Venice Nights (8 page)

“Do not interrupt me,” Jacob growled, his voice low and dangerous. She fell silent, crossing her arms against her chest. “I want to know what happened. From the beginning.” I opened my mouth to fill him, but he finished with, “From Blanka.”

Blanka swept her bangs from her eyes, stealing a glance at me and Isabella before squeaking. “Me?”

“Yes.” Picking up on the tension, and the silent threat Isabella was sending Blanka with her eyes, Jacob added, “Please speak freely. Your job is not at risk.”

I relaxed, mentally pumping my fists.
Yay!

Despite Jacob’s assurance, Blanka was not completely at ease. She had Isabella hate-glaring at her left, and Jacob’s unreadable face in front of her. I moved to where she stood, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She looked at me, chin trembling, and I gave her a nod. “It’s okay.”

Her big eyes clouded with emotion, and she swallowed slowly.

She turned back to Jacob. “I began breakfast as you requested,” she began, her voice stronger. “Miss Montgomery came down and we started talking, and I lost track of time. Ms. Moretti came in, and since I was late getting you your breakfast, she fired me.” Blanka stopped, wiping her palms on the front of her pants. “That’s what happened, Mr. Whitmore.”

No one replied for a long moment, and I batted my gaze from Jacob, who gave nothing away, to Blanka, who was losing confidence with the lack of response, and ended with Isabella, who was chomping at the bit. Itching to say something.

Screw it.

I took a step toward Jacob. “It was totally my fault. Blanka shouldn’t be fired because of me. She
can’t
be.”

My emboldened response was contagious, and Isabella came forward too. “Can’t be? Who’s in charge here? You or Jacob?”

I wanted to go back and forth with her until the ridiculousness of her actions sunk in, but I ignored her and looked to Jacob. He was the final say. All I could do was hope he would make the right choice.

Jacob rose, walking to the front of the desk. He perched on the edge, looking at Blanka first.

“You still have a job, but please be mindful of the requirements set forth by Isabella and myself.”

Blanka and I let out a single sigh of relief. Just as I was about to hug her, Jacob interrupted.

“Leave us, Blanka.”

My stomach dropped.

Uh oh.

Blanka left without a second glance, closing the door behind her. I had a feeling she would not have her ear pressed to the door, listening for what happened next. If she were smart, she was putting as much distance between herself and ground zero as possible.

Jacob’s eyes shot back and forth between Isabella and me. “I want a truce.” When my face scrunched in confusion, he elaborated. “I want you both to shake hands, sing Kumbaya, whatever you need to do to make this right.”

“You can’t be serious,” Isabella said with a haughty flick of her wrist, dismissing the notion. “She has undermined me from the moment we met—”

“That’s not true and you know it!” I snapped, whipping to face the woman. “I’ve been nothing but kind and respectful to you and all that’s done is nearly getting an innocent girl fired.”

“Innocent?” Isabella shook her head like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. “She’s about as innocent as you are.”

“And what is that supposed to—”

“Enough!” Jacob roared, his deep voice silencing our argument. Everything that was not nailed down trembled. I had seen the look on his face before; the darkness in his glare, the disgust in the snarl in his lips. It was the look he had when he found out that I betrayed him by striking a deal with Rachel Laraby.

“Blanka is not fired, Isabella,” Jacob said, sounding each word out, like he was trying to make her understand that it was no longer under debate.

Isabella did not relent. “But—”

“Leave us.”

I did not turn my eyes from Jacob, but I felt every dagger Isabella had thrown at me before she stomped from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Once we were alone I exhaled, the toxicity level dropping until I did not feel like I was about to step into a boxing ring. Jacob had also visibly relaxed, the angry lines in his face easing.

I came forward, reaching for him with a smile. “Thanks.”

He dismissed my touch, maintaining the distance between us. “I told you to stay out of it, Leila.”

I jutted my lip stubbornly. “You know me, Jacob. I’m not gonna stand by while someone gets fired because they served breakfast at 10:05 instead of 10. And not to mention—”

“Stop talking.”

