Chapter 19
Tourists in costumes and masks crowded Campo Polo. Everyone looked like they were headed to a Royal Court, a Faerie Ball, or a sex party.
I understood why tourists flocked to Venice to experience the extraordinary. Our city was a marvel, a series of interconnected islands linked together by bridges and best explored on foot or by gondola.
People came here to get lost in our magical city and to find their authentic selves. They donned masks and costumes and joined in a magical performance. There was no other place like it in the world.
As I soaked in the beauty of people painting their bodies, wearing crowns, and donning wings, I imagined, that I, too, was molting and changing. My dreams were not dying; they were evolving into something else.
Dylan and I blended in with the crowds as we walked hand-in-hand across the square, our faces hidden behind golden masks. With only days before the ball at Doge”s Palace, the beautiful chaos of Carnival would exist twenty-four hours a day until the festival ended.
I had sent Leo a text that I was leaving the club, so he didn’t think I was abducted. I was glad Odessa and Shea were with him tonight.
The crowds laughed and danced in the square and spilled into the courtyard and lobby of the Mia Sorella. Dylan and I walked through the front doors, past the front desk, up the marble staircase, and reached the door to the Lover’s Suite.
Dylan opened the door. Only days had passed since our first night together in this room, but it felt like months. We both told lies the night we met. He said his name was James. I pretended to know nothing of the hotel.
That night, Dylan touched my shoulder, and gently turned me around, untying the ribbon of my mask. “I want to see you,” he said. Brushing my hair aside, he kissed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
He walked across the room and opened the heavy curtain, leaving the thin, privacy curtains closed. He switched off the lights, and the room filled with moonlight.
His mask still on, he stood across from me in front of the window. He leaned down, slipped off his shoes and socks, and dropped his suit jacket to the ground.
“Your turn,” he said, giving me a mischievous grin.
Desire flushed through my whole body. My lips parted. I nodded and pulled my sweater over my head, taking time to twirl it as if performing a slow strip tease. I undid my bra, tossed it toward him, and ran my fingers over my hardening nipples.
Dylan licked his lips and unbuttoned his black shirt to expose his abs and a trail of hair that started at his belly and ran into his black shorts.
He gave me a crooked smile and slid his hand into his briefs pulling out his rock-hard penis. Fisting it, he stroked himself.
“Your turn, clever Bella,” he said, his voice gravely.
I bit my lip, and inhaled. The excitement of this slow reveal made it hard for me to fully breathe. I reached behind my waist, unzipped my boots, and slipped them off. I pulled off my leather pants and stood in my panties, my fuck-me boots on the floor beside me.
He kept fisting himself as he pulled off his briefs. I dropped my panties. The electric charge between us grew as every piece of clothing fell to the floor. We stood naked in the moonlight.
With his mask still on, I sensed that the man standing before me wasn’t entirely Dylan or Strand. He was the two of them intertwined. His hand on his cock, I wanted him to possess me.
I slid my fingers across my sex, feeling the wetness between my folds. The touch of my own hand made me shiver.
“I am going to taste you,” he said, his gaze magnetic. I nodded, my hands on my pussy.
The anticipation of his touch made it hard to speak. “I will taste you and fuck you until we have nothing left to give each other. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I said, my hips aching to move toward him. My sex pulsed with my every heartbeat. This man ignited fires in my body that only he could quench.
He released his erect penis and walked toward me. His arm slid around my lower back the heat of his erection pressing against me.
His breath against my throat, he ran a stubbled cheek over my skin and lifted me in the air, carrying me to the window sill. He scooted a pillow beneath me and lowered me to the ledge.
His eyes burned. He placed his palms on my knees pulled them apart with an animalistic exhale.
I cried out in pleasure in surprise.
He dropped to his knees before me, breathing between my legs. He lunged forward and buried his mouth in my pussy. I writhed and moaned as he licked and sucked on my clit before sliding his fingers deep inside me.
He devoured me with hooded eyes. Seeing how much he loved eating me out turned me on fast and hard. My body tensed as my climax accelerated. He teased me, changing the speed and pressure of his tongue and fingers. My whole body tingled with the rush of moving closer to the edge of my release.
“Please, baby, please,” I whimpered. My hands in his hair, I rocked my hips against his lips as my cunt danced with his tongue.
