Nina Singh - Swept Away By The Venetian Millionaire

“It’s not over yet, however.”

She supposed he had a point. And she could have done worse than meeting this charming, charismatic man. Though she would have preferred a much different set of circumstances leading to said meeting.

She watched as he poured more coffee into both their cups. What if they’d met under different circumstances? What if somehow she’d made this journey years ago as a single woman? Or perhaps with a bunch of girlfriends? She imagined wandering into his studio purely by coincidence, simply to admire a local artist’s work. What might such a different introduction have led to? Would they have hit it off? She wasn’t the type of woman to typically attract a man like the one she sat eating with right now. But maybe, just maybe, he would have seen something in her.

Who was she kidding? Vito Rameri probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance under normal circumstances. It took literally falling into a canal for someone like her to be noticed by the likes of him.

She wasn’t the striking, alluring type. In fact, it had taken her by surprise two years ago when the outgoing, successful, not to mention strikingly handsome son of her uncle’s business partner had first asked her out. She’d almost been too stunned to accept his invitation to a leisurely pasta lunch in Boston’s North End. To her further shock, Matt seemed to have genuinely enjoyed her company that afternoon. So much so that he’d asked her out again before their lunch was even over.

Maya had hoped she might have finally found the man who would help her create the kind of future she so desperately craved. A future with a family of her own. Not one she’d been thrust into after tragedy had left her orphaned and alone. One she actually felt she belonged in and fit into.

But she had to admit that, deep down, she’d sensed something wasn’t right about the whole thing. Even on that first lunch date, the vibe between her and Matt had seemed forced. Rather than giving her the future she so desperately wanted, she’d known somehow Matt was going to let her down. Or vice versa.

Maya had ignored the warning bells that seemed to go off every step of the way. Those bells had morphed into all-out ringing alarms when Matt proposed. In many ways, he was too much for her. Too outgoing, too talkative, too everything. They’d both known and done their best to pretend not to. She’d also ignored her suspicions that she’d been nothing more to Matt than a convenient way to present himself as a settled and serious career professional rather than the philandering party man he really was. Again, she’d foolishly brushed it all aside.

She looked up to find Vito studying her. “You appear to have drifted off thousands of miles. Back to Boston, perhaps?”

Maya gave a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Just thinking about some things, is all.”

“I saw.” He leaned back, inhaled. “Did anyone tell you that you have the most transparent face?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s almost as if your features completely alter as your thoughts do. It’s difficult to explain.”

As far as lines went, that was a new one. If Vito was trying to come on to her, this was the most unusual way she’d ever heard.

“No. I can honestly say that no one has ever told me that before.”

“It’s true. Someone who creates art for a living can see it clearly.”

Yeah, that was definitely not any kind of flirtation on his part. “Well, I think you may be the first real artist I’ve met. No one’s actually commented on my face that I can recall.”

She saw his hand move ever so slightly before he curled his fingers into his palm. For an insane moment, she thought he might have been about to touch her. She imagined him trailing a finger along her jawline, cupping her cheek in his palm. A shiver ran down her spine.

The effect of his gaze was hypnotic. He wasn’t so much looking at her as discovering, exploring her features. The air around them suddenly grew thick. In that moment, Maya had the strangest notion that she somehow knew this man. Had known him forever. She’d seen him in her dreams, heard his voice in her imaginings.

Or maybe she’d actually hit her head on the side of the gondola while toppling over the side.

“I have a confession to make,” he stated. His tone as he spoke the words took her breath away. “I’m afraid you may not like it.”

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