While I freshened up again—my hair looked like it had gotten stuck in the clouds—Brando explained the situation with Rainer in simple terms.
“He came to discuss the portrait.”
“The portrait” was a picture Rainier, who was the brother of a dancer acquaintance of mine in Paris, had taken of me without my knowledge. My face was not visible, but the pose of my body told a story—a sad one, because it reminded me of that time we spent apart. Brando felt it was overly sensuous and took offense. He basically commandeered it from him.
“Oh?” I paused, staring at him through the mirror.
“He’s not getting it. We already had this discussion. I’m not a man who enjoys repeating himself. But—” he added when he noticed the look on my face “—I made the business transaction worth his time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He grabbed the bag I had packed earlier from the bed.
“You have your camera?”
“I do.” I refused to budge until he explained though.
“I paid him enough money for the portrait that he can open up his own art gallery now. There’s nothing more to it.”
He took my hand and led me to the bed, where he instructed me to sit. I hadn’t realized I still needed my other boot. I bent to pull it on, but he waved me away, doing it himself again.
The issue with Rainer and Pepper had become old news. The issue with Luca was on the forefront of my mind, since we were about to leave.
What was Brando going to do about the situation—Luca sending Uncle Tito and Mitch away? Would Brando talk to Luca in private? Is that why Luca wanted to speak tomewithout Brando?
He said nothing else on the matter, and neither did I. He had come to a decision, but other than that, he hadn’t come to terms with the details yet. Still, that didn’t stop me from considering the options.
None of which seemed to have a favorable solution.
These thoughts stayed with me as we explored deeper into Venice, and I took pictures of all the sights. I had taken a few earlier of Mia and Matteo that I couldn’t wait to see, and Juliette had taken a couple of the four of us—technically five, though we hadn’t announced the news to the family yet.
Lifting the camera, zooming in on Brando standing beside St. Marks Basilica, the old structure outlining his features, birds flocking to him like he was their brooding leader, I took the picture of him.
He made a gorgeous figure, one of striking features and virility. He’d always been striking, but age was a friend to men like the Faustis. The older, the better.
How easy it was to catch someone unaware when their mind was deep in thought or lost to another.
If Brando had noticed my inattention, he hadn’t mentioned it. I hadn’t mentioned his either. Whether we had discussed a course of action or not, our minds were still linked, the many possibilities running through like tiny feet.
Luca, as usual, had noticed.
He held out his arm to me, and I took it. We took our promenade to the Doge’s Palace in silence. Maggie Beautiful and Brando, arms linked, were not too far behind us.
* * *
I’d beento the Doge’s Palace before.
Brando had taken me to visit not long after we were married, when I had been laid up with an injury and couldn’t dance. He had carried me all the places I couldn’t walk.
The Doge had once stood as the highest form of royalty in Venice, somewhat of an elected king, and the palace reflected history, strength, faith, and riches.
Sprawling maritime maps, paintings with opulent gold frames, and vast halls that could hold over two thousand nobles—they all came together to create one of the most powerful pieces of real estate in Europe’s history.
One of the most stunning features, in my opinion, came at Tintoretto’s hand: his monstrous masterpieceIl Paradiso.
Located in the hall of the Great Council, the oil painting was one of the largest, and it depicted many religious people. It had served as a reminder to all the nobles who’d graced the palaces grounds—make wise decisions.
Luca took all this in like this was his first visit. We discussed the art, the history, trading factoids back and forth throughout.
