Venom (28 page)

“Your father’s friend,” Cass said, striving to sound casual. “Do you mean Joseph Dubois?” Despite the story that Dubois had given to her aunt, she thought it highly odd that a servant from his estate had disappeared just a few days after his favorite courtesan had turned up dead.

Mada made a face like she’d just smelled something rancid. “Joseph Dubois? No. His parties are better known for their
ladies
than for their food, if you know what I mean. I was actually in attendance at his masquerade ball last night. You know that man had the audacity to hang a painting of himself right next to his portrait of the Doge? I daresay his was a bit larger too,” she added. “Still, it was a good time. You should have come.”

“Well, you know how my aunt feels about parties,” Cass said, averting her eyes so that Mada wouldn’t be able to read the lie there.

“Frivolous!” Mada declared, and Cass couldn’t help bursting into laughter. Even Siena chimed in.

“I was referring to Father’s friend Cristian,” Mada said when she had recomposed herself. “You met him at my palazzo, remember?” Mada squeezed in next to Cass so that she could see her own reflection. She adjusted the strand of lilac pearls hanging tight around her
throat and then pinched one of her dark braids between the thumb and forefinger of her gloved hand. “Do you think I should lighten my hair for the ceremony?”

Cass shook her head. “I think your hair is perfect just as it is. Besides, all the girls have taken to lightening their hair. You’ll stand out more if you keep it dark.”

Mada smiled at herself in the mirror, evidently pleased at the idea of standing out. Turning to face Cass, Mada ran her hands over the pinned fabric. She adjusted the draping neckline so that the top half of Cass’s breasts peeked out. “Luca is going to faint when he sees you in this dress. Poor thing will spend the entire ceremony and reception counting the minutes until Siena strips you out of it for him.”

Cass flinched as the bell above the shop door jangled, announcing the arrival of another patron. Balmy street air rushed into the fitting area as a masculine voice called out, “
Bongiorno.
Anyone here?” It was Marco, Mada’s fiancé.

“We’re in here,” Madalena called. “You can come in. She’s decent.”

Cass touched a hand to her face. Her skin felt warm. Suddenly, the pinned fabric felt heavy and confining. She didn’t want anyone else to see her like this.

Too late.

Marco slipped into the fitting room and whistled long and low as he let the door close behind him. “Signorina Cassandra, you look stunning,” he said, shaking his wavy brown hair back from his face. “I swear if I weren’t already betrothed, I might ask for your hand right this second.”

Madalena gave him a dark look, and he pretended to see her for the first time. “Only joking, my goddess,” he said, moving to stand
behind her. He swept her dark braids to one side and pressed his lips to her exposed neck.

Signor Sesti coughed as he returned from the back room, and Marco pulled his mouth away from Mada’s skin.

“
Mi dispiace,
Signore.” Marco straightened the golden medallion that hung around his neck. He gestured to his wife-to-be. “But can you blame me?”

“Marco.” Madalena swatted at him, pretending to be angry. But it was as though his presence had made a flame come to life inside of her; she was glowing, radiating happiness and desire.

For the first time, Cass understood what it was like to burn in such a manner. But all of her burning was for Falco, the boy she’d never be allowed to marry, not for Luca, her fiancé. Cass closed her eyes momentarily, remembering the surge of emotion that had coursed through her when Falco had first touched his lips to hers. She remembered the way her body had trembled, the way she felt as if she were emerging from a cold, dark tunnel into the light of day for the first time. Luca would never make her feel that way. Ever.

Why did life have to be so unfair?

Madalena and Marco left the shop to meet Cristian, who was joining them for the evening meal. Signor Sesti unpinned and unwound the fabric from Cass’s body, jotting down some rough notes on a piece of parchment as he worked. Siena sat quietly on the bench at the back of the fitting area, watching the tailor as he transformed Cass from a princess back into a normal girl. Cass tried to engage her several times in conversation, but Siena just sat, nodding mutely.

“Are you all right, Siena?” Cass asked, her own spirits rising as the yards of glamorous fabric disappeared. “You’re even quieter than usual.”

“I was just wondering if I will be accompanying you to Signor da Peraga’s estate, or if I will remain with your aunt.” Siena began to help Cass get dressed once the tailor had finished removing his pins.

No wonder the girl looked as though she’d swallowed a frog. She was afraid she’d be left behind to molder at Agnese’s estate.

“Of course you’ll come with me,” Cass said. “I’m sure Luca would be delighted to have you as part of the staff.” Cass watched in the mirror as her lady’s maid expertly threaded and tightened the laces of her bodice. “And we both know I’d be lost without you.”

“But perhaps Signor da Peraga has a different lady’s maid in mind for you?” Siena’s pale reflection blushed scarlet. She nibbled at the edge of a fingernail.

Cass wondered what had put such thoughts in the girl’s head. “Nonsense. You’ll be joining me at Luca’s and that’s final.” Even as she said it, she felt a twinge of anxiety. Was she really going to marry Luca? And was she now responsible for Siena’s future as well as her own?

Later that night, as Cass prepared to meet up with Falco