An Apartment in Venice (16 page)

Friday morning—Giulia’s day to go to Oliver’s office—Chuck stopped her as they left his studio for the post.

“Micina? One last time. Are you ready to go into Oliver’s alone?” He knew she’d been restless all night.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her voice sounded chipper, even flip.

“Thank God, you won’t have to wear a wire. Yesterday I stood outside Ogle’s office wearing the voice-activated system, and I could hear him loud and clear. I’ll hear every word you have with that creep.”

She took his hands, kissed his palms and held them. “Karlo.”

No one had said his name with such compassion and sweetness since his mother had died.

“Thank you for all you’re doing,” Giulia said. “You’re a mensch. With you nearby, l’ll be fine.”

* * *

“As Giulia stepped into Oliver’s office that afternoon, he leaned out the door and looked both ways.

“What? No guard standing by?”

She ignored that and casually took her usual seat in front of his desk. “We have much to discuss, don’t we?”

“We do. We do indeed little lady. Let’s get this special session in gear,” he said, turning the deadbolt mechanism behind her.

The clunk made Giulia’s heart pound. She “knew” it wasn’t locking, but it sounded so solid. So final. Nevertheless, she waited as calmly as she could for Oliver to settle behind his desk and fuss with his papers.

“You’re certified to teach Italian as a second language?”

“I am. You’ll find a copy of the certification attached to my resume.”

Rubbing his hands together, he opened a folder making clicking sounds with his tongue as he ran a finger down one of the papers. “Certified to teach English as a second language, but—”

She held her position and did not lean over his desk to show him.

“Oh yes. Here it is. My, my. And what else are we certified for?” He looked straight at her with his pale, reptilian eyes. “Certified to suck me off?”

She did not blink. Instead, she stared him down and hoped Chuck’s high-tech device was transmitting this horrible man’s words onto tape. Oliver’s face and neck were flushed and his breathing seemed labored. From the moment he’d sat down, he’d been casually rocking an oversized mechanical pencil held between his thumb and forefinger. The tips of the pencil click-clacked against the metal desktop. The clicking seemed to increase in speed.

Lord, I need to calm him down.
“Do you have an idea how many military personnel will be in the Italian class?” she asked. “Has an announcement been published about it?”

Miraculously, the pencil slowed. “So far, we have eleven who have signed up. It would depend on the schedule and location of the class, of course.”

“Eleven is a good size for a class to make progress.”

“Yes. Progress. Yes indeed. Well, no doubt faster progress could be achieved if you held smaller classes—maybe in your nifty apartment in town, say, in your bedroom?” He looked up at her with predatory eyes.

For a moment, she felt shaken but clamped her teeth and sat up straighter.
He wants me to know.
She said nothing and sneaked a deep breath.

His pencil rocked steadily, and she noticed his other hand move beneath the desk.

“What is the pay scale for teaching extra-curricular classes on the base?”

Again, he seemed to switch into a business mode and turned to his computer, tapping the keys with both hands. He began discussing pay scales for various extra teaching duties. But he jerked his head up and suggested private classes. He bobbed his eyebrows as Chuck had done once in jest, but on Oliver, the action was ugly, menacing.

“Mr. Ogle, I’m not interested in private classes. Studies have shown that students usually do better in a small class of peers. And I don’t have time to accommodate eleven students on an individual basis. I could teach Italian on Friday afternoons, unless students would prefer another day because of the weekend.” As if she’d just thought of it, she said, “Or, if not Fridays, Monday or Wednesday afternoons would be good. I’d prefer not to hold night classes.”

“Found someone to fuck every night, eh?”

She stared at him. The air was thick with an electric charge. She’d had enough. “Do you speak to all your personnel this way?”

“Only those with cunts.” The pencil began to drum faster, and more red spots mottled his face.

“I see. Does that work for you?”

“It’s a numbers game, dolly, a numbers game. With all your education surely you understand the laws of statistics.” Sweat beaded on his forehead and around his upper mouth. A strange odor filled the space between them. Strange and unpleasant. Was she sensing her own fear?

She jerked to her feet. “Please send me suggested times. I’ll e-mail back my availability.” Gathering her purse and scarf, she said, “After we settle that, I’ll come in to sign a separate contract.”

For once he didn’t comment but she heard a zipper slide.

Still standing, she said, “I want to teach this class, but I need to keep the same working days as specified in my present contract. If afternoons don’t work, I could come in early any of those three days.”

