His Two Hidden Masks: Steamy International Billionaire Romance

Chapter 31

Ifound Dylan downstairs, talking to Paolo at the front desk. I hadn’t told Dylan about anything that I’d discovered with my family. All I wanted was to crawl into bed with him and lock the door.

I wanted time in his arms, time to talk to him, time to share with him everything about my life.

Hearing my mother’s story, my memories of my parents shifted from black-and-white to color. I believed in a timeline where my family was happy before Sara.

Learning that the fairy tale story of my childhood was an illusion hurt, but at least it was the truth. I didn’t want to hide behind lies ever again.

I slipped beside Dylan and grasped his hand. The warmth of his skin calmed me. While my mind attempted to rebuild my understanding of my past, I needed to hold onto something in my present. Dylan.

“Are you all right?” he asked, turning from Paolo to look at me.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

I couldn’t wait to share the truth with him, all of it. I had given him my body so many times, I wanted to give him more now. I believed he would also share his truth with me.

“And Bella, you should talk to Paolo. He has something wonderful to share,” Dylan said.

“‘Wonderful’ sounds good to me,” I said. “What is it?”

“We are all out of your candies.” Paolo crossed his arms, smiling.

“That is not possible. I prepared dozens and dozens of boxes. Check the walk-in.”

“You don’t understand, darling,” Dylan said. “They sold them all.”

“They what?” My heart pounded.

“Late last night, it started,” said Paolo. “It was a steady stream of drunken Carnival couples. First, they called, next they came to the door. Some just pounded on the windows.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They wanted your candy,” Paolo said. “They came from the ball at Doge’s palace and said there weren’t enough boxes at the venue.”

I turned and looked at Dylan. “You mentioned Bella Baci once, and there was no candy at the ball.”

“I think I said, they taste like heaven, just like you,” Dylan said. “You know there may a slogan in there.”

“You are saying that one mention from you and that’s it, everything sells?”

“Well,” Dylan looked sheepish, “promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Leo may have sold some of your candies at my merch table.”

My eyes widened. “Your merch table,” I repeated. “First, why I am just now hearing about your merch table.”

“Everyone has merch.” Dylan shrugged and pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. Next to the t-shirts, hoodies, and CDs was a stack of the Carnival-packaged caramels and a sign that read, “Bella Baci.”

“We didn’t have many. It was Leo’s idea, mostly,” he said. “Actually, all of it. It was brilliant.”

“Wasn’t it also Leo’s idea to marry me,” I said.

“He is a very creative man,” Dylan deadpanned. “And that was my idea. He was the first to agree with me. Let the record stand.”

I blinked at the picture, remembering Dylan in his element, singing for me, singing for himself, singing for his fans. The night had been impossibly beautiful and surreal. The idea that Dylan and Leo had conspired to share my love of Bella Baci filled my eyes with tears.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up at him. “You didn’t tell me you were trying to help me.”

“You don’t need my help,” Dylan said. “You’ve got this. You always did. I was just sharing the hard work you have already done.”

“They all sold?”

“All of them,” Paolo said. “Every last box. I sent Vincenzo into the walk-in twice to make sure we hadn’t missed any. The crowds were quite demanding. I wanted to give them what they wanted.”

“I have a business,” I whispered, throwing my arms around Dylan.

“You have a real business,” Dylan said. “You have people who want your products. You are officially an entrepreneur and this is just the beginning.”

I buried my face in his neck, his heartbeat thumping beneath my ear. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me or ask me to sell them.”

“Technically, this is a lie by omission which I know is still a lie,” he said. “I promise you there will be no more impromptu chocolate sales or groom switches without your consent.”

“I don’t think I’m going to consent to that second one,” I said, zooming in on the merch table.

“You still sell CDs? At the very least, you should sell limited edition vinyl. CDs make you seem like a hundred. Wait, how old are you?” I said, realizing this was one of many questions I still needed to ask my husband.

Dylan laughed. “I’m ancient. I’m thirty-four, darling, but don’t worry. I age like fine wine or high-quality whiskey.”

Paolo leaned forward. “I started a list with the name, number, and email of people who want to come back today to buy boxes. The phone won’t stop ringing. Some people call for Bella Baci and end up making a reservation.”

“I have to make more.” My heart beat faster with excitement. “I need to go to the kitchen.”

“Now? Right now?” Dylan said.

“Yes. Now.”

“Okay, you’re the boss,” Dylan said. “There goes my wife, back into the kitchen.” He winked at Paolo.

“Your wife for now.” I swatted his arm.

That afternoon,I silenced all my worries and made chocolates. My mother instructed the sous chefs to prep in another area of the kitchen. I asked Lissa to help me, and together, we made tray after tray of Bella Baci.

