Swept Away By The Venetian Millionaire. Nina Singh

mishap with the gondola. Sure. Like that kind of reasoning would pass muster with Uncle Rex if he ever got word of any of this.

      Uncle Rex. She hadn’t technically lied to him and the rest of her family. She’d just bought herself some time, inadvertently doing the same for Matt. She’d concocted a vague tale about Matt running into some kind of emergency at work that would delay his travel and that he would join her in Europe as soon as he could. Just a small fib in order to postpone the nastiness that was certain to follow once she announced the demise of her engagement to the man her family considered to be the catch of the decade. Little did they know.

      Little had she known.

      Sudden tears stung the back of her eyes, exacerbating the pounding pain in her head. Fire burned behind her throat. All her earthly possessions for a drop of water.

      The universe answered her prayers.

      “May I come in?” she heard a masculine voice ask from the doorway. “I heard rustling. Figured you must be awake? Sì?”

      “That might be one word to describe it.”

      Her rescuer walked in carrying a tray of assorted plates and dishes as well as a steaming carafe. But the only thing Maya could focus on was the glass pitcher of icy water with wedges of lemon floating on top.

      “How do you feel?” he asked as he set his load down on the marble table between them.

      How could she possibly answer that? So many apt descriptions came to mind. Embarrassed. Ill. Thirsty. Out of her element.

      And to dig deeper, she was utterly confused as to what her future held now. A boring dead-end job. Her most significant relationship in complete shambles. Nothing to look forward to. She forced the thoughts away and focused her eyes on the man standing before her.

      Maya had to suck in a breath. Now that her gaze had cleared, she realized her memory of their initial encounter had not done the man justice. He was breathtakingly handsome. Tall and dark, with broad shoulders and richly tanned skin. He wore dark pleated dress pants with a pressed collared shirt the color of the Cape sky at dawn. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a print ad for expensive men’s cologne.

      She pulled on the collar of her smock. Dear heavens, in contrast to this stellar specimen of a man, she must look like a walking demolition site.

      Without waiting for her answer, he lifted the jug of water and began pouring into a clear glass with yet another lemon wedge at the bottom. So the man had mind-reading skills in addition to killer good looks. Either that or she looked as parched as she felt.

      She took the water gratefully with a shaky hand as she spoke. “I feel like I might have drunk too much on an empty stomach and then fallen into a river in front of a crowd of strangers.”

      He gave a playful shrug as she took a massive swallow of water. The ice-cold liquid felt heavenly as it poured over her thick tongue and down her dry throat.

      “Hey, these things happen,” he said, giving her a playful wink.

      Maya wouldn’t have thought she had it in her to laugh.

      Vito Rameri. See, she couldn’t have been too far out of it earlier by the canal if she remembered his name. Though it would be hard to forget the sole person who’d helped her out of a situation like that. An artist and a gentleman. Even the gondolier had taken off at the first opportunity. Vito was the only one who’d stayed to make sure she was okay. Which begged the question: Had she even so much as thanked him yet?

      She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to thank you, Signor Rameri.”

      He cut her off before she could continue. “Please. Call me Vito. Signor Rameri is my father.”

      “Okay. Vito, then. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.” She studied her fingers. “I don’t know how to pay back your kindness. I vow to find a way.”

      He waved a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. Anyone would have done the same. We Venetians take care of the visitors to our city.”

      “Well, you shouldn’t have had to take care of this tourist. Please believe me when I say that my behavior today was quite uncharacteristic. This isn’t how I normally behave. I’m not even much of a drinker.”

      “Clearly.”

      Between his accent and the absurdity of this conversation, Maya couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. If so, he had every right.

      “I didn’t think I’d had that much. Only I hadn’t eaten anything since arriving yesterday and I guess I don’t know my tolerance too well.” Or lack thereof.

      “Alcohol on an empty stomach can certainly catch up with someone who’s not used to it.”

      She nodded. “Exactly. And I should have known better. It’s just that I’m dealing with an unexpected...disappointment.”

      “Ah, right. The bastardo.”

      She’d forgotten about that tidbit in their conversation. “Yes, that would be Matt. My fia—” she caught herself. “My former fiancé. As of about three days ago.” Though it seemed like she’d been dealing with the loss and betrayal for far longer.

      Maya didn’t think she could feel any lower. Between having to explain herself to this handsome Italian and the feeling of complete and utter rejection, her loser status was quite confirmed. And did the Italian have to be quite so good-looking? Why couldn’t she have been rescued by a balding, older, grandfatherly type? Would that have been too much to ask? Instead, her savior had had to come in the form of a dark and charming Adonis clad in Armani.

      Yet another way she’d failed at life. Another indication that she didn’t fit in with the accomplished, overachieving family she’d been taken in by after losing her parents. Both her cousins had ideal careers and relationships. Her aunt was a revered professor at one of Boston’s top universities. Her uncle a respected and successful business owner. And here she was, unable to enjoy a dream trip she couldn’t have even afforded on her own without the assistance of her grandmother.

      “Why don’t you tell me about it? While you eat. You mentioned you haven’t eaten since yesterday. It’s just criminal to go without nourishment that long in a city with such gourmet cuisine.”

      Her stomach growled in response to his words. She studied the food-laden tray he’d set down earlier. An elaborate antipasto plate with olives, several varieties of cheese and small glass bowls of various dipping oils. A crusty loaf of Italian bread looked like it had just been pulled out of the oven. Maya’s mouth watered despite herself. And bless the man, she could smell the rich aroma of strong Italian espresso wafting from the silver pitcher. In spite of the queasy roiling in her stomach, she really was quite famished.

      “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

      “No trouble. I just stepped into the trattoria next door. I do it all the time.” He motioned to the food. “Go on. Eat. The bread won’t stay warm much longer.”

      Maya ducked her head. As much as she wanted to indulge in the mouthwatering array of goodies before her, she felt like a helpless child who had to be taken care of. It was enough that he’d pulled her out of the water then given her a safe place to sober up. He certainly didn’t need to be waiting on her, as well.

      Not that the child comparison wasn’t an adequate description. What she ought to do was to find her clothes, determine exactly where she was and make her way back to her hotel room overlooking the piazza. Then she should sit there and contemplate all the ways her life had gone so horribly astray.

      Still, Vito had been so kind to get a meal set up for her. It would be rude to turn it down. “Only if you’ll join me.”

      “I never turn down an offer to share a meal with a beautiful woman.”

      Wow. He really was a charmer.

      “It will give us a chance to talk,” Vito