Chapter 8 #2
‘Hmm.’ He sat back against the cushion, draping his arm across the back of it.
She wondered what it would be like to shift over and snuggle in the gap, rest against his torso.
She could imagine that being very nice indeed.
The perfect way to binge-watch TV with Polo snuggled up beside her.
‘Did Francesca tell you what I do for a living?’
‘No, I – I assumed you worked in the family business. She’s mentioned it a few times. Don’t you?’
‘I do, sort of.’ That guardedness she’d seen at the gym when he and Cesca spoke was back. ‘I also run my own PR firm for local artists. I try to get their work seen on the international stage. Mostly I work in Venice but also in Murano and the surrounding islands.’
‘Oh, so you must know lots of local artists then?’ This could be exactly the type of link she needed.
‘I do. Many. It’s a hard way to make a living with a lot of uncertainty. Creatives often struggle to market themselves; I hope to take some of that burden away so they can concentrate on the thing they love.’
‘Do you think some might be interested in – I don’t know – exhibiting work on the book barge or—’
‘Would you want commission?’ His demeanour and tone changed instantly, and it was as though a totally different side to him had come out, one that was professional and businesslike. The change threw her, but she quickly rallied.
‘Umm …’ She probably would want commission, wouldn’t she?
She needed to earn money after all, and that was the whole point of the idea.
‘I think so, or perhaps a fee for use of the space to either display or run an event. The top of the deck needs clearing, but I’m hoping to have it as a mini events space.
Do you think some of your clients might be interested? ’
‘Possibly, but I’d need more information on the price and terms.’
‘Right, yes. Of course. I’ll have a think and come back to you.’
‘Here’s my card.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking a card from inside and handing it over.
‘Great, thanks.’
Her excitement was tinged with uncertainty at the change in him.
Things had been going well until conversation turned to business, then it died completely and as they stopped speaking, the music filling the space between them, it seemed neither really knew how to get it back on track.
Marco sipped his drink and smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes, and she couldn’t think of anything to ask that wouldn’t sound cheesy and like a desperate topic change.
She’d had lots of awkward encounters with academics – they weren’t generally known for their social skills – but this was definitely one of the worst. They glanced at each other, smiled awkwardly and both reached for their drinks, taking a sip and looking in different directions.
A few minutes later, just as Beth was about to make an excuse to leave or use the bathroom, they were saved by Cesca falling into the chair opposite her along with the handsome guy she’d been dancing with.
‘I need a drink. I’m so hot!’
‘Here.’ Marco handed her his glass, and she took a grateful drink. ‘Don’t try and get me to dance,’ he teased.
‘She knows better than that,’ the man said, glancing at a sweaty but wonderfully uninhibited Cesca. There was something in his eye and it didn’t take a genius to know he had a bit of a thing for Marco’s sister.
‘Thanks for babysitting her,’ Marco said. ‘And keeping her out of trouble.’
‘My pleasure,’ he replied and even the low light level couldn’t hide the way his cheeks turned even pinker.
‘Beth,’ Marco said. ‘This is Emilio, my best friend.’ He clapped a hand on Emilio’s shoulder in that manly way guys do.
‘Nice to meet you,’ Beth replied.
Unlike Marco, Emilio was blond with long curly hair tied back into a ponytail, though a lot of it was falling out from the dancing. He had a short-cropped beard that was more like stubble and dark, hazel eyes. When they shook hands, his were heavily calloused, and his grip was incredibly strong.
‘Sorry,’ he replied, as she withdrew her hand, almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking.
‘Em’s a pro-athlete,’ Cesca added, shooting a flirty look towards him. ‘He rows for the Italian national team.’
That explained the vice-like grip and the rough skin.
‘Really?’ Beth asked, and Emilio nodded shyly.
‘That’s why I’m not here as much I’d like. I’m away a lot. There are a lot of rowing competitions all over the world that we compete in.’
From the corner of her eye, Beth noticed Cesca drop her head almost sadly. Clearly, there was something going on between them, yet they weren’t holding hands or acting like couples do.
Cesca leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘Are you having fun with my brother?’ She raised her eyebrows knowingly.
‘We were talking business actually.’
‘Right.’ She stretched the word in such a teasing way Beth felt her cheeks flame. ‘I know he stopped by the book barge. He kept asking me about it. I’m surprised really. He doesn’t normally …’
‘Normally what?’ She knew she was playing into Cesca’s hands by asking, but she couldn’t stop herself.
‘Like people. Open up. It’s … weird. But good weird, I think.’
‘Oh.’
‘Are you going to go out with him?’
‘No. We were really talking about business and anyway, what about you two? There’s clearly—’
‘We’re just friends,’ Cesca replied, frowning, the joy leaching from her face as she glanced at Marco. He was deep in conversation with Emilio and hadn’t noticed his sister’s reaction.
