An Aria in Venice: A Musical Interlude Novel Read Online Free Page B

in the restaurant. I move around
Alek and head straight toward the guy wearing the royal blue shirt, the only
one among the group who has dared to wear a splash of color on his clothing.
    “I’m
Adriana Dostovsky.” I hold out my hand to him, and oh-my-God, he has eyes that
give Nikolai a run for the most intriguing blue irises ever … and they are only
the beginning.
    Dark
blond hair that’s wavy and swept back from his face reminds me of one of those
broody stars from the 60’s that Mother loves so much. The chiseled jawline and
sculpted nose makes me think there’s Roman blood somewhere along his family
ancestry. His shirt fits well enough to show off broad shoulders and well-toned
abs. However, the thing holding my attention right now happens to be his lip
ring, a silver hoop situated right in the middle of his full bottom lip,
something that looks pretty cool on my other roommate, Jojo, but is insanely
sensual on this man. When he opens his heart-shaped mouth, something gold on
his tongue glitters in the light. Up until that point, my imagination had done
a pretty good job of behaving itself, but as soon as the tongue ring appears in
this picture, I set my thoughts free. My imagination is creating some pretty
raw images of what he might be able to do with his chosen combination of,
eh-em, body jewelry. Italy’s known for its achy-hot designers, but this guy
sets a bar so high that I don’t think many other rock stars of design will
stand a chance of tilting his podium.
    And
then, he introduces himself.
    Or
rather, he greets me by using another woman’s name.
    “Ciao,
Juliette,” he responds, and I’m not sure whether I should be annoyed or
flattered. “Luca Martuccio.”
    “I
said Adriana, not Juliette.” Right. Maybe he needs a little work in the manners
department.
    “Yes,
I know,” he answers. “A ray of sunshine such as yours can only possess
uniqueness in a name as equally beautiful as the sun rising over the sea.” His
gaze locks on mine. “A girl who has an ocean swimming inside her eyes.” Hmm.
He’s obviously a player, but then, I get a mischievous smile highlighted by
dimples and a genuine earnestness inside his eyes.
    Wow!
He’s a professional, even better than my brother ... and Nikolai. Coming from
anyone else, such remarks might be considered lame, like top of the line silly,
too. But on this man, the authenticity in his words, the way he stares into my
eyes as he wraps that tongue—highlighted by the flash of the gold ring embedded
in the tip—around each gorgeously accented syllable triggers something in me
that’s hard to explain.
    Suddenly,
I’m glad I combed those bangs back off my face just before leaving the theater.
I would never have wanted to take a chance on missing out on the way Luca
Martuccio is staring at me right now.

Chapter 3 : Someone Like Me ...

     
    Nikolai
     
    I
am an ass.
    I
know this, yes.
    She
is very much like a little sister to me, a baby, a girl who should be protected
... especially from someone like me.
    The
Piazza Del Duomo sits in the heart of Milan. All sections inside the rectangle
lead up to the Duomo cathedral sitting at the far end of the area. This part of
the city, along with the Galleria Del Vittorio, Milan’s largest shopping
district, always fills me with wonder and intrigue as I walk through the
cobblestone streets. It is almost as though I can feel the history and can see
the workers laying the brick work to one of the grandest buildings in the
world. Normally the distractions would be a good enough reason to forget my
problems. The scent of coffee drifts from inside corner one. Rose petal
fragrances fill the air as we walk around corner two and enter the arch leading
into the Galleria’s hundreds of shops. The scent of food envelops me next. There’s
always some kind of aroma drifting inside the air of Milan. However, thoughts
of her perfect breasts, her hips that are dangerously curvy for a dancer, and
the desire in her eyes