Out of nowhere, he sneered and said, “How about using your place behind Pensione Luciana for private classes?”

She staggered back.
He’s bragging about stalking me. About breaking in.
She whirled toward the door. As before, he moved fast and reached her just as she got her hand on the door.

“You cock teaser! You’re not getting away this time.” He grasped her blouse. She screamed. Thank God the door opened in her hand but not before the cloth ripped.

“What the fuck? I locked that. Knew something was off with that door.” He charged after her. His foul breath hot in her face, Oliver managed to grab hold of a breast and squeezed. Hard. At that moment, Chuck and Colonel Ryland crashed in with Marlowe behind them. They’d decided at the last minute it’d be good to have a female witness along. Marlowe pulled out her brand-new camera phone and started snapping pictures. Chuck pulled Giulia away growling, “Get out of here! Now!”

At that same moment, Ryland, almost as big as Chuck, yanked Oliver away from her and the front half of her blouse tore away. As soon as Giulia was out of harm’s way, Chuck helped Ryland restrain Oliver. Both men took particular pains to use no unnecessary roughness, although Chuck longed to break the bastard’s neck. Marlowe continued to take pictures until she noticed Oliver’s fly was unzipped. She caught a couple shots of light-green fabric poking out before Ryland turned him toward the door. Through her lens, she noticed Giulia’s state of undress. After shooting a picture, she removed her own jacket and wrapped it around Giulia’s shoulders then hurried back to take more shots. Giulia staggered out the door and stumbled along the wall of the corridor.

Colonel Ryland led Oliver away in white-plastic handcuffs but Oliver shouted, “Puttana! You’ll pay for this!”

It was late Friday afternoon, but two people poked their heads out of a door nearby. One of them gave a thumbs up when he saw Oliver being led away. Chuck rushed to find Giulia cowering in a far corner of the hallway.

“It’s over, my angel.” He shoved each of her arms through the sleeves of Marlowe’s jacket draped over her shoulders. He buttoned the jacked closed and saw she was trembling. Then, holding her in his arms, he rocked her back and forth, but she remained tense. Frozen. “I heard every word,” he said. “What a sick bastard. But, damn, you were good in there.” Still, her body remained stiff and felt cold. He held her a little apart to look in her face. “What’s wrong, Micina?”
Oh hell. Is she going into shock?

“Over?” she said, staring past him.

Putting his hand on the nape of her neck and tipping her head up with his thumb. “You pulled it off, kiddo.” He kissed her. No response. “What’s going on? Look at me.” He saw only vacancy. “Talk to me!” he almost shouted. Then he reined back and spoke softly, slowly, all the while stroking her back.

“Going on?” Her eyes were unfocused, and she began to shake.

“Let’s get you out of here.

“Out of here,” she repeated, nodding her head. “Out of here.”

Her voice had sounded so confident through the listening device, but this whole operation had taken more from her than he expected—more than a big blockhead like him could imagine. All along, she had outsmarted the bastard. Had kept her cool with the despicable monster. When it was over, Chuck—her white-knight rescuer—was rough and only focused on dealing with Ogle. Hell. Ryland could have handled him. Damn.

Marlowe came rushing up to them and pulled Giulia into a hug. “Hey, girl. It’s over. You did it! Let’s go celebrate. Marc’s on his way. I’ve been wanting to try that restaurant called Zio Zeb ever since you told me about it. Okay?” She hadn’t noticed yet the uneasy cloud hovering around Chuck and Giulia.

When she got no response, she finally focused. Giulia’s face was pale. Her eyes, dull and spacey. Chuck was holding her with a helpless look on his face.

“Sounds good, Marlowe,” Chuck said hoarsely and caught her attention by twitching his head toward Giulia. “Might be good for
some
of us to stop at the Greek place here on the base for a shot of ouzo or grappa, if they have it. Warm us up. Calm us down, right?”

“Yesss. Super idea,” Marlowe said.

* * *

Giulia shivered uncontrollably and her legs weren’t cooperating. Chuck supported her as they walked across to the row of fast-food spots. He could have carried her, but walking might help work adrenalin out of her system. She seemed caught in a trance when they entered the taverna. As he guided her to a booth, he noticed the bar board showed only cheap brandy or ouzo.

“Do you want ouzo or brandy?” He didn’t ask
whether
she wanted a drink, hoping the pressure to make a choice would pull her out of the foggy cocoon that locked her away from him.

“Ouzo.”

He sighed with relief, slid into the booth beside her and chafed her hands. He and Marlowe talked softly to her as they waited.