I dipped the caramel into chocolate, thinking of my business. I rolled the caramel in smoked sea salt thinking of my sister. I placed the chocolates into boxes, nestling them in beautiful paper thinking of my mother and the way she protected me from the truth about her marriage.

In the end her lies melted like butter in a copper pan. I wished she had trusted herself enough to tell me the truth earlier. We lost years together. I didn’t want to miss any more.

I sampled the chocolates, enjoying the mix of flavors, the sweet with the salt, the fire with the cooling, dark cocoa. Every bite a combination that reminded me of a symphony of emotion that mirrored the complexity of life.

You never know what you are going to get when you bite into a beautiful chocolate. And for once, knowing that my life would be full of unknowns gave me with a sense of joy, instead of fear. I was ready to grow, even if that meant I wandered off the cobblestone paths of Venice.

By the end of the day, I had prepped enough boxes to meet the walk-in orders that Paolo promised to tourists. A line of people queued from the front desk into the campo, and when we ran out again, we took names and emails to notify people when we would be ready to ship more inventory.

It was overwhelming. The idea that I needed to come up with an operational plan for distributing my chocolates worldwide was exhilarating and terrifying. I loved it.

In a short while, I evolved from a depressed, scandalous, runaway bride to a married woman with a thriving business. Of course, there was still a bit of scandal, but I no longer cared what anyone thought of me. I felt free and alive with possibility.

Roberto walked into the kitchen as I put the final touches on a batch of dark chocolates, nestling them into white papers in a beautifully painted box. Lissa saw him, her cheeks flushing.

“Lissa, can you give us some time alone?” I asked.

Lissa nodded. She walked past Roberto and squeezed his arm before exiting into the dining room. I took off my apron. “Can we talk?”

Roberto nodded.

I touched the Murano heart around my neck and held out my hand. “I have something you need to know. It’s about Sara.”

Roberto’s face paled. I held his hand as I walked him out of the kitchen to the back stairs. There, an enclosed porch faced the canal. It was warm, and we had a beautiful view of the water and a series of arching bridges of that led to the lagoon.

There were still a few people in Carnival masks walking about, but the city was calming. It was early evening, and crisp with cold, but there a sleepiness was falling over our gilded city.

“I was there the day she took the pills,” I whispered, holding his hand. “I didn’t know it until I went back into her room. I talked to my mom and she filled in some missing pieces.”

“She said she fought with your father,” Roberto said.

“I don’t think that’s what happened. She heard my parents fighting. My mother told a lie to my father.” I paused. “Sara believed you were her half-brother.”

Roberto paled. “That’s what she meant about being unholy.”

“It wasn’t true. My mother was lashing out at my father, but Sara heard it. I don’t know what else was happening in her life, but it was too much for her. She couldn’t bear it.”

Roberto dropped my hand, his face ashen. He rested his face in his hands. “She was so beautiful. I always knew something was wrong that summer. I suspected she was depressed.

My memories of being with you and Sara were happy, but I didn’t always think it was a happy home.” He looked up at me, his dark eyes wet with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Roberto,” I said.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault. If Sara and I hadn’t been together..”

“You can’t say that, Roberto. You were innocent. You loved her. None of this is your fault or hers. You were children in love, and maybe if she had been older, or if my family had been more of a safe place for her, she might have talked to my family before giving in to her sadness. She had to be depressed before, Roberto.”

“I know,” he said. “I spent my life thinking I would be a part of the Uzano family. Sara knew about your father’s infidelity and she shared her anger with me. I didn’t know there was more. When she died, I felt so loyal to your mother that I wanted the life that I would have had if she hadn’t died. And there was you. It seems insane now, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You are talking to a woman who married a virtual stranger last night,” I said, leaning into him.

He snorted. “You know, you are right. That is crazy.” He looked at me. “But he doesn’t feel like a stranger to you, does he?”

“No.”

We sat side-by-side, looking out across the canal. The sunset painted the sky in brilliant orange and red strokes.

“What are you going to do now that you’ve stopped the acquisition,” said Roberto. “Are you going to stay with him?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said. “I want to, but I am trying not to do something rash. Which I know seems ridiculous, all things considered.”

“Do you love him?” Roberto asked.

“Yes,” I said. “That is crazy, right? I barely know him, but everything in my body tells me to not let him go, and for once, I feel like I know what is right for me, as scary as that is.”

“You should listen to your body, Bella,” he said. “I knew something was wrong with Sara that summer. I should have asked more questions and forced your parents to tell the truth.

“I don’t think you and I would have ended up on that altar if I had been clear about my feelings for her. I could have helped your family heal.”

“I don’t think my parents were ever going to heal. Their marriage was never built on love. It’s weird to say that out loud. It’s not my life, and if they hadn’t married, I wouldn’t exist, but I wish they had made different choices.”

I stared out across the water. As the sky grew dark, Christmas lights danced on the bow of a boat bound for the lagoon. A couple on a bridge across from us took selfies, phones flashing, trying to capture the rising moon.

