A Starlet in Venice Read Free Page B

much.
    Yet in answer to his concern, I exhaled and I prepared to tell him one of these secrets. Because despite what I’d seen at Casanova, Liam was my friend, and tonight, I really needed a friend. “Not sad, necessarily,” I said. “Just thoughtful.”
    “Want to share?” he asked me, reaching over to refill my wine glass.
    I looked into the liquid as if it would provide me answers. I could feel him watch me. Finally, I spoke. “Twelve years ago today,” I said quietly, “I had an abortion.” I took a sip of the wine. “It was the right decision,” I said, “and I don’t regret making it. But it’s never an easy day.”
    That was only part of the story, only one secret out of three. I didn’t tell him anything else. No one knew the other parts.
    Liam was Irish, raised Catholic as I was. He was also the manager of a BDSM club, and I didn’t think he was particularly religious. But I still braced myself for judgement. There was none. “Tia,” he said, moving from his spot on the couch and pulling me into his arms. “Sweet rabbit,” he said softly.
    “You don’t think I’m going to burn in the fires of hell?”
    “Twelve years ago, you would have been seventeen.” His voice was infinitely kind. “You were barely a child, one who had never known her parents. You grew up in an orphanage.” He drew a deep breath. “I don’t believe in the fires of hell, and I don’t think I ever did. But even if I did, Tatiana, I don’t think there’s anyone less likely to burn in it than you.”
    I stared into my wine glass. I didn’t cry; I rarely cried. I hadn’t cried since last year, when the sadness had suddenly bubbled up and overwhelmed me, not because of the abortion, but because of what had preceded it.
    We watched the rest of the movie in silence. It was really late when we were done. I glanced at the clock on the DVD player. Three thirty. Late at night, when even the streets of Venice were dark and quiet.
    “You’ll stay over?” he asked.
    I nodded. “Sure,” I said casually. I’d stayed over many, many times, after many a late night of movies and dinner and laughter. I was no stranger to Liam’s guest room.
    ***
    Safely ensconced in the bedroom, I looked blankly at the closed door. Tonight, I ached to be held by Liam, and it was almost a physical pain. I considered. It was four, maybe five steps to the guest bedroom door. Then another ten steps to Liam’s bedroom, and to the comfort of his arms, keeping me safe and protected and cherished.
    I didn’t move. I buried my face in my pillow, and I forced myself to stay where I was.
    It had felt good to tell Liam, and his response had been exactly what I’d wanted. He didn’t ask a hundred questions, he didn’t ask who the guy was or if he’d stepped up to the plate, he didn’t demand to know any more than I had revealed. He had just accepted.
    I sighed. More than anything, I wanted to go back in time and erase the words I’d spoken about sex, because, as had been the case for the last several months, I wanted more from Liam. I wanted more than his easy smile and his laughs, I even wanted more than his cooking. I wanted to see passion in his eyes when he looked at me. I wanted him to take me by my hand and give me a personal tour of Casanova. I wanted everything.
    But though my body ached for Liam, my heart was afraid. Silly rabbit, I said to myself, hugging the pillow as I repeated the term of endearment he always used for me.
    Liam was whole and loved; I was broken and rejected. Nothing good could ever come out of this.

Chapter 4
     
    Tatiana:
    “What do you mean, you’ve never had good sex?” Lucia’s voice rose in disbelief, and I winced.
    It was about a week after the night I’d seen Liam punish Simona at the club. Night after night, I’d dreamed about it, about the way the paddle had swung down on her ass, and the way she’d presented herself to Liam. As if she needed the pain, and he fulfilled something in her soul.
    “Lucia,