AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Another knock at the door, and Koffler shows her in. He positions himself behind her, standing with his legs wide apart.
“Buongiorno, signorina. Tutto bene?” I greet her formally— I don’t want Koffler getting any ideas— and I indicate toward the chair in front of my desk.
“Bene, grazie,” she smiles.
She has a beautiful smile.
It curves her lips and lights her blue eyes.
“Please, take a look at these.” I tear my gaze from her and slide the folder forward.
She turns the pictures over, one by one, screwing up her face in concentration. With a soft sigh, she shakes her pretty head. “I’m sorry, but the dude who scammed me isn’t one of these…”
“You’re sure?” I rub at the back of my neck.
“Absolutely. The scammer must have had bad acne once… his face is full of pock marks.” She shudders. “None of these guys fit…”
I take the folder from her. “Well, at least we’ve ruled these men out. Thanks for coming in, Miss Martinez. You’ve been most helpful.”
“Shall I show the signorina out?” Koffler offers after taking the folder from me and locking it in the cabinet.
“It’s alright. I’m about to head out myself.” I get to my feet at the same time as Sefi.
With my hand at the small of her back, I usher her from the room, into the corridor, past the officer at the front desk and then into the calle. “I promised I’d show you around the Rialto neighborhood, bambina,” I whisper in her ear. “Marco will meet us at the restaurant…”* * *After we’ve stopped for a quick coffee, I take Sefi to the top of the Fondaco Dei Tedeschi. Now a swanky department store, the building dates from the early 16th Century and was once the headquarters of the city’s German merchants. We stand side-by-side on the roof terrace. The murky mists of earlier have dissipated and we can see right across the city toward the distant snow-capped mountains… the pre-Alps and the Dolomites.
“Oh, my God, the panorama is amazing.” She grabs hold of my arm.
I brush a kiss to her cheek and inhale her floral scent. “You’re like a breath of fresh air, bambina.”
“You mean I’m a dumbass for getting so excited about the view?” She catches her lip with her pearly white teeth.
I look her in the eye. “Not at all. Your enthusiasm is refreshing.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads through me.
She’s sweet and vulnerable like Marco.
I straighten my spine.
Can’t let her affect me like that.
Our arrangement, if she wants to continue with it, is purely for fun, sexy times. Nothing more. Nothing less. I tear my gaze away from her and start to point out the landmarks below.
Ten minutes or so later, we head for the elevator. “What’s Marco doing this morning?” she inquires.
“He’s hanging with his parents but will meet us shortly.”
I tell her about his dad’s condition while we ride down to the ground floor. She expresses her concern, and her genuine sincerity sends a rush of warmth through me.
I like this girl.
I like her a lot.
And not just in a sexual way.
Be careful, Alessio. She’s not for keeping.
We jostle through the crowd of tourists on the Rialto Bridge, stopping at the portico in the center for her to take pictures of the Grand Canal.
She snaps a selfie of the two of us and asks if I’d mind her sending it to her sister.
“Go ahead.” I’m impressed she’s bothered to request permission.
I take her hand and lead her past the jewelry stores lining the sides of the structure. It’s just a short walk to the market square. The stalls are closed now, on account of it being Sunday, but I urge her to visit during the week. “It’s where Venetians shop for fresh produce.”
We cross a small wooden bridge which leads directly to the entrance of one of Marco and my favorite restaurants, a quaint, fresco-lined former post office dating from 1500.
He’s sitting at a table in the enclosed garden room and stands up as we approach. He greets us and pulls out a chair for Sefi, before bending and kissing her on the cheek.
Her smile would illuminate the world. “This place is so cozy and romantic,” she says, gazing around. “You guys are spoiling me.”
Marco hands her a menu. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
“Ditto.” I signal our waiter.
“Any luck with the mug shots?” Marco shoots me a glance.
I shake my head. “We’ll find the bastard. In due course,” I say with more confidence than I feel. The ring of silence, perpetuated by threats and violence, around the boss of the Syndicate and his cronies, is a thorn in my side. I give an involuntary wince.
Sefi shrugs. “I just wish I could have been of more help.”
“Please, don’t worry about it,” I say. “Let’s enjoy our meal…”
And that’s precisely what we do. Conversation between the three of us is easy. Sefi asks about the traditional Venetian dishes we order, the bean soup with pasta starter, followed by the main course of liver served with polenta. She’s not a fan of liver but agrees to try it, and I like the fact that she’s adventurous.