“It’s funny, I love this city. I have loved my life here, but I think it may be time for me to go.”

“But your business,” Roberto said. “Lissa told me all about your orders. I am sorry I tried to shut it down. I was so angry when you left. I wanted to hurt you, to hurt your whole family. I understand now that part of what I was carrying was my grief for your sister.”

“I know,” I said. “I forgive you.” I hoped my words healed him.

He sighed and smiled. “So where would you go, and are you sure you want to walk away from your business like that?”

“I don’t know yet, and I don’t want to walk away from my business. I feel like there is a life waiting for me outside of Venice.”

“What does your husband think?” he said, bumping me with his elbow.

“Ha! You know. We have not talked about where we are going to live.” I sighed. “I may not have all those answers, but I do know one thing that I need to do.” I reached around my neck and unclasped the blue Murano heart that belonged to Sara. “This is for you.”

Roberto’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “I can’t take that from you.”

“Yes, you can, and you will,” I said. “You gave this to Sara because you loved her and you should give it to the next woman you love. Like maybe there is someone here that you love?”

I smiled at him. “Oh, I don’t know, someone with blonde hair whose cheeks flush every time you walk into the room.”

“Love,” he said. “Do you really think I’m someone Lissa could love? I have been such an asshole.”

“I know, and she still thinks you are hot.” I raised my hand. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

He laughed, holding the necklace in front of him. I loved seeing the Christmas lights glint through the beautiful blue heart. I picked up Roberto’s hand.

“What happened to us is in the past. You loved my sister and you loved me. The fact that we are sitting here together as friends shows you how much I love and trust you as a friend. You are a good man, and Lissa knows that,” I said. “This heart has come back to you for a reason. It is yours to gift again.”

I kissed his forehead.

He looked at me and smiled. “Thank you. That is one nice Bella Baci.”

“Oh my God. You are so cheesy.” Looking into his green eyes, I remembered hearing the ring of his laugher when he walked beside my sister. I was always a few steps behind my beautiful, older sister. And now, I sat beside her beloved. It was time for us all to rest.

That night,Dylan and I walked the quiet streets of Venice, arm-in-arm. Bundled up in scarves, my mother also insisted on giving me one of her warm, wool hats. It was as if she had bottled up decades of mothering, and now, she wanted to make sure I understood I was loved.

I knew it would take time for us to heal, but we knew the truth now, and that would have to be the foundation we poured between us. I loved her despite her faults, and now I understood the pain she carried.

I knew from experience that time would not heal all our wounds. Instead, time would shape us all into something different. Our grief broke us in places we couldn’t see and we would put our hearts back together again.

Like the Japanese art of Kingutsi where porcelain cracks are filled with gold, I hoped we would heal into something more beautiful than before.

I glanced up at Dylan as we walked. I never grew tired of soaking in the cut of his jaw, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes that gave evidence this man knew how to smile. Since the night of our “wedding,” he smiled all the time. How was it possible that this gorgeous man was all mine?

Life was so deliciously complicated, but I no longer lied to myself and said I craved simplicity. The choice to love Dylan was one of the only thoughts swirling through my head as we walked the streets of Venice.

I considered my mother’s revelations about my father and the explosion of my business. My mailing list of customers grew by hundreds in the blink of an eye, and based on the social media flurry over Dylan’s new music, and interest in his entrepreneurial wife, the demand for my candy was not slowing down. I needed to make a plan so I could scale.

“I have an idea,” I said to Dylan as we turned and walked toward the lagoon.

“I love your ideas.”

“I think I will ask Roberto and Lissa to head up operations here in Venice.”

“So where will you be, my clever Bella, if you task this team with managing production from your Venetian location?”

I laughed. “You are the one suggesting I think big,” I said, the idea making me giddy.

“I am not suggesting anything,” he said. “I am asking the CEO for her thoughts on strategy.”

“My thoughts on strategy,” I repeated. liking his question.

“I am happy to walk and think with you. A good CEO gives themselves times to process.”

A good CEO. The words gave me a thrill. Walking beside Dylan, the idea of leaving Venice grew wings. If I admitted I was leaving Venice, where did that leave me? Where did that leave Dylan? Where did that leave our marriage of convenience and oh-so-many benefits?

Our love was a flame that I wanted to fan and grow. The sparks we created that first night in Venice had grown into a bed of red-hot embers where we tumbled together, lost in the heat of us.

“What are you thinking about now, my clever Bella?” Dylan said, leaning down.

I noticed how he was leading us on our winding walk this time. “I was just thinking about how you are no longer the lost angry tourist from the first night me met.”

“Make no mistake, I would be lost in this city without you, but I do know how to get to a few places. I have memorized a couple of paths.”

