“Sophia, please, stop this,” he hugged her in his arms, heavyhearted.

After a few moments, a frown appeared on his brow. “But this isn’t the eye of the storm, is it? I know what is making you so confused.” He curled his fingers under her chin. He lifted her face to his, took the handkerchief from her hand, and he dried her tears. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he finally said. “You don’t know what to do with him.”

“Who?” she asked, disconcerted. “Ethan?”

“No.” His knowing gaze pierced her. “MacCraig. Alistair Connor.” He sneered at her and jutted his chin toward the beautiful and fresh white roses in a crystal vase on her shelf. “That big hunk has been stalking you every other day. He has stirred your feelings back to life, hasn’t he? He is the one for you, Sophia. Trust me.”

“He’s dangerous,” she sighed. “Trouble.”

“Oh, love… What is life without a bit of danger, of risk? What are you afraid of, Sophia? Afraid of loving again? Is that why you’re wasting your time with Ethan?”


Italy, Venice, Marco Polo Airport.

Friday, February 5th, 2010.

2.10 p.m.

The Hotel Cipriani’s assistant greeted Ethan and Sophia at the Marco Polo Airport to escort them to the pier and transport them in the hotel’s private boat.

Set on the water, the timeless beauty of Venice awakened all of Sophia’s senses. She returned to Venice time and again, and it always brought new and different experiences.

Sophia sighed as she watched the breathtaking sight of opulent palazzi, majestic churches, and atmospheric canals passing by as the boat sped in the direction of the hotel.

They arrived at the private garden and dock of the Palladio suite. With a flourish, Ethan opened the door of the suite for her and she felt as if she was suspended above the lagoon. The sumptuously decorated living room had panoramic views over the magical Venetian lagoon through huge windows. And there were red roses everywhere she looked. She felt transported to the eighteenth century.

“Ethan! You crazy man!” She smiled at him.

“All for you, baby.” He smiled back. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ethan said as he opened a Krug Rosé that had been chilling in a silver cooler.

Sophia walked up to the window, enchanted by the view.

“I want you to enjoy the weekend.” Ethan came from behind and handed her a flute.

“Cheers. To you.” She touched her flute to his and drank. “I love this city.”

He breathed in her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist. “And I love you.”

She whirled around. “It’s-”

“Shhh. I know you’re still unsure, but I love you. You don’t have to say anything.” His Mediterranean azure eyes were sparkling. “I’ve planned so many surprises for you.”

“It’s your birthday and you planned surprises for me?” She sipped her champagne.

“Yes, starting in…” he looked at his Vaucheron Constantin Tour d’Ille watch, “five minutes, max.”

Their personal butler knocked on the door, and announced they had visitors.

“Starting now,” Ethan said, bit her earlobe and turned to receive the group.

The butler announced Signora Marconi and she suddenly flooded the airy living room along with four assistants. In their arms, the two women and two men carried heaps of velvet, silk, and plumes.

Sophia looked at Ethan, questioning him silently.

“Our costumes for the doge’s ball,” he explained. “Mrs. Marconi, I’m sure everything is perfect for tomorrow night.”

“Signore Ashford, this is my easiest and most pleasurable mission.” The short and thin woman answered as she measured Sophia. “Signora Ashford is belissima!”

Sophia giggled at the mistake and Ethan kissed her soundly. “See you in a few minutes, Signora Ashford.” He waved at Sophia with a wicked smile, leaving the room with the men to try on his ensemble.

The small woman unzipped a black garment bag and took out a mantua with a small train made of black velvet embroidered with silvery thread and Swarovski drops. The embroidery was a delicate pattern of flowers and swirls. The black velvet sparkled like a starry night.

“It’s magical,” Sophia breathed, delighted by the cloth.

Mrs. Marconi helped Sophia put on a delicate silver and black silk brocade gown with a fitted bodice and flared petticoats, fastening them on Sophia’s body. The low, square neckline and bodice emphasized her collarbones and breasts. The black, sparkling mantua was drawn back over the hips to expose the bodice and petticoat beneath, fitting tightly at her waist. The sleeves narrowed at the elbows and then opened wide to show the lace-trimmed sleeves beneath, almost covering her wrists. The matching shoes, made of the same black embroidered velvet, had a curved heel and a squarish toe with a bow of the silver brocade.

