Read An Apartment in Venice Online
Authors: Marlene Hill
An Apartment in Venice
ALSO BY MARLENE HILL:
Alone with Michelangelo:
A Woman Follows Her Dreams to Italy
Last Fling in Venice
Copyright © 2013 by Marlene Hill
All rights reserved.
Smashwords edition
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover art by Kelly Kievit
Published by:
Marlene Hill Taevs Marketing
Milwaukie, Oregon
Loads of thanks to my magnificent, dynamic, inciteful and supportive Tuesday-critique partners:
Jennifer Fulford, D'Norgia Price and Linda Smith
To Mary Alice Moore, my ever supportive Monday-lunch critiquer.
To Catherine Wilson, once again a goddess of patience in guiding me through design and production decisions.
To Kelly Kievit, who created my beautiful cover, depicting the mysterious, seductive essence of Venice.
To Dustin Keys, always there for me to sort out myriad techie problems.
And tante grazie to Elena Di Mattia of Pordenone, Italia for monitoring my Italian!
Contents
“Come in,” came a sing-song falsetto voice with at least two vowels stringing out the last word.
It was late afternoon and Giulia couldn’t put this encounter off any longer. She’d seen Oliver Ogle, Human Resources Director, only once, but without any doubt, she had recognized a sleaze. She lifted her chin, threw her shoulders back and grabbed the handle.
Last week at the orientation meeting for new instructors, he had looked soft, pudgy and seemed harmless. But as he explained his role as the overseas representative of the University of Maryland, he’d made slimy remarks about the lovelies working on the post who would need
his
services.
And there he sat like a fat toad. For an instant, she imagined him zapping her with a long tongue as if she were a helpless insect.
A desk is between us. Good.
She stepped to the large, metal government-issue desk and put down two sheets of paper.
“Mr. Ogle, I’m Giulia Cavinato. Here’s the information you need for my personnel file.” She turned to leave.
“Are those all yours?” he said, focusing on her breasts.
“Pardon?” she asked and barely stopped herself from pulling closed the blue paisley vest she wore over a long-sleeved blouse.
“I said, are those jugs
all
yours?”
Giulia was tempted to put her hands on her hips but didn’t want to appear defiant or girlish. She drew herself up to her full five feet five and one-half inches. “Mr. Ogle,” she pronounced in a soft, low tone.
He leaned in closer to hear her voice.
“I hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors I’ve heard about you, but—”
“Oh? What have you heard about me?” He leaned back looking pleased.
“That you use crude language with the women you’ve been hired to serve.” She backed toward the door.
And you’re a dirty old man.
“Now, now missy. Don’t take me wrong. Come sit. I’ll only keep you a minute.”
“You will not keep me here one more second,” she said, surprised at the vicious tone in her voice.
Faster than she’d expected him to move, he came around his desk and grabbed her upper arm. In a patronizing tone, he said, “Calm down. We need to get acquainted, that’s all.”
“Let me go.”
He held on.
“I
said
let me go.” But he gripped harder. She twisted toward him, kneed him in the groin and ran out the door.
That was a clever thing to do my first week here.
As a newly-accredited Assistant Professor of English, she hoped to work on this base near Venice for a long time. This job would make her dream of living in Venice come true.
No one was around as she raced through the empty corridor, shoved open the outer door and dashed down the steps of the admin building straight into a large officer.
“Oof!” He put his hands on her elbows to steady her.
“Excuse me!”
“Can I help you?”
Her face was flushed but she said, “I’m fine but need to be going.” She sucked in a breath and pulled away from him.
“Wait a sec. You don’t seem fine. Could you use a coffee or maybe something stronger?”
“I… I don’t think so.” But she trembled and was short of breath.
“You’re new here aren’t you? A new professor in the adult education program?”
“Assistant Professor.” Looking down, feeling defeated, she added, “After today, if there’s a probation period in the fine print of my contract, I’ll be shipped out.”
“Let me guess. You’ve just come from Oliver Ogle. Right?”
She looked up in astonishment. He was so close she had to tilt her head back to see his face. That’s when heat streaked along her spine. She hoped he hadn’t picked up on it. That heat struck a spark long buried inside but a spark she intended to keep well hidden.
“What happened?”
He’d spoken quietly and it took a second before she could decipher his words. “I brought information he needed for my file.” She sighed. “I’m not sure it makes any difference what happened. There were no witnesses.”
“Oh, but it does. Did he make vulgar remarks implying you’d make a tasty sex toy?”