He held my hand and pulled me close. We stood on a small arched bridge down from the Rialto. The lights of the canal glittered. Our breath came out in frozen bursts.

The heat of this man was intoxicating. I wanted to slide my hands under his coat and touch his chest. I wanted to run my fingers across his bare skin. I couldn’t get enough of him.

“Do you want to know what I’ve memorized in fair Venice?” Dylan said.

“Why, yes I do.”

“I have memorized the path from my hotel room to your bed. The path from my favorite coffee shop to your bed. The path from Doge”s Palace to your bed. The path from, should I continue?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“I have memorized the curve of your hips when you lie naked on your side beside me.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Is that so?” I said, feeling desire rise in my body.

Gloves off, he ran his thumb across my lower lip. “I also can’t stop daydreaming about your mouth, your kiss, your smile, the way your left cheek dimples when you laugh.”

“You are quite the daydreamer,” I said, my breath growing shallow.

“I love all your expressions. Most of all, I love the look on your face when I come inside you.” He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue darting across my teeth.

I broke out in goosebumps. He kissed me again, a firm warm kiss that made me weak with desire.

“I have memorized you, clever Bella,” he said, taking a breath. “You are Venice. You are London. You are New York. You are San Francisco. You are my world, and I will follow you anywhere.” He stopped and stepped back, holding me by my elbows. “Am I scaring you?”

“I married you last night.” I laughed. “I think I’m well past the point of being scared.”

“And will you keep me?” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. I know we don’t know exactly what this is, and we have done everything backward.”

“That’s true.”

“Shall we give this a go?” he whispered, his head lowered, dark hair in front of his beautiful, deep brown eyes. “Is that what you want?”

His question floated in the air between us. With his body, his touch, and his belief in me, this man helped me find the courage to change my life.

I discovered my voice and my desire. My body and soul wanted nothing more than to spend days and nights in Dylan’s arms.

“I know what I want,” I said.

“You do?” He looked at me, eyes wide.

“Yes, do you trust me?”

“I belong to you. I am yours and you are mine. If you choose to stay married to me, I will love you forever. If you choose to divorce me, I’ll still love you forever. I have something I’d like to give you.”

We reached San Marco Square and stood in front of Cafe Florian, in the spot where I’d first propositioned Dylan in the moonlight. “Stop here,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, unsure where this would lead.

“I am not going to get down on one knee because you have already said ‘yes.’”

My heartbeat pulsed through my whole body.

Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. “We thought of everything on our wedding day except the ring. And you are worthy of a ring, my love.”

He opened the box, revealing an enormous, emerald cut diamond. There were gems on either side of the stone, an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire.

I gasped, my eyes filling with tears. “The colors of Carnival.”

“I don’t expect you to wear it,” he said, holding the box before me.

“Shhhhh,” I said. I took off my gloves and took the ring out of the box, holding it in the air. He looked at me, apprehension filling his eyes.

“It’s beautiful, Dylan.” I said. The ring looked blurry through my tears. “And I am not going to divorce you. I couldn’t bear to say we are broken. We are not broken. We are just beginning.”

“Thank God, woman,” he said, his head dropping in relief.

I held the ring up in the air and slid it onto my right ring finger. “I will wear your ring as a promise,” I said, “a promise that if, in one year, we feel the same, you will ask me again.”

“To marry you?”

“Yes.”

“I will ask you every day,” Dylan said.

I laughed as he wrapped his arms around me, twirling me in the air. He set me down, his eyes locked on mine.

I reached up and touched his face. “Dylan, I don’t know if we are insane. I don’t think there are instructions for people like us, but I know that I don’t want to do anything that hurts us, anything that puts pressure on us. I want to care for our love so it is with us forever.”

“Like a marriage,” he whispered.

“Well, we are married, so that ship has sailed.”

“We will protect our marriage with this promise,” he said, dropping to one knee.

“Oh, my God,” I gasped, laughing. “You said you wouldn’t do this. You are ridiculous.”

“Bella Uzano,” he said, looking up at me. “Will you promise to be my wife today?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed the ring on my right hand. “I promise to ask you every day.”

He stood and pulled me into an embrace.

“And some day, I want us to marry again,” I whispered. “No masks, no confusion. Just you and me. I want to look in your eyes and know that I am choosing you, the man of my dreams.”

“Please tell me you don’t want a big fucking wedding,” he said.

“The biggest,” I giggled. “I probably want an orchestra in the church.”

“Not a bloody church.”

“Or maybe on a beach,” I said.

“Now you are talking,” he whispered.

“I want to choose you for real. I want us to choose each other.”

“I will promise to marry you every day,” Dylan said, his arms growing tighter around my lower back.

His body called me and my desire answered, swelling like waves in the lagoon breaking against the stone wall, spilling into San Marco Square.

Like the rising waters of my beautiful Venice, our love could never be contained.