When their drinks arrived, Marlowe raised her glass to Giulia, “We did it.
You
did it, Giulia. Bottoms up.”

Giulia tipped her shot glass. She sputtered and coughed and broke into laughter. Laughing hysterically, she held out her glass for more. Chuck signaled the man at the bar for another. When it arrived, Chuck offered her the second shot, but she was still laughing too hard to take it. He set it down, grasped her shoulders and held her in a steely grip, not wanting to slap or shake her.

“Giulia, stop!” he ordered. Her head snapped back. With one hand he held the back of her head, with the other, he touched the glass to her lips. She looked at him with recognition in her eyes.
At last.
She took a sip. Marlowe and Chuck were quiet while Giulia continued to sip the strong, sweet liquore.

“Ouzo. Haven’t had any for years. Strong isn’t it? Guess I needed that.”

“Guess so,” Chuck said. “Are you cold?”

“A little, but mostly I’m starved.”

Chuck and Marlowe grinned at each other, knowing the worst was over. “Let’s get going,” she said. “Marc will take a cab to Zio Zeb.”

“Sounds great. What are we waiting for?” Giulia said.

Chuck and Marlowe looked at each other again and laughed with relief.

Later while eating, they re-hashed what had happened. Giulia was calm and in control again as she answered Marc’s questions. “I don’t quite understand my crazy reaction afterwards. But the best part… it’s over.”

Chuck pulled her into the shelter of his shoulder.

“What happens now?” Marlowe asked.

“Ogle will be held by the military until American civilian authorities arrive, probably from Padova,” Chuck said. “He can’t be tried under military law, and he’ll raise a huge stink the entire time. Ryland and I will be called to make our statements to the military tribunal—Monday if not sooner. I’m sure we’ll also be required in the civilian court. Won’t be pretty. But the end result’s bound to be good. Oliver won’t be working here anymore.”

“That’s good news,” Marlowe said, “it should never have gotten this far. I still don’t understand why the women on base let it go so long. Wonder how many other places he’s shifted out of?”

“He was already here when I arrived almost eight years ago,” Chuck said.

“More likely, women transferred to get away from him,” Marlowe mused.

“A lot of what went on is my word against his,” Giulia said.

“That’s why he’s gotten away with his abusive behavior for so long,” Marlowe said.

“Exactly.” Giulia shook her head back and forth biting her lower lip.

“Don’t forget three of us saw him tearing your shirt and grabbing your breast,” Marlowe said.

“Let’s hope his inevitable accusations of entrapment won’t stick,” Marc added.

They all looked at Marc. “Yeah,” Chuck said nodding his head. “The waters could be muddy on that subject.”

“But other women will testify about being afraid to go in his office alone.” Marlowe said. “I wonder how many other women have been molested in that office with no witnesses?”

“If they’ll testify,” Giulia said.

“They will,” Marlowe said. “What’s to fear now?”

“Hey guys,” Marc said. “For now, it’s out of our hands. Shall we all head home?”

As they stepped out of the Venice station, Marc and Marlowe saw their vaporetto approaching. Marlowe gave Giulia a quick hug. “Gotta go. If we miss this, we’ll have to wait another hour.” Marc called out, “We’ll be in touch.”

Giulia and Chuck hiked the fifty steps up and fifty down of the Scalzi Bridge, putting them into Santa Croce. Chuck’s feet guided them seamlessly into San Polo where his quiet apartment waited. As they hurried through the dark calles with buildings close on either side, Giulia said, “There’s no doubt that Oliver was the vandal who broke in.”

“Oh, he was in there for sure. But all that violent destruction?” Chuck took Giulia’s arm, guiding her to the right. “This way, it’s quicker even though it seems wrong.”

“He’s stronger than he looks.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry he touched you. Are you hurt?”

She ignored his question. “Writing Puttana on the mirror, makes me think he was the only vandal.”

“That doesn’t mean a lot. Filth comes out of his mouth every other word. He probably calls any woman a whore if she doesn’t kow-tow to him.”

“But he hadn’t used Italian with his other vulgarities. Why that one? I think he wanted me to know who wrote it on my bathroom mirror.”

“For sure he wanted you to know he’d been there. But he can’t reach you anymore.” Chuck opened the door to his building. “He couldn’t get to my address files like he did yours, but God help him if he
ever
follows you here. He wouldn’t have Ryland to protect him from me.”

