Midnight in Venice Read Free Page B

was agreeing with him when his cellphone rang. “Damn it,” he said looking at the display. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
    Olivia watched him stride inside the cabin and then turned back to Dino, catching him looking her over intently. He quickly glanced away, apparently interested in the seagulls fighting over a discarded sandwich.
    â€œThose are the biggest seagulls I’ve ever seen,” she said conversationally. She shouldn’t read too much into his stare. Of course he’d be curious about her.
    â€œYeah,” he said, his smile as friendly as when she shook his hand. “Meaner, too. They swoop down on the pigeons in San Marco and rip their hearts out right in front of the tourists.” He laughed. “I think they like to make the children cry. The seagulls also pick them up in their claws and drown them in the canal, dunking them in over and over until they’re dead. The pigeons that is, not the children—though that would be a sight, wouldn’t it? Here comes your cousin now. Remember, if you get cold, you can ride in the cabin.”
    Marco sat beside her as Dino started the boat. “Is Dino a bit odd?” she asked quietly.
    â€œNo,” Marco returned, looking surprised at the question.
    â€œWell, he just told me this awful story about seagulls killing pigeons, and seemed to be enjoying it.”
    Marco’s laughter sounded relieved. “Oh, that’s just a Venetian thing. Venetians pretend to despise the pigeons, always saying they should all be shot or poisoned. Don’t pay any attention. And Dino is a great guy, really.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, though she still thought there had been just a little too much glee in Dino’s story.
    â€œOnce Christmas is over, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do much sightseeing with you,” Marco said as they raced across the lagoon toward the city. “I’m off to Iceland after New Year’s.”
    â€œIceland?” Olivia asked, pulling up her collar to ward off the chill wind.
    â€œSilvio is interested in the work of a collective there, and I’m going to be checking them out. I’m looking forward to it, but it will mean leaving you on your own. I won’t be able to show you the city—or protect you from the amorous Silvio. He’s been asking a lot of questions about you, and I know he’s going to take one look at those violet eyes of yours and go straight for the kill. I don’t want to sound like your big brother, but be careful he doesn’t break your heart.”
    â€œI know, I know,” Olivia said. While she’d inherited her father’s olive Italian complexion and dark hair, she had her mother’s unusual violet eyes, which Marco claimed put the most perfect amethyst to shame.
    This wasn’t the first time Marco had warned her about Silvio’s penchant for attractive women, but she was pretty sure that, even without the warning, she wouldn’t be falling for Silvio. She wasn’t in a relationship, but she wasn’t pining for one either. By twenty-nine, she’d had her share of boyfriends, a couple of them serious, a couple not. The relationships had ended or fizzled out with varying degrees of stress and tears, and she’d been pretty content living on her own, working with Marco, enjoying the company of friends, and, of course, spending as much time as she could with her father in his final months.
    Really, she was happy just to be in Venice. And if she was tempted to jump into anyone’s bed, it would be that cop back there with those smoldering movie-star looks and eyes you could drown in.
Crikey
, she thought.
If I read that in a romance novel, I would groan. It sounds so hokey.
    Marco snapped her out of her reverie by pointing out the island of Murano, where the glassblowing industry was located. “They started blowing glass here in the thirteenth century. They needed