My lips curled into a snarl. “Excuse me? We’re not in the bedroom. You can’t just—”

“Actually, I can,” he said darkly. “Isabella is in charge in my absence. Period.”

My lips worked double time, but I did not know what to say. How could he side with her, or even give someone that evil power in the first place? There was more to this. More to them. There had to be.

“What’s the story with you and Isabella?”

The look of pure rage that streaked across his face made my stomach drop.

“That’s none of your business.” He circled his desk and stopped at the chair, lowering himself. He flipped open a leather organizer, eyes on its contents.

"That'll be all, Miss Montgomery."

Anger choked me, but I clenched my jaw, turning on my heels. I paused at the door. Maybe he did not have anything left to say to me, but I was not done.

"Thank you, m'lord," I said sarcastically. His eyes rose to meet mine as I bowed at the waist.

I snapped upright and left the door wide open, storming toward the bedroom.

I need to get out of the house
, I thought, finding my purse.
Before I say something I’ll regret.

Chapter Nine

I ducked my head to my chest as I stepped out of the cab, then snapped it back in place when I remembered I was alone. No Jacob to scope out the area, making sure there were no photogs.

I glanced over the rim of my Ray-bans, eyes sweeping the area. Unless paparazzi were using kids to do their dirty work, the coast was clear.

I paused in the street, watching them play on the cobblestone. A soccer ball skittered in front of me, stopping within my reach. I leaned down and picked it up, holding it out to a boy that barely reached my thighs.

“
Grazie
,” he grinned, taking the ball and going back to his game.

I watched the children play a little while longer, then turned toward the cafe, only to stop again. A group of men were huddled around a small iron table a few feet from me, playing checkers. They murmured back and forth, probably trading barbs. So at ease, at home.

My eyes shot to the corner, a florist outside consulting with an older woman. The customer paid no mind to the rest of the world; inspecting sunflowers and whispering to them like they kept her secrets.

Everything was so blissfully relaxed—and in my sweatshirt, flowered scarf, and harried expression, I stuck out like a sore thumb.

The street around me was so effortlessly beautiful, like the lazy blades of a pinwheel. I was so busy trying to be invisible that I missed the magic all around me. I was so nervous about the paps dominating my life that I was forgetting to actually
live
.

I closed my eyes, inhaling, then exhaling, letting the air wash over me.

“Beautiful day, no?” A familiar voice murmured behind me.

I whirled toward it and threw my arms around Allegra’s neck, squeezing tight.

“It’s so good to see you, Al!”

After I nearly squeezed all the air from her lungs, she held me at arm’s length. She cupped my cheek and I closed my eyes, the gentle touch reminding me of my mother’s touch. Making me miss home and normalcy.

My eyes sprung open. My hood had fallen, my scarf askew.

I yanked away from her, snatching the hood back up.

Her dark eyebrows rose. “I’d ask if you were okay, but that’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it?”

I fiddled with the drawstring of my hoodie. “I am okay.” I could not hold up the ruse, my face crumbling.

Her arms brought me back in for a second hug, letting me cry on her shoulder. I breathed in her smell; the warmth of leather and soap with a hint of flowers. When the tears slowed to a trickle, I pulled back, wiping my eyes. I was not sure what to expect when I looked up at her. Would I find sympathy in her dark eyes, considering she had been in my position years ago, but the Whitmore she loved chose someone else? How sympathetic would she be given I got my happily ever after and was crying about it?

My eyes skimmed the lines of Allegra’s face, the creases deepening in her forehead. Her green eyes were narrowed in...concern! I breathed a sigh of relief.

A wary smile fluttered across her lips as she steered me inside the cafe. “Let’s get some caffeine in our bellies and you can tell me what’s going on.”

When I stepped into the cafe, my face fell. I had expected something a little more rustic, considering the quaint exterior of the building. It was painted a muted gray that matched the cloudy sky, and scuffed wooden tables marked the outside. Gathered around those tables were modestly dressed patrons, sipping their drinks.

Now inside the restaurant, I felt severely underdressed.

