Chapter Four
Four
La Primavera
Lorenzo
T he promise of a risqué exchange in the heart of Cannaregio was not enough to make her drop the gelato plans, which is adorable and more than a bit sexy.
She insisted on buying me one, but not even the best stracciatella in town can distract me from her warm brown eyes, her smooth fair skin, and her soft, shiny hair waving down her back, golden caramel under the sun. Damn, I shouldn’t be admiring her like this…
I get even more lost when Daisy licks her lips, savoring her pistacchio cone with such gusto that she emits moans of pleasure and closes her eyes every now and then. I’ve never seen anyone eat gelato with such passion.
It’s damn hot. And— fuck , I can’t think that. She wants to fall for her best friend, and I promised to help them. I can’t lose my bet with Luigi. It’s my future at stake.
It’s hard to steer my thoughts in the right direction, though. My breathing is labored, and I lean a little closer to her—because the kind of cupid I am is more devil than angel—and whisper, “You should do that in front of him.”
I can’t imagine how anyone who is attracted to women wouldn’t think this is sexy. He ought to be at least a little shaken.
She blinks at me, taken aback as if she is absolutely unaware of the effect her display of indulgence has on me. Oh, her innocence… She gives me more reasons to be a fuckup every second.
“What do you mean?” Her confusion is so sweet. “The ice cream?” Her eyebrows rise with sudden understanding. “Really?”
She blushes, and God, it’s adorable. I lean a few centimeters closer, unable to stop myself. Her back is against a wall next to a sotoportego , and there is a bit too much pedestrian traffic around given the popularity of the gelateria. We should go somewhere calmer…
“Yes,” I answer her question with a smirk. She keeps blinking, mouth slightly open, and I’m very tempted to taste those pistacchio lips. “Definitely try that with him.”
Saying this makes my stomach contract. I want her to seduce me and no one else, but that’s not what I signed up for. I need her to succeed in her romantic plans. It would be best for everyone. She gets her dream husband, and I prove I did a good job and get the manager position.
The problem is the obvious lack of chemistry between them.
For that to change, they must get bolder.
Less modest. More enticing. But her friend lacks attitude.
He’s too hesitant. If she doesn’t take the initiative and start seducing him soon, the project won’t move forward, and we’ll all be wasting our time.
Showing them a few romantic places will do nothing if they don’t start flirting for real. Daisy has all the potential to drive him mad with desire, and I need to show her that.
“I’m not sure it would work…or that I can do it now that I’m so self-aware.” She looks shyly at what’s left of her cone.
“You shouldn’t be so insecure, Daisy,” I tell her, wondering how in the world a woman as beautiful as her can overlook her own attractiveness.
She shrugs. “I guess it’s hard to remain confident when your boyfriend leaves you to be with your best friend’s girlfriend, and your best friend admits he doesn’t find you attractive despite loving you.”
I frown, angry on her behalf. I hope her ex never shows up at the hotel again because the way I’d treat him would be far from cordial. Daisy deserves so much more than this. No wonder her self-esteem is on the floor.
I want to cup her cheek and tell her that anyone who doesn’t see how gorgeous, sexy, smart, and lovely she is, is a fool—including Jeremy. His mind and heart are open to let her in, though, so it’s fair to give him a shot. He is rationally a good choice for her, after all, while I am not.
So I don’t touch her. I just look at her face, repressing my urges, educating my mind.
There’s one thing I can do though.
I can help her find her confidence.
“Daisy, if you want, I can show you the power you have and how to use it.”
She eats the last bite of her gelato, and we look at each other for a loaded five seconds.
“What do you mean by that?” she asks, breathing hard because she knows that when I said I could show her how to make Jeremy stop seeing her as his childhood friend, I had something… tricky in mind.
I mean, teaching a guest how to seduce someone? Luigi would say I’m thinking with my dick, which would only prove he’s right and I shouldn’t get the manager position—or be allowed to work at Hotel Marchesi in any capacity.
But if I don’t do this—if I don’t show this vulnerable woman that she has the power to get any man she wants to fall head over heels for her—she’ll keep waiting for Venice to do all the work.
She needs to be the director of the scenes she wants to create, subtly and skillfully inducing situations that invite intimacy.
“I want to bring you somewhere you can return to with Jeremy, just the two of you,” I say.
