Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(5)

A boom of thunder brought her attention to the change in Dante’s smile.

He secured the gondola to the dock with a single rope and used his weight to hold the rocking vessel steady while helping her onto dry land.

Lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled quickly behind.

Dante scrambled over his boat to cover the seats with a fitted tarp. He was halfway through when the rain started to pelt down.

Trina wanted to help but knew she’d just be in the way.

Instead, she stood in the warm Venezia thunderstorm and proceeded to get soaked. There was something cathartic about purposely standing in the rain and letting the water run down her hair. Standing there with someone, even a someone she didn’t really know, was better than being there alone.

The second Dante finished covering the gondola, he jumped to her side, grasped her shoulders, and rushed them down a small alley that opened into a plaza. As in most of the squares in Venezia, there was a church with a large overhang to protect them from the rain.

Not that it mattered—they were both dripping in the shadow of the building.

Thunder ripped through again and the rain flew at them sideways.

They both moved as close as they could to the door, and still the rain managed to reach their feet.

Looking down at her soaked shirt and cotton shorts, Trina started to laugh.

Soon Dante joined her.

“This is nuts,” she said in English.

“It can last for hours or minutes,” he told her.

She poked her head out from under the eaves and looked at the gray sky.

“I think we’re somewhere in between.” When she looked at Dante again, he was standing closer. He reached out and pushed a wet strand of hair from her face.

Kiss one for me. Avery’s voice buzzed like an annoying fly in her head.

“You are so very beautiful.”

“And you’re a player.”

“Guilty,” he said as he stepped closer.

Just one kiss. It wouldn’t kill ya!

“Shut up, Avery,” Trina whispered in English.

Dante licked his lips. “Talking yourself out of my attention, or into my affections?”

She shivered, knowing before he leaned in that she would not have to lie to her best friend.

He moved slowly, giving her time to back away.

Trina didn’t.

And when Dante kissed her, she forced her eyes to close and her head to tilt back.

It was nice . . . okay, maybe a bit more than just nice. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone, she thought maybe she’d forgotten how.

Dante, on the other hand, knew exactly how to kiss.

When his hand reached around her waist, and he pulled her into his arms, Trina panicked.

“Bella. You’re so lovely,” he said again, his lips set close to her ear. “We could make beautiful love.”

Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

She put a hand on his chest. “I don’t think . . .”

“No one needs to know. Just you, and me. I won’t tell your husband and you won’t tell my wife.”

Trina froze, her gaze moving to the hand she had on his chest.

Fedor’s ring stared her in the eye.

She pushed. “I’m not.” Oh, God. “But you are? You’re married?”

Dante didn’t stop smiling. “Don’t deny. It’s okay. I don’t care.”

Trina ducked out from under his arm and into the pouring rain.

Only then did Dante’s grin fall.

“I’m not married, asshole!” she said in English. And because it sounded even harsher in Russian, she tossed that language at him, too.

“My condolences to your wife,” she yelled before running to the closest exit from the square.

He didn’t chase. Then again, he wouldn’t have to, since he knew where her hotel was.

For twenty minutes, she zigzagged through the never-ending maze of streets until she found a familiar path.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and cussed all the way back to the hotel.





Chapter Three



She lugged her overstuffed suitcase down two flights of stairs since the small hotel didn’t have an elevator.

“Mrs. Petrov . . . you’re leaving us?”

“I am. I’m going to need a water taxi to the airport.”

“You’re booked through the end of the week.”

She eyed the door. “Change of plans,” she said in English before switching to Italian.

The older man typed a few things into his computer before pulling up an invoice for her to sign. When she did, she once again caught Fedor’s ring out of the corner of her eye.

This is ridiculous.

“Shall I call for a taxi now?”

Her gaze fell on her suitcase, then the ring.

She held up a hand. “Hold off. I need to do something first.”

“Oh . . .”

“Watch my suitcase. I’ll be back.”

She didn’t run, but it was one of the fastest determined walks she’d done since her days as a flight attendant when she was late for work.

Luciano’s was only an hour into their day, and only one table was occupied.

“You’re early today,” Luciano greeted her, a kiss to each cheek.