Thrust after thrust, he held me suspended between worlds, my body rooted on this planet, my clit sucked into the stars.
“Now,” he said, his voice humming against my skin. His fingers dove inside me deep and pivoted pressing against my G spot. I rode his fingers and mouth hard as he lifted me into the stars by my clit until I fell.
“Dylan. Oh, God.” I shattered around him, spinning to earth as I fell through space.
He held me as I quivered and shook with aftershocks. My breathing slowed and he kissed my neck, my cheeks, my lips. I tasted the flavor of my pleasure in his kiss.
“My clever Bella,” he murmured, gently lifting me off the window sill.
His arms were strong, his kisses soft and tender. My body relaxed and glowed from my orgasm. He raised the covers of the bed and slid me beneath the sheets. Moving to the other side, he climbed into bed next to me, slipped his arm under my head, and pulled me close.
I breathed in and out, still high from his touch. He had taken me to another universe, and I wondered if we built a new one together every time we made love.
“That was impossibly beautiful,” I said, smiling and running my fingertips across his chest. He leaned down and kissed my temple. He rolled to his side and his hard cock pressed against my thigh.
“You’re hard and ready,” I giggled, reaching down to hold him.
“Yes, I am,” he said, kissing me.
“Take me.” I rolled toward him and pressed my pussy against his erection. I placed a hand on his face. His warm stubbled cheek scratched my palm. His brown eyes looked bright under his mask. “Without your mask, please.”
He nodded and untied the gold mask, setting it beside the bed. Looking into his deep brown eyes was intimate and raw. I touched his face. He put his hand over mine and moved it to his lips, kissing the palm of my hand.
His eyes crinkled with a smile before planting a tender kiss on my waiting lips. My heart surged with a feeling of connection, and my body flared with desire. I pushed my pussy up against his erection, gasping at the sensation. “Please, I’m ready.”
He reached onto the nightstand, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. I shifted beside him and spread my legs wide. He climbed on top of me, his arms on either side of my body.
“Now,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Take me now.”
He pressed his hard cock against my opening. I closed my eyes, my head rolling back as he slowly slid inside me inch by inch. When he was fully inside me, he cupped my face with one of his hands. “Open your eyes, Bella,” he said, his voice husky.
I did and stared into his deep brown eyes. Perfectly still, I held his gaze, the heat of our bodies completing each other. The pulse of our heartbeats aligned. Our breath slowed; we moved in unison as if our bodies rode the same ocean waves.
In flow, with every thrust, pleasure swelled between us. He pushed his hard cock in deep. The strong and steady sensation of his entry and exit coaxed me awake from my blissful orgasmic coma.
Sweat glistened on his chest, our skin sticking as we pressed against each other and pulled apart time and again. He lowered his body closer to mine, my breasts pressed against him. Our hips rocking and back and forth moving us closer to the crest of our release.
He pushed in with more force, increasing the gorgeous pressure against my clit every time. I had never come like this before. It was slow and gentle. It was sensual. Stroke by stroke, energy for my orgasm began to spiral and build inside me.
“That’s it. That’s it,” he murmured. He swirled his hips and I was undone in a surge.
I cried out. My pussy clenched his cock, and I broke all around him, crashing in a torrent and calling his name. His cock pumped and throbbed inside me as he lost control and came in time with me.
Together we rode wave after wave, cresting and falling together again and again. His brown eyes held mine as the energy between us rippled and calmed.
“Dylan.” I sighed, touching his face. Tears filled my eyes as a feeling of wholeness enveloped me. I was vulnerable, and yet safe. Dylan looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the world and kissed me. His lips warm against mine, we held our kiss until our breathing slowed.
“I’ve never felt this with anyone,” I murmured, our lips still touching.
“I know, baby,” he said. “I know.”
He pulled out of me and slipped his arm under my head. Pulling me close, he kissed my temple. My head nestled against his chest, his arms around me, I closed my eyes and slept.
I awokewith Dylan asleep beside me. A buzzing light caught my attention. It was my phone across the room on the floor. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around my naked body.
I picked up my phone. I had two messages from Roberto, which I ignored. I had three texts from Leo, the first at one o’clock in the morning.
You home?