“Something like that.” She wasn’t about to repeat Ogle’s words. “I should have left right then, but I called him on it. He grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go and… well… I sort of kicked him.”
“In the balls, I hope,” the tall officer said.
She nodded and a small grin crept across her lips.
He laughed and then stopped abruptly. “Come on. We’re going back in there while he’s enjoying the aftermath of your visit.”
Giulia jerked back. “It will be his word against mine.”
“I’ll be with you. You need to confront him now. You know, the get-back-on-the-horse thing. And someone needs to be a witness to
that,
at least.” He took her hand. “Ready?”
His huge hand felt warm and strong. She looked up again and nodded.
As they walked to the building, he said, “My name is Chuck Novak. And you are?”
“Giulia Cavinato.”
“Italian?
“American. Italian parents.”
They were at Ogle’s door. Giulia took hold of herself again as Chuck knocked. No answer. He pounded harder. “Oliver, are you in there?”
“Go away. I’m busy. Make an appointment.”
“Sorry, this can’t wait.” Chuck turned the handle, but the door was locked. “I think you know me, Oliver. Major General Novak. I must see you now.”
They heard a click and Chuck opened the door. Oliver was limping back to his chair behind the desk. With his back still to them, he said, “What’s so damned important, Novak?”
“She is.”
Oliver’s head spun around to see Giulia. He plopped onto his chair with a grimace. His plump neck was flushed; blotchy red spots had appeared on his face. As he brushed strands of ashen-colored hair across a bald spot, he spit out, “What’s she doing here?”
The ugly smirk on his face told her he was someone to be more than wary of. He could even be dangerous.
Another woman user.
She clenched her fists and felt her insides start to boil.
“We’re going to have a little chat,” Chuck said. “I have Ms. Cavinato’s story. I want to hear yours.”
“What did this floozy have to say?”
“Tell me your version first,” Chuck said.
“Oh, so you’re judge, jury and executioner?”
“May-Be,” Chuck said. His menacing growl startled Giulia. He’d been so gentle with her. “I have to warn you, Ogle, she’s not the first woman on this base who’s complained about you. Let’s hear your side.”
“She sashays into my office arching her back to show me her boobs. She’s just a flirt. Then—”
“Where were you when she came in?”
“Right here where I am now.”
“Okay. What happened next?”
“I complimented her. She took offense. I asked her to calm down, and she assaulted me.”
“How did she assault you? Did she leap over the desk and punch you?”
“Don’t get smart with me Mr. Military Man.”
“Well, Oliver,” Chuck said in the same ominous tone, “what
was
the nature of her assault?”
“Don’t want to talk about it. It’s over.”
“Mister Ogle,” Chuck said as if the word mister put a bad taste in his mouth. “As you’ve often said yourself, we all need to work together on this post. Is there any way we can call a truce?”
“Sure. All she has to do is apologize.”
Giulia said nothing. Chuck glanced at her. In trim navy slacks, pale blue, long-sleeved blouse buttoned to her collar bone and covered by a loose vest, her small body was rigid. Fury glared from her extraordinary eyes—one dark espresso and one piercing blue. Imperceptibly, she shook her head. Even without that slight movement, Chuck guessed she’d never back down to this bastard.
“Are you willing to apologize to her?”
“Hell, no. I did nothing wrong. She jumped to conclusions.”
“I see,” Chuck said. “Guess we have nothing more to do here…
today.
Thanks for your time.”
As they walked away from his office, they heard the lock click into place. But they didn’t hear Ogle growl, “Payback time, missy,” as he opened her personnel file.
“When I get back to my office, I’ll write up both stories and—”
“And nothing,” she said. “Without a witness, it’s a stalemate.” She muttered under her breath, “But I still have to deal with him.”
“You’re right, but you won’t deal with him alone. It’s time things change around here for Oliver Ogle. If I can’t be with you, someone else will.”
They walked to the point where she’d run into him. “And now, how about that coffee?”
“No thank you. I appreciate your support, but—”
“Will you come if I promise not to compliment you?”
She hesitated and almost smiled. “If you put it that way, why not?”
They walked across Via al di Moro—one of the few streets on the post without an American name. He led her to a new coffee shop that sat between a Burger King and Taco Bell, only two of the several fine dining establishments on the post. Chuck kept up a running chatter on the way. He opened the door for her and said, “What would you like? Regular Drip? French Press? Latte? Cappuccino? We’ve been longing for decent coffee on this post for ages, and some of us have been over-loading on caffeine.” Lowering his voice, he said in a self-mocking tone, “After careful research, I’ve found the French Press the best.”
