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“Agent Caine, I promised you a night out in Venice. Adam and Louisa are all for it. I’ve already made a reservation.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Harry’s Bar, Calle Vallaresso
Venice, Italy
Saturday Night
Harry’s Bar was a hole-in-the-wall that had proudly sat right on the Grand Canal since 1931. It
was arguably the most famous establishment in all of Venice, best known for its Bellinis—prosecco with white peach puree. Mike couldn’t wait.
Nicholas was wearing a gorgeous gray cashmere jacket, slacks, and a crisp white shirt with a black tie, sinfully soft black Italian loafers on his feet, all purchased that afternoon from Armani in the Marzaria near the Rialto Bridge, close to Harry’s Bar and to their hotel. He’d had to admit his go-bag had let him down. To make matters worse, there was no Barney’s in Venice, so what was he to do?
After he’d been outfitted, he and the salesman had talked Mike into a new little black dress. She’d put her foot down when the salesman had presented her with four-inch stilettos to go with the dress. She held firm, nope, it was her biker boots. Didn’t Nicholas agree?
He agreed, laughing. If the biker boots were good enough for the president of the United States, they were good enough for Venice.
The moment they stepped through the door of Harry’s Bar, the hostess was at his side, greeting him like she would a movie star, and Mike couldn’t blame her for that. She even waved away the maître d’ and led them herself to a prized table, right in the center of the room. She whisked away the RESERVED sign. She kept sneaking looks at Nicholas, probably trying to figure out who he was.
Mike realized she was surrounded by beautiful people and some not so beautiful, but all were dressed to the hilt, diamonds flashing. Mike counted three celebrities she recognized, walking nonchalantly across the small room to head upstairs. One of the men paused, looked directly at her, and smiled, gave her a small salute.
“Isn’t that Mark Ruffalo?”
“Yes, I think it is. And Stanley Tucci was behind him. They just did a movie together.”
She fiddled with the napkin. “I should have bought those mile-high killer stilettos, not been stubborn and worn my biker boots.”
“Nah, those boots nearly brought Ruffalo over here to slaver on you.”
Mike hated to wave that lovely image away. “I wonder what he would do if my mom—the Gorgeous Rebecca—was sitting here. He’d probably crawl over and pant like a puppy at her feet.”
Nicholas thought Ruffalo had looked at Mike as if he wanted to sling her over his shoulder and take her to bed, but he kept his mouth shut. Her hair wasn’t in a ponytail this evening, no it was shining and loose around her shoulders, one side hooked back with a gold clip. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. His eyes never left hers. “Actually, now that I think about it, that hour we spent in the boat waiting for Rafael to come back to fetch us—the clothes you were wearing then were stunning as well.”
She spurted out a laugh just as a waiter delivered their Bellinis.
They toasted each other and sipped. It tasted like ambrosia and Mike wanted to drink it straight down and order another one, fast. She suspected that after a couple of these, she could fly over the Grand Canal, swoop down and kiss Louisa and Adam in their gondola.
“I called Nigel, confessed to him I had to shop at Armani, but all he wanted to talk about was how you and I saved Washington, D.C. He said the news was blaring out how an apocalyptic storm slated to hit the city had people panicked, trying to drive inland, resulting in horrific traffic. And then it was simply gone, disappeared. And no one could explain it. I asked him why he thought you and I were responsible, and he laughed at me.”
“And you’ll tell him all about our adventures when we get home, won’t you?”
“I don’t plan to, but Nigel has his ways of learning anything he wants to know. Then I’ll have to bribe him not to tell my parents or my grandfather.”
“Well, I’m going to tell my folks, not all of it, but the parts that make us look good and not like idiots. My dad will be impressed, and my mother will wonder what shape my nails are in.”
Nicholas ordered them another round of Bellinis.
“I wish Adam and Louisa were here. Do you think they’d give Adam a Bellini since he isn’t twenty-one?”
“It’s Italy, Mike. Besides, when I asked him and Louisa to join us, they both shook their heads. Turns out Louisa had made him a deal: he’d go running with her and she’d pay extra for a long gondola in the moonlight, and sing him arias. I think Louisa even talked him into leaving his cell phone in the room.”
• • •