“It is absolutely perfect, Signora.” Sophia marveled at the gown. “You had my measurements?”

“Your husband knows your size exactly, Signora.” The woman circled an amused and grinning Sophia. “Splendida. Come and see in the full length mirror.” She held Sophia’s hand and led her to the bedroom, knocking on the door and waiting for an answer.

Ethan opened the double doors and had already changed into his normal clothes. His breath caught in his lungs. He lifted a hand, stopping the women and stepped back to better enjoy the amazing vision in front of him. He tilted his head to the side. “Magnificent,” he breathed. He crooked his finger at her, commanding her inside the master bedroom.

When Sophia saw her reflection in the mirror, she stood in awe of it. “Lovely.”

“Just perfect. Everything I had imagined,” he whispered in her ear, “my queen.”

Signora Marconi advanced, taking Sophia’s hair up and pilling it up with some pins. “No wig. Definitivamente, no wig and no hat. You need something sparkling in this glorious hair. Maybe the silver plumes. Or a Swarovski diadem.”

“Diamonds.”

“Bravo, Signore Ashford! Let’s see the effect.” She snapped her fingers and an assistant hurried to pick out what she wanted.

“How were your clothes, Signore?”

“Perfect. As for the hat, I prefer the one with the black plumes.”

She rearranged Sophia’s hair in a loose bun and set a sparkling diadem on her head and some plumes, leaving a cascade of locks at the back, dropping them to her left shoulder. “No,” she said, thinking out loud, “no plumes in the hair. You don’t need accessories. Hmm,” the seamstress pursed her lips. “Curls. Si, si,” she bobbed her head, “you should have curls. I will set an appointment with Marco Bianchi for your hair and makeup, Signora. He is the best in Venezia. Is five okay?”

“May I?” Sophia asked, looking at the box with combs, pins, tiaras and a whole set of hair accessories. She took off the tiara and fitted a single Swarovski headband with small leaves over her hair. “What do you think?” She asked Ethan.

“Well,” he cocked his head to the side, “if you like it better, it’s up to you.”

She looked at the mirror and liked the effect.

Simple, but extremely elegant. “It will go spectacularly well with the Makis set you gave me.”

“Hmm…” he lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

“You can use this headband, Signora.”

“Done. So, tomorrow at five o’clock I will wait for Marco.” She pivoted in front of the mirror and beamed at the seamstress. “Thank you very much. I loved it.”


Sophia emerged from the bedroom into the living room. Ethan talked on his Blackberry while perched on the desk near the door to a private balcony overlooking the lagoon. When he saw her, he ended the call and stood to welcome her in his arms.

“It’s still raining,” he pouted and led her to sit with him on a love seat facing the canal.

She laughed. “You look like a child who’s been forbidden to play with his favorite toy.” She sat on his lap. “The weather will get better, you will see. I checked online this morning.”

“Taste this,” he put a Venetian biscuit in her mouth, grinning naughtily at her.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes, savoring the delicacy. “I think you’re trying to cloud my senses with all these delights. What do you want this time, Ethan?”

“You,” he murmured in her ear, sending a thrill through her body. “Only you. It’s all I want. You.”

She smiled at him. “You know, if we had some time to spare tomorrow,” she said between bites, “I’d love to visit Rubelli Fabrics.”

“For your new house?”

“Mm-hmm. I told my sister Carol I was coming here and she told me to go. Their shop is hidden in a tiny square just off Piazza San Marco. They have the most gorgeous velvets and silks. Their finest silk damasks adorn the grand apartments of the Palazzo Ducale. I want the rooms of my house restored to their former glory.”

“Sure, baby. We have some time before our dinner. Want to go now?”

Sophia jumped from his lap. “Let me get my coat.”


5.19 p.m.

“You have such good taste, Ethan. And you’re very patient. I’ve never seen a man so willing to help out in a shopping spree,” Sophia said while they strolled back to the pier.

“Your company is worth it.” He helped her board the boat, said something to the captain, and sat at her side, with an adoring smile on his lips.

As the sun set, it lent a golden hue to the magical, romantic city.

“A small detour,” he explained as the boat slowed down, putting his arms around her. “It’s said that lovers are granted eternal love and bliss if they kiss on a gondola at sunset under the Bridge of Sighs,” he murmured looking into her eyes and kissed her when the shadow of the bridge fell over them. And I want us together, eternally.