. They both did. She was doing the right thing …

      They dined in the restaurant upstairs. Sparkling champagne and the finest wines provided the lubrication, a pianist playing Vivaldi the musical score, and Venice provided the spectacular view—a view that only got better as the sun set behind the city, transforming it into a city of gold. Gabriella forgot about being disappointed because, even though she was going home tomorrow, there could be no better view in the world and no one better to share it with.

      After their meal the pianist started playing dance music and Raoul put down his wine glass. ‘Dance with me, Bella,’ he said, and there was no way she could say no. Why should she? Besides, she was flying home tomorrow; she and Raoul both knew it. There was no reason she should not enjoy tonight.

      So she let him take her in his arms and let him masterfully, superbly, spin her around the dance floor until her blood was dizzy. In his arms, she felt his strength and his darkness, and it was hard to separate either, just as it was impossible to separate reality from fantasy. Because this was how she wanted to remember him, a swirling, evocative explosion of feeling.

      So they danced, and afterwards she couldn’t remember if there had been anyone else on the dance floor with them, absorbed so totally in the man she was dancing with, and it didn’t matter because she was with him. He held her close, so close that she could barely breathe, so close that there was no distance between them, no barrier to the growing heat, the building tension as they whirled, entwined, around the dance floor.

      Would he take her to bed and make love to her again tonight? She wanted nothing more to end this night, other than a promise to meet again soon. And meanwhile every sensation, every powerful, evocative feeling, was stored away in Gabriella’s memory so that until that time she could pull them out and examine them all over again, one by precious one, in the nights when she would inevitably be alone.

      Meanwhile, she lost all sense of time. She only knew that the sun had long departed and the moon had risen and she feared the night must come to an end. But he saved her from the end just yet and suggested a walk along the beach before they went home.

      She slipped her jewelled sandals off before venturing onto the sand and he offered her his hand so she might carry her sandals and the skirt of her gown without losing balance. She slipped her hand into his. She saw his heated smile and felt his warm grip and let both seep deep into her bones. So what that she was leaving tomorrow? She was going to enjoy every moment of this last night with him.

      Just one last night …

      The beach was long and almost empty, the season late; what day trippers there had been had long since departed. The beach was theirs, a long strip of sand glowing under the light of the full moon, the air balmy and still, the dark waters laced with silver.

      ‘Did I tell you,’ he said after they’d walked hand in hand in companionable silence for some way, ‘How beautiful you look tonight?’

      Her breath hitched, her heart fluttered in her chest like a winged beast. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe you did.’

      ‘Then I am remiss. So let me tell you now.’ He stopped walking then and turned to her. ‘Tonight you are more beautiful than I have ever seen you. More beautiful than the sun setting over the most beautiful city in the world, more beautiful than the pearl of a moon hanging heavy in the sky.’

      There was so much power in his words, so much depth and feeling, that her heart almost burst from her chest to embrace him. But at the same time she knew she dared not believe him. ‘Thank you, Raoul, but I wish you wouldn’t say such things.’

      ‘Why shouldn’t I tell you what I think?’

      ‘Because I am leaving tomorrow, and you will only make it harder—for me, at least.’

      ‘Then don’t leave.’

      She laughed a little uncertainly and turned, starting to walk back the other way. ‘We’ve been through this. I have to go. I can’t stay here for ever.’

      ‘And what about what happened last night? Didn’t that mean anything to you?’

      ‘Hey, I wasn’t the one who left this morning without saying goodbye.’

      ‘I knew you were angry with me.’

      ‘No. I’m not angry.’ She thought about the talk she’d had with Phillipa earlier today, the sense her friend had made, even though the thought of leaving and missing out on more nights like she’d spent last night …But, no, space and distance were what she needed now. Head space. Physical distance. ‘Last night was amazing. But everything has happened so quickly, I need some time to work it all out. To work out what I want.’

      He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I understand.’

      They walked a little way to the sound of the sea lapping at the shore, music and laughter wafting on the breeze from a party somewhere up the coast, and she thought that was the end of the matter until he said, ‘Can I let you in on a secret?’

      She turned to him. ‘Of course.’

      He stopped her and took her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against her palm, sending a sizzle all the way to her toes. ‘A long time ago, I made a promise to myself. Last night, in your bed, I was tempted to break it.’

      She shook her head, confused, laughing just a little to try to ease the tension. ‘I’m not sure I