“And I want to show you that it’s not just about the place.
I’m sorry to say, but it’s the only way to move on with the project.
Nothing will happen between the two of you if you don’t…
follow my advice.” I don’t want to explain more.
Words can’t convey what I want her to feel.
She just has to trust me. Even though I’m not sure I can trust myself…
“It’s the only way,” I repeat, more for myself than for her.
“I’ve watched the two of you all day today, and if you want my help, this is what I can offer.
Or we’ll just be wasting our time.” We stare at each other, and I lift an eyebrow.
“Unless you want to give up on the project?”
It takes her a few seconds to answer. That gives my heart time to start a hopeful riot. But then she shakes her head. “I’m not giving up yet.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. It’s for the best. My promise. The bet. Luigi. My future at the hotel. “Will you come with me, then?”
“Don’t you have to go back to the hotel soon?” She glances at her watch, and even though I want to see what time it is, I don’t check mine. I’m not in a hurry.
“I can answer my emails later. And I’ll be staying at the bar until it closes, so I’m free until five.”
Daisy’s eyes never leave mine. “So, besides being a bartender, a concierge, a tour guide, and a fairy godmother, you’re offering to be my teacher in your free time?
And I’m supposed to say yes to a lesson with a curriculum I haven’t approved?
” She is trying to read me, to guess what I’m going to do with her.
But it’s clear in the slight curve of her lips that she’s in—and she’s not afraid.
I smirk. “It’s my pleasure to offer you a free trial, commitment-free.” I give her a sideways glance. “And you don’t need a plan. You’ll play by ear.”
The corners of her mouth tug up a little more, and my stomach spins.
I can’t help flirting with her. Because she can’t help herself either.
She’s excited . I can almost sense her heart beating fast. I wonder when her ex-boyfriend last brought her on an escapade .
Asshole that he was, she probably only had vanilla dates.
I’m going to bring her on a fior di latte date with a hint of amarena and tiramisù .
A professional date, of course. A sample of what a tantalizing rendezvous could look like.
That will hopefully inspire her to take action, because “romantic moments” don’t happen spontaneously.
That’s a lie many believe. It’s why couples let the fire die out.
They hope it will light up again but don’t bother to feed the flames.
Often, people think romance is effortless because their partner is the one consciously doing all the work.
Lucky for me, I like the seduction game, and while I don’t mind being the main player, there’s nothing as thrilling as having a well-matched partner.
“Where are we going, then?” she asks, moving away from the wall.
“Calle Varisco,” I say. “The narrowest street in Venice.”
She smiles with interest. “Cool.”
We walk, and I notice she is attentive to her surroundings, reading signs, memorizing every turn and bridge crossed so she can remember the way when she returns with Jeremy.
We reach Campiello Stella, enter Calle del Fumo, then turn on Calle Varisco.
“It doesn’t look abnormally narrow,” she says.
“That’s because the narrowest part is at the end,” I say, and we keep walking down the street until the famous part comes, starting at a Doric column, inviting people to squeeze between two blocks of buildings to reach the water.
“It’s fifty-three centimeters wide,” I say.
“I have no idea what that is in inches.”
“About twenty, maybe?” I take a guess. I’m used to converting measurements for foreign guests.
“I bet that, with your broad shoulders, you can’t even pass without turning sideways,” she says.
“Well, let’s check,” I say, even though I’ve been here several times and know she is right.
This is a somewhat popular spot in Venice, but only a small percentage of tourists know it exists or care about trying to find it.
“You go ahead then.” I put my hands on her shoulders to gently usher her onward.
We enter the narrow part of the calle slowly, and she turns her head back to see if my body can fit. It can, but my arms brush against the stone walls. I smile, and she smiles back. Then I stop and hold her hand to stop her too.
“Wait.”
She halts, looking down at my hand on hers. I feel a prickle where our skin meets. A jolt of electricity that brings a larger smile to my lips.
“Legend has it that if you’re a killer, the walls will close in on you,” I tell her.
She stares back at me. “We shouldn’t have come here then. You’re a lady-killer.”
I laugh. Daisy grips my hand tighter, saying, “Fast, before we’re smashed,” and we run together to the dead end of the calle . I stop behind her, facing the green waters of the canal just beyond her feet.
“What now?” I ask, smirking. “We jump in the water?”