Text me so I know you are ok
WTF Bella
Shit. I sat down, wrapping the blanket around me. I had told Leo I was leaving, but normally I texted when I was home. I’d forgotten to close the loop and he was worried.
Sorry, I am ok. I ran into Dylan. I’m with him.
Three dots. I held my breath waiting for his reply.
Good for you, He is hot AF.
Do everything I would do
I smiled at Leo’s unconditional support. Dylan stirred in the bed. He sat up, bleary eyed, his hair falling across his forehead. “You’re up?”
“It’s Leo,” I said, standing. “I forgot to text him that I made it home.”
“Come back to bed,” he said, holding the covers open for me.
It was the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to me. I dropped my blanket and slipped naked between the sheets. He put his arms around me, his warm body spooning mine.
“Sorry I woke you up,” I said.
His lips against my neck, he kissed me. “I don’t mind.” His arms softly caressed my elbows. I had never felt this content in any man’s arms. I felt safe enough to ask questions.
“Dylan, why did you stop singing?” I said.
His hands stopped moving for a moment, and then he resumed.
“Only if you want to tell me,” I said. “I’d like to know. You told me who you were and you didn’t need to do that.”
He breathed and slid his arms out from underneath me. I rolled over so I could face him. He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling.
“Are you shutting me out?” I asked, my heart racing.
“No,” he said, still looking overhead. “I’m not shutting you out.”
A moment passed, and another.
“Then why aren’t you talking?”
He inhaled and propped himself up on one elbow. He moved a finger up and down the curve of my body, as if tracing an invisible line from my hips to my breasts. It gave me shivers.
“I started performing as Strand on a dare from a woman,” he said, his hand moving in a steady rhythm, his eyes not meeting mine.
“My brother and I were both at university in Dublin. James always knew he wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. He did all the internships, all the right things. My grades were shit. I couldn’t focus on school. All I heard in class was music.
“When I slept, when I studied, melodies, notes, words. Music consumed me, and she was the only person who understood. The woman, her name was Rebecca. Bex, for short.”
He said her name as if the word carried a physical weight. My stomach twisted as he spoke her name.
“You loved her,” I said softly. It was not a question.
“Yes,” he said, his finger still moving from my hips to my breast and back again. “She knew that my family would never allow me to pursue being a musician. It was just impossible for them to understand or allow.”
“But you are so good,” I said. “You’re famous.”
“That was later,” he said. “That was after Bex dared me to wear a mask. It was her idea. The mask, the name. She helped launch my career. The first performance was in Dublin.
Next, we went to London and she booked me in in some underground clubs. We traveled to Los Angeles. We went to New York City. You see, I needed someone to know who I was, at least at the start. It took me a while before I figured out how to manage things on my own.”
“You mean nobody has known who you are?”
“I have gotten very good at hiding. Eccentric musicians can insist on the most complicated riders. Private dressing room, no cameras, no lights backstage, no crew contact.”
He smiled as if recalling an inside joke. “I did eventually come out to my parents.”
I laughed. “Really?”
“Really. It isn’t that much different,” he said. “I had an identity that nobody knew about. A secret life that I couldn’t share. They had just assumed I was a fuck-up, managing to underachieve and in danger of draining my trust fund.”
He laughed and sighed together, as if remembering the past was painful and funny at the same time.
“What happened to Rebecca, to Bex?” I said.
“What happened to Bex?” he repeated, exhaling slowly. “She loved me and I loved her until one day, I didn’t love her quite as much as before. We were young, everything was new and exciting and things were changing for me so fast, but not for her.
“I broke things off. I thought it was best for us both. I kept performing, and she would call me. I didn’t need her in the same way anymore, so she would leave messages. She’d write letters. She’d send flowers. She’d show up at shows and at my door late at night.”
“She stalked you,” I said.
“Yes. She wasn’t well. At some point, she convinced herself that Strand was real. She didn’t love me anymore. She was in love with Strand. I thought she was being dramatic, I didn’t understand how truly sick she was.” He shook his head.
“This sounds awful, Dylan.”
He smiled, but his expression held pain. “It was, mostly for her. I thought she was just trying to guilt me into going back to her. If it weren’t for her, Strand would never exist. I never would have played for people who loved my music, who loved that part of me.”