“Believe it or not,” she said, while they climbed to his first-floor apartment, “I’d prefer it was all Oliver’s doing. Oliver might be dangerous, but he’ll be out of the picture soon.” She sighed. “Won’t he?”

“He’ll be off the post, you can count on that. I’m glad I got into his office and villa before this happened.” After a moment, Chuck said, “Damn!”

“What?”

“I hope he won’t have time to move his trophies before he’s shipped off to the States.” Unlocking his apartment, he said, “Well, let’s give it a rest.”

“Yes. I do crave peace and quiet. Tomorrow I’m going to call my grandparents to see if I can visit them for the weekend. Want to come too?”

“Yeah. I’d like to find out how Tony’s doing in his retirement.”

“Retirement? That’s doubtful. But maybe his adventures will be a little more cautious. No more talk of Oliver tonight, but I do need a hot shower after being around that slimy toad.”

“Go ahead. I’ll check on a couple of things,” Chuck said.

In her room, she stripped quickly, pulled on her ratty robe and rummaged in the drawers where she’d stashed clothes brought from her apartment. Still unnerved and exhausted, she couldn’t find her over-sized Tee-shirts. She went looking for Chuck who was sorting mail on the kitchen counter.

“Excuse me,” she said.

He looked up and smiled.
Oh Lord, that smile.
“I can’t find any of my sleep Tees, could I borrow one of yours?”

“You don’t need to wear anything in bed.”
I’ll haul it off anyway.

She waited.

“Okay,” he said. “Check the middle drawer of the large chest.” His eyes followed her hips as she walked away.

She chose a faded green Tee, soft from many washings, it would feel perfect after the rough handling by that creep. After a long, hot shower she lay fatigued, but unable to relax. What was taking him so long? After Jason’s lies and before meeting Chuck, she’d been sure the internal switch she’d flipped to “off” had shut her down for good. But when Chuck walked in from his shower, she noticed a big bulge tenting the towel around his waist.
God, I’m glad I was wrong about that switch. Here’s a man made for loving and loving and loving.

“How’re you doing?” he asked.

“Not good. I need you. Now!” She switched off the bedside lamp, but not before he’d dropped his towel and she’d seen exactly what she wanted. He flipped the light back on and sat down beside her, splendid in his nakedness. All man.

“I want to look at you,” he said and pulled back the duvet, grasped the hem of the green shirt and dragged it over her head. He gazed down at her then drew in his breath. “Your breast. Your beautiful breast. It’s turning blue. That miserable bastard. I’ll see him rot in hell yet! Oh, my angel.” He leaned down and kissed the bruise with feathery kisses moaning softly. “Does it hurt? Are you all right?”

“Never mind that. Come here,” she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down crushing his mouth hard on hers. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and she dug her hands into his back trying to pull him closer. Chuck resisted letting all his weight down although by now she had her hands fisted in his hair as if she’d never let go. He didn’t want to crush her and tried to slow her pace. He straddled her hips and began kissing her neck slowly. But with her hands still in his hair, she forced his mouth back to hers and into another ferocious kiss. He loved kissing Giulia so he gave in and let her indulge her frenzy. After a few more wet kisses, he worked his tongue into a slower motion seeking to turn things down a notch. He rolled onto his back—worried about that bruised breast—to offer her more control. She took it. Her hands went straight to his cock and began guiding it into herself.

“Hold on.” He grabbed her hands and held them in one of his while he gently slipped a finger inside to be certain she could take him without pain. Not surprised, but needing reassurance, he found her slick and fiery hot.
Lord. This is happening too fast, but if it’s what she wants, I’m her man.
He released her hands and she pressed her palms on his upper chest for support. He grasped her hips helping to lift her all the way up to begin an excruciatingly delicious slide down his shaft. At this point—
finally
—she slowed her pace. Her female scent enveloped him. Her face was flushed, her upper body rosy. God she was beautiful. Her head was thrown back and her brown nipples were hard points begging for his mouth. He curled upward, took one and sucked. Hard. She gasped and began her descent.

“It’s absolute heaven this way,” he said.

“You mean when I’m up here?” she panted.

“That, too, but I’m thinking how good you feel when I’m not wearing a condom.”

“Yes. Oh yesss.” And she added a little circular motion to her slow slide.

The sensation was incredible. He couldn’t hold back much longer, but she’d made it clear she was in need tonight so he thrust his hips upward to meet her and they found a rhythm that grew in intensity until they both dissolved into a sweaty heap of mutual ecstasy.

“Better now?” he asked.