The interior of the cafe was contemporary and warm with long, mahogany tables meant for family-style seating. The tabletops were covered with white linen and flowers, probably from the florist at the corner. The walls were lined with black and white abstract photographs. There was a large serving station past the tables. The area behind it was covered in a variety of spices and teas and coffee beans, a wait staff dressed in head-to-toe black, taking orders.

I pushed back my hood, attempting to smooth my wild curls as I followed Allegra’s lead.

“If I would have known we were going somewhere nice, I would have dressed differently.”

“You look fine,” she assured me, patting my shoulder.

I did not remotely believe her.
She
looked amazing. Her short, salt and pepper locks were held back by a golden headband that matched her blouse. Her glossy top was tucked into denim jeans and the ankle boots on her feet turned up the chic factor.
I
looked like I was headed to the gym in a sweatshirt and t-shirt beneath, too lazy to swap my jeans for sweatpants. My curly locks stood on end, disobeying efforts to curtail the just-stuck-my-finger-in-an-electric-socket look I was rocking. My oversized shades were not nearly oversized enough.

Allegra ordered two cafes, glanced at my blanched expression, and changed it to two doubles. She shepherded me to a table away from the bustle and smiling conversations.

I dropped onto the bench, forcing my eyes forward and not around, finding every dark corner. I focused on Allegra.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I said. “I know it’s kind of last minute.”

“You sounded like you could use a friend,” she said, her eyes still warm with concern. “I’m glad you called me.”

Her face was the first that popped into my head when I left the villa. It took me an hour in a taxi, a water bus ride, and another taxi ride to get to the small town Allegra lived in, but it was enough time to get a hold of myself. To squash the overwhelming urge to cry every time I opened my mouth.

My best friend was usually the person I called after an argument with a boyfriend; when I was so angry and hurt that I could not see straight. But my best friend was a million miles away in the States—and she had barely digested the fact that Jacob and I were a couple in the first place. There was only one person that I trusted that was local, and knew firsthand how frustrating Jacob could be.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” I wrung my hands, not meeting her eye. I knew she would not pressure me for details, or ask me leading questions. Just like the last catastrophe we faced when Jacob and I broke up, she waited patiently for me to open up and spill my guts.

The barista brought our drinks and I wasted no time digging in.

“So Jacob and I are a couple,” I said, after my hearty gulp. “Officially.”

“That’s great news,” Allegra said brightly. She took a sip and added, “You’re good for him.”

I felt a rash of pride at her words and took another swig. “The paparazzi seem to think he’s going through some sort of quarter-life crisis.”

“Your career is one thing, but since when do you give an audience to the things those people say when it comes to your personal life?”

“Since I no longer have a personal life,” I sighed. “The last time I had the balls to actually go online, they had tracked down someone I knew in high school.” I glared into my mug, remembering how I’d almost hurled my iPad across the room when I saw who they found to shine a light on what I was like.

Marissa Scott could hardly be called a friend. When she came back from summer break twenty pounds lighter, she had forgotten every friendship bracelet, every secret exchanged.

You would not know it from her gushing answers. She told them my favorite color was purple (not even close), and made up some story about how we used to drive out to the country and talk about being famous someday.

The blog ended with a tease—their next feature was with someone that knew me from college, who preferred to remain anonymous.

“I’m not even the same person I was a month ago,” I grumbled, pushing a sugar packet around the table with my pointer. “But all these people are coming out of the woodwork, trying to say who I am.”

“And who are you, Leila?”

I pondered that for a minute. “I’m...me?” I said with a shrug. “I usually say what’s on my mind and it usually gets me in trouble. I don’t give up on things easy and I’ll do just about anything not to admit defeat. I jump in headfirst and think about consequences later.” I trailed off, even though it had been a complete statement. A complete truth. Still, my last sentence echoed in my ears. I did not look before I leaped—was that why I was in over my head with Jacob? With the press?

“Everything is happening so fast.” I gripped my cup, ignoring the discomfort as the scalding porcelain branded my palm. “I was just his assistant before. Don’t get me wrong—I love him, but there are all these things expected of me now. To smile even though I know the pictures are going to be used to dig even deeper into my past and find out every secret I’ve buried. I’m supposed to stand aside and look away if something happens at the villa that I disagree with—”