“So, you did love playing,” I said, that question finally answered. “And yet you stopped.”
“It was all I ever wanted,” he said. “Or at least, that is what I thought.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin.
“What happened to her?” I whispered. I wanted to know him and understand his pain.
“Strand played his final show in Central Park. It was a cold, February night. There were two acts before Strand went on. It was a festival of rebirth. We played to mark the end of one season and the beginning of the next. Sound familiar?”
“It was your Carnival,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes. Strand played, and sometime during the show, Bex convinced one of the roadies to let her backstage. After the final curtain call, Strand walked -- I – walked backstage.
I opened my dressing room door. And Bex was there lying on the couch. I thought she was asleep for a moment, and I shouted at her to get out. She didn’t answer. She didn’t move. There were bottles of pills on the ground next to her. She was dead.”
I inhaled sharply and gripped his arm. “Dylan, I’m so sorry.”
“She killed herself because she loved Strand, and Strand no longer loved her back. She killed herself because I was a self-absorbed piece of shit, and I didn’t think she was serious.
“I didn’t listen when she threatened to hurt herself. She told me she was going to do this and I let it happen. I could have gotten her help. I should have helped her.
“I couldn’t sing anymore. It was done. Bex died, and so did the music inside me. My father passed away the same year. Strand retired and the family took me back into the fold.”
I reached over and pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I didn’t want any distance between us. “I’m so sorry, Dylan.”
“Bella.” He gently pushed me away and sat up. He leaned up against the pillows and the headboard behind us. “I need to tell you more, Bella. You need to know the rest. All of it.”
“What do you mean, the rest?”
He looked down at me, a sad, crooked, smile crossing his face. “The night I met you was the sixth anniversary of Strand’s final concert, the day that Bex died.
The month of February is not easy for me. James insisted I come with him on this trip, because he worries what I will do when left alone.”
“Would you ever?” My voice trailed off.
“Hurt myself, no,” he said. “I’m too fucking self-absorbed to do that. In February, I regret everything. My music consumed me and a woman died as a result. I live on, without consequence.”
“But you are dealing with the consequences,” I said. “Clearly, it impacted you.”
“When Bex died, my family made the whole messy situation go away.”
“How?”
“The way people with money make everything disappear. They moved her body. We paid people. Her family was given another story about what happened.
They believe she was depressed and died alone in her apartment. I retired, and we’ve never spoken of it again. Bex should not have died. Strand became an obsession for so many people, not just her. When I realized what my music had done to her, it was over for me.”
“What were you supposed to do?”
“Have the courage to show my face? Have the courage to own my mistakes?” he said. “If I had really listened to her, I could have gotten her the help she needed.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” I said.
“Yes, I can. Bella, my family, this deal, you need to know who you are dealing with.”
“You mean, James?” I laughed. “He is an asshole. We’ve established that.”
“Yes, he is. But I mean all my family, including me.” He looked right at me. “James, Roberto, and I attended the same boarding school in Germany. We all knew each other growing up.”
I sat up, my heart skipping beats. I clutched the sheets to my chest.
“James and Roberto were good friends,” Dylan said. “They stayed in touch, and about a year ago, Roberto reached out about partnering with James on a take-over of Uzano Properties.”
“A take-over?”
“Roberto and James made a deal. Roberto’s job was to convince your father to go forward with the acquisition, no matter what, and Roberto was going to end up as a majority shareholder and force your whole family out. He said it would right a wrong.”
“That is what he said to me on the altar,” I said, remembering how confused I had been by his words that day. “We were still engaged a year ago. Why would Roberto want to do this to my family? We were going to run the business together.”
“Roberto used to talk about your sister, Sara, when we were in school together. He hated your father, Bella. He said he was a man without honor.”
“Why would he say that about my father?” I froze.
“I don’t know.”
“And about Sara, how did he talk about her?” My heart pounded.
“I always thought they were more than friends,” Dylan said.
“That’s not possible,” I said. “Roberto was always away at school. He barely knew Sara. When he came back to Venice, he pursued me. It was years after she died.
“And now you expect me to believe that Roberto hates my father, but don’t worry, the one I really need to worry about is your brother, James.”
I got out of bed. Pulling a blanket off the ground, I wrapped it around my shoulders as I paced. “I heard Roberto and James arguing. James said something about a new deal. Roberto did not like it.”