She sighed. “Was something wrong?”

“You
are
a vixen.” And he switched off the lamp.

* * *

Giulia opened her eyes to a clear morning. Ouch, her breast was more tender than last night. It would heal. Chuck’s warm hand cradled it. For all their softness, boobs were pretty tough. Chuck stirred and his morning erection poked her.

“Mornin’,” he whispered. “How do you feel about using this?”

She turned over to face him and said, “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

“Waste not, want not, Babička used to say.”

So they obeyed his grandma’s admonition, but in a more leisurely manner than the wildness of the night before.

Later as they drank the last of their coffee, Chuck’s phone rang. When he finished the call, he told what she had surmised from his side of the conversation. He needed to go in for an acknowledgment and signature on the report he had e-mailed sometime last night. “Have you spoken with your grandparents yet?”

“Yes. They want both of us to come. They already know I’ve moved in with you—temporarily,” she emphasized again. “And they’re delighted. But I haven’t told them about the vandalism. And… I’d rather they didn’t know.”

“I understand. The best thing that could happen,” Chuck said, “would be for Oliver to let it slip during interrogation that he was the vandal. We’d know for sure Botteri hadn’t been involved.
Then
we could tell Tony. That way, he wouldn’t feel extra guilt.”

“I’d love that outcome.”

“Want to go back to Vicenza with me this morning? We could take my car directly to the grandparents.”

“Good idea. While you’re at the base, I’d like to visit Luciana and Gino. You could pick me up at the pensione or in town when you’re finished.”

“Perfect. Let’s do it.”

On arrival in Vicenza, Chuck carried their overnights to his car, and she caught a bus to the pensione. After visiting her former landlords, she’d leave a message on his phone as to where she’d be.

Luciana had brought in coffee and apricot-filled croissants. And Giulia had offered, again, to pay whatever the insurance company wouldn’t cover. But Gino waved that off saying it’d be months before all that was settled. Weekend guests would arrive soon and she knew they’d be busy, but before leaving, she offered to pay something up front until the settlement. Neither would listen to her offer and simply gave her a big hug saying to stop by soon for a visit.

Figuring she had plenty of time, she walked toward the town center and strolled among the many graceful buildings Palladio had designed. She left Chuck a voice message about her whereabouts and asked him to call her when he left the base. Then she meandered into the grand piazza of the ancient city hall. The design to renovate the old hall had become Palladio’s stepping stone to fame and fortune. His idea had been to cover the old gothic building with classical columns reminiscent of ancient Rome. In the mid-1500s, this idea was considered innovative, maybe even avant-garde.

She remembered buying her first ripe
cachi
at the outdoor market held beside the building. Not having eaten a persimmon before, she had assumed it was an exotic fruit typical of Italy and bit right into it. It had been like eating pudding with her fingers, and the sticky stuff spread all over her face and hands. On that trip, her new friend, Pamela, teased her, but neither of them had more than a tissue or two. Then Pam spied a spigot with water running freely at the side of the building. “Saved again!” Giulia had said laughing. She’d referred to the time when Pam helped Giulia elude an unwanted Romeo in Verona, where the two had met in a cheap hotel for women.

As she moved on through the grand piazza, she noticed a man who looked familiar. It was the second time she’d seen him that morning. He moved gracefully away from her toward one of the small shops. The way he walked…
Oh Lord. He served tea and works for Botteri!

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she ducked behind one of the huge support columns of the Palladiana. Chuck was leaving the base. When he got her location, he said, “Why are you whispering?”

“I saw one of Botteri’s men. He may be following me.”

“Exactly where are you?”

When she told him, he said, “Get out among people. Now! I’ll be there in ten-twelve minutes. Keep on Corso Andrea Palladio heading toward the River Bacchiglione. Wait in the middle of the bridge where people can see you until you spot my car. Then come across, turn right and go to the cloister of San Pietro. I’ll find you.”

“Will do. I might be wrong, you know, but…”

“Don’t chance it. Go!”

She stood on the bridge, ostensibly gazing at the fast-moving river, but out of the corner of her eye, Giulia watched for the slender man who had served tea. No sign of him. Then she saw Chuck’s bright yellow car and breathed again. She turned toward him at the same moment he spied her. He double parked and ran to her. He scooped her up, and they held each other until both hearts slowed down.

“I haven’t seen him since before I spoke to you. Either I was mistaken or he’s a better tracker than the first one.”

“Either way, sweet angel, let me get you outta here.”