‘Okay,’ Beth replied. It was clear Cesca didn’t want to talk about it. Beth would have to ask her when she was on her own. Emilio turned to them both and smiled, mostly at Cesca, who beamed back.
‘I’ve never met an actual sportsman before. That sounds exciting,’ Beth said.
‘I’m very lucky to do what I love. Not everyone can do that.’
As if realising he’d said something wrong, his eyes shot to Marco and there was another strange and sudden shift in the mood, particularly between Cesca and her brother.
Cesca glanced nervously at Marco from under her eyelashes while his gaze was fixed on the wine glass in front of him.
Emilio, obviously aware of it too, cleared his throat.
‘Right—’ He held out his hand to Cesca. ‘Ready for more?’
‘Are you?’ Cesca replied, ignoring his outstretched hand and standing up.
Beth was sure Emilio wasn’t babysitting Marco’s sister as a favour to him; he was spending time with her because he wanted to.
They made their way to the dance floor, leaving her and Marco alone in the changed atmosphere.
A Kylie party anthem was blaring, and it felt at odds with the silence they were in.
Beth wondered what exactly was going on that kept causing these strange shifts.
For a moment, Marco’s gaze remained fixed on what was left of his wine, the small dribble in the bottom of the glass barely enough to see in the low lighting.
His attention had turned inwards but rather than seeming angry or rude, he looked hurt, worried.
Though she knew it was none of her business, Beth felt compelled to ask, ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Fine. Why shouldn’t it be?’ As if realising how brusque his words had sounded and seeing the look on her face, he smiled, and his features softened. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude of me and unnecessary. My problems are not your fault.’
She was grateful for such an eloquent apology. If it hadn’t arrived she’d been debating walking away and even possibly telling him what a rude man he was. But what had Emilio said exactly that had upset him? Was it the comment about not being able to do what he loved?
‘Italian families,’ Marco said with a small laugh, then he sighed and took a drink of his wine. ‘We are passionate about our family businesses, especially something like glass-blowing. It is important to Murano. Our heritage, our responsibility.’
‘Cesca mentioned that there are sometimes … disagreements in your family.’ He looked up and she quickly reassured him nothing bad had been said about anyone.
‘We girls sometimes need people to talk to – that’s all.
Maybe with me being English she felt she could do that without judgement.
My family made mostly bad decisions all their lives, so I’m not going to judge anyone. ’
‘Cesca doesn’t have many friends, even though she is the life and soul of the party. I’m glad she has someone to talk to. She is our father’s favourite. The only daughter. She gets caught between us even though I try to avoid it. It’s hard for her. She finds it … claustrofobico.’
‘Claustrophobic?’
He nodded.
‘So your PR business, it’s separate to your family business?’
‘Sort of.’ He was quiet for a second before speaking. ‘With so many brothers working in the business, I wanted to do something else, so I started my PR firm.’
‘You’re not a fan of the glass-blowing?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s a skill and … not everyone has it.
’ That she could understand, but she couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to this story than he was telling her.
She couldn’t blame him given they’d only just met.
‘I hoped my father would let me use my skills for the family business too, exploring new ways of selling our products but he always refuses. It has caused some …’ she watched him search for the right word ‘… difficulties.’
‘How so?’ He looked up, his eyes searching her face as if deciding if he should tell her or not.
‘My father is a traditionalist and a technophobe. A difficult combination.’ He stopped here, clearly feeling he’d said too much already, and Beth decided not to press. She didn’t know him all that well and this wasn’t the time or the place. It was a party after all.
‘So—’ He drank the last of his wine. ‘Before we get another drink, or worse, get pulled onto the dance floor, shall I come and see the book barge again tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes, if you want me to convince my clients to trust you with their work I need to see exactly where you’re putting it and I wasn’t sure from seeing it earlier.’
Remembering his first brief visit to the barge and then the flowers and the encounter that was over far too soon, Beth grew hot.
‘Francesca’s coming to measure up for some work I need doing. You could come with her.’
‘Okay, I’ll do that. Would you like another drink?’
She nodded. Marco moved past her in a waft of aftershave and her stomach somersaulted.
The more she knew about him the more she wanted to know, and it wasn’t just because she’d been in Venice for a whole year and this was the first time she’d met a man who made her tummy flutter like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
Still waters ran deep, and Marco was interesting.
The change in him as he spoke about business was a little confusing, but he was clearly passionate, and she’d always been the same way about her career.
She was now about making the bookshop a success.
She also liked his career choice and his wish to help creatives.
She knew only too well how difficult it was to work in the arts.
He returned with another drink, and they began discussing art: her favourite paintings, his too, the museums and galleries they wanted to visit, the bookshops all around the world she wanted to see.
He was a reader too, and though they had very different tastes in literature, for the first time in years, Beth didn’t want the party to end.