“My brother has a habit of changing his mind,” Dylan said, shaking his head.
“He lies?”
“He seizes opportunity,” Dylan said. “He values the deal over anyone and everyone else.”
“You mean, he lies.”
“James never intended to appoint Roberto CEO post-acquisition,” Dylan said. “My brother plans to dismantle your family’s company and sell it off, piece-by-piece. He always did.”
His words felt like a punch in the gut. “And you knew this? You knew it the night we met? And you’ve known it every time we’ve been together since?” I spun around to look at him.
“Bella, I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “You lied to me the moment we met and you haven’t stopped.”
“It was supposed to be one night. I didn’t expect to feel the way I do about you.”
“So now you want points for having feelings for me?” I clutched the blanket around me with clenched fists.
I couldn’t properly fill my lungs with air. “You should have told me everything sooner. But you just kept lying. Is that why you told me about being Strand? Was that some sort of guilty confession?”
“No. I never wanted to share that part of myself with anyone,” he said. “I wanted you to know all of me. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“You wanted me to know everything, except the information that was most important to my family and me. Even tonight, we are only talking because I brought it up. Me. Not you. Why didn’t you tell me any of this until now?”
“Because I’m a self-centered asshole who takes what he wants,” Dylan shouted, sitting up, eyes flashing.
He got out of bed, pulling on his briefs. “I told you I was a fuck-up. I warned you. I thought we would have one night. One night only. I was here to survive Carnival and leave. My home is not in Venice with you, Bella.”
“Don’t worry. I know it isn’t.” I picked my clothes up off the floor piece by piece and held them to my chest. “You have made that very clear. Fuck you, Dylan,” I shouted, pulling on my panties.
“How could you? How could you be like this with me? Is that why you have been fucking me and making me think we are making love? Did James tell you to distract me, since I was the only person not on-board with his plan? I was the only person who dissented, right? He called me out for that.”
Dylan stared at me, his expression full of regret and guilt.
“Say it,” I said, suddenly seeing our first dinner together in a different light. “James wanted you to see me again. That is why he left us at dinner together.”
“James encouraged me. He knew you might be one of the only people who could stop the acquisition.”
“You have been distracting me, pretending to encourage my business, telling me stories about your sad life.” I felt sick with every word.
He flinched, but didn’t deny it. “I wanted to tell you the truth.”
“I can’t believe anything you say.”
“Bella, I have told you the truth tonight. I told you who I really am.”
“Bullshit,” I said, pulling on my pants. I fastened my bra and pulled on my sweater. I needed to find my boots. I had to get out of this room before I started screaming.
“Don’t go,” Dylan said. “I can’t fix what I’ve done, but I can help. There is a way for us to stop the acquisition. Together.”
“You want to help me now?” I laughed, picking up my boots. “I’m so glad you thought to mention that after you fucked me every which way.” I sat down and pulled on each boot, zipping it to the thigh.
“You have been lying to me from the moment we met. And all this bullshit about your music. How I brought it back. What the fuck, Dylan? I actually started to think I had real feelings for you. I was so afraid of what I was doing, knowing that it would hurt when you left. It would hurt, because I thought I was falling in love with you.”
“Bella,” he said. His face paled.
I stood up, fully clothed. Tears blurred my vision. “Does it make you fucking happy to know that you are that good of a liar?”
“I wasn’t lying. I’m not lying now. How I feel. How you feel. This is real, Bella.”
“Okay, so you lie about some things, but not others. Great. So good to know that you are an inconsistent liar.” I glared at him. “Were you even telling me the truth about Rebecca?”
Dylan looked stunned.
I picked up my phone, and I scanned the room to make sure I’d picked up every piece of myself.
“Whatever this is, it’s done,” I said, my voice catching. “Stay away from my family. Stay away from me. Tell your brother this isn’t over. If he thinks I am going to watch him steal my family’s company, he has another fucking thing coming.” I opened the door. “Goodbye, Dylan.”
The door clicked shut and the tears I’d been holding at bay spilled over. I didn’t try to stop them, but let them pour out.
Once again, I was leaving a man that I mistakenly thought I loved, but this time I wasn’t running. This time I was grieving and making a plan.