A Thief in Venice by Tara Crescent Read Free Book Online Page B

my intentions openly. If there was a problem, Enzo could speak up.
    “She doesn’t get involved,” Enzo warned.
    “I’ll take my chances,” I replied. The water taxi turned and swung back towards Venice.

Chapter 12
    Lucia:
    I pushed thoughts of Antonio out of my head with determination. My resolve succeeded during the day, for the most part. At night? My nights belonged to Antonio. He was always in my dreams.
    I stayed away from the club. He was under my skin, this dangerous man, and other men would have seemed like pale imitations.
    Instead, I doubled down on the preparation for my next attempt at the Madonna. He hadn’t said anything overt, but he’d clearly dismissed my skills as a thief, and I didn’t like it. Antonio Moretti was too smug and too self-assured for his own good. The next time I was in his dungeon, it would be on my terms. With the Madonna safe and sound in the Doge’s vaults.
    But first, I needed to send him a message. Not a note, this time. A different message.
    ***
    Antonio:
    I watched the security tapes once again. The guards had backed away from me, fearing my anger. As they should. This was an unbelievable breach of security, and I had no idea how she’d managed to pull it off.
    The video footage showed her in my office. Right where I was seated at the moment. She had turned to the camera, removed her cap. Bowed and winked. And then, she’d given me the middle finger. Again, my lips twitched as I saw that gesture. Lucia was feisty when she was challenged.
    “Find out how she got in,” I said evenly. The guards nodded and retreated hastily.
    Once I was alone, I laughed out aloud. My little thief was going to keep me on my toes.
    ***
    Lucia:
    I went to work the day after I’d managed to enter Antonio’s house with a huge smile on my face. I’d deliberately let the cameras run. I wanted him to know I was there. He would underestimate me at his peril.
    The Madonna had been moved, of course. In any case, I didn’t have time to search for it. My entry into his house was to make a point. It could be done, and I had done it.
    ***
    My first homage to my parents wasn’t a homage. It was bitter reproach that they had abandoned me. I had no idea how I managed to steal that painting without getting caught, reckless as I was in my grief.
    It wasn’t a valuable painting, as these things went. It had been painted by a turn of century Venetian who had painted thousands of images of the canals for the tourists that had flooded Venice even then. But it was important to me, and I had never sold it. It hung on the mantel in my tiny living room, and every morning when I woke up, I would sit on the couch and sip my coffee and eye my painting. It centered me and calmed me.
    When I came back home from work that evening, my painting was gone. And there was a note in its place. “Lucia. Have dinner with me tonight. - Antonio.”
     

Chapter 13
    Antonio:
    I rang the buzzer to her apartment, and she came down almost immediately. She was wearing a yellow sundress that hugged her breasts and flared out at the waist into soft folds. She looked touchable.
    “I want my painting back,” she said with heat. “That’s the only reason I’m having dinner with you.”
    I laughed at her. “Ah, Lucia. Lying to me would be forgivable. But lying to yourself?” I knew what I felt, and I could tell that she felt it too. There was a unique chemistry between us. The games we played over the Madonna added spice, but even if we didn’t spar over a painting, there was a heat between us that we both felt.
    My sweet little thief. When I took her hand, she didn’t pull away from me like a scared kitten. No. Lucia walked close enough that I could feel the heat emanate from her body.
    I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. I hadn’t kissed her before, and I could feel her stiffen for an instant before she kissed me back with passion. Her lips were soft and her tongue was demanding, and I smiled and gave in to both our