“Ordinarily, I’d go for French press, too. But something soft and creamy sounds good to me right now. I’ll have a cappuccino.”
Talk about soft and creamy, he thought, I could devour her on the spot.
“Guess you don’t always worry about proprieties, right?” he teased.
“Do you think what I did to Oliver proper?”
“Damn straight I do. Would you grab that empty table in the corner while I place our orders?”
* * *
Chuck watched her move across the room. She was a slender little thing, but under that straight-laced outfit, he had no doubt voluptuous curves waited for someone’s hands. Maybe his. And he’d bet his brand-new Rossignol T-4 Skis she was
not
a flirt. With those soft, dark curls framing her face, he could see why Ogle might put her in that category. Obviously, the old buzzard hadn’t missed her shape beneath her buttoned-up outfit. Did she believe that vest camouflage really worked? Funny how women seemed to think they could hide their body from men that way. Only those damned burkas could do that.
This wasn’t the first time Chuck had noticed her on the post, but he felt lucky to have her run straight into his arms. She looked too young, but after spending time with glossy, gorgeous-to-their-eyeballs Italian women, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her freshness.
“Sorry you had to face Oliver the Ogre so soon after arriving,” Chuck said, joining her at the small round table.
“Ogre he is,” she said.
“Look, Giulia—may I call you Giulia rather than Ms. Cavinato?”
She nodded. “And what shall I call you? Major General Novak is kind of a mouthful.” For the first time since they met, she grinned with genuine enthusiasm.
“It is, isn’t it. But it comes in handy sometimes. Please call me Chuck. What I started to say is that everyone knows about Ogle but not how to get rid of him aside from pushing him back under his bridge with no way out.”
“That would be super. But aren’t trolls the ones who live under bridges?”
“Hell, I don’t know. What I do know is, he needs to go.”
A waiter brought their coffees. Giulia noticed small spoons were served with her cappuccino and his press. They were on an American base, but it was Italy after all. In most shops in the States, she usually had to beg for a spoon and then got a plastic one.
“What do you teach?” he asked as if he couldn’t find out.
“English Literature and Business English. And you?”
“I do a little of everything. Occasionally, I get to supervise pilots in the 173rd Airborne stationed here.”
“Is that the group that operates like the Navy SEALS and must be combat ready at a moment’s notice?”
“Some are. In the Air Force, the combat-ready personnel are called Combat Controllers. Our motto is
First There.
Most of our assignments are rescue missions.”
“But can’t those be a lot like combat?”
“Oh yeah.” He leaned back, and his eyes searched hers. “How is it you know about the 173rd? Most people hear about the SEALS but not much about Special Ops in other services. Obviously their PR is better.”
“Supposedly the SEALS try to keep their covert work
covert,
but that’s only what I’ve read—mostly through fiction. You can learn a lot, though, from well-researched novels.” She squared her shoulders as if expecting he might doubt “facts” learned from fiction.
He found her protective attitude toward literature charming. Hell, everything about her was appealing, but he wanted to change the subject anyway. “Did you grow up, like me, speaking Italian as well as English?” He sipped his coffee and watched her.
“Yes. My parents came from small towns in the Veneto north of Venice.” She put her cup down and said, “Wait a minute. How is it you grew up speaking Italian? Isn’t Novak a Czech name?”
“It is. But Mother was of Italian descent.” For a moment his voice darkened, then he continued. “With a name like Cavinato, you won’t have trouble fitting into Italy. Or do you live here on the post?”
“I’m in a pensione in Vicenza. And off the base I speak only Italian because it seems locals don’t have much use for people from out here.”
“You’ve got that right. Sometimes the young bucks go into town and forget their manners. And proper Vicentini resent having their perfect city disturbed. So, what part of the Veneto are your folks from?”
“Mom’s parents are from a little town north of Venice called Vittorio Veneto. Do you know it?”
“Had supper there last Sunday night.” And his grin revealed a sexy dimple on the right side of his mouth.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“Is that a place people go for a special dinner?”
“Probably not. But there’s an excellent
trattoria
specializing in venison. A friend and I usually stop on our way back from ski-patrol duty.”
“At Cortina d’Ampezzo?” Giulia asked.
“Yeah. You know it?”
“Mm-hmm. My twin brothers and I often went there while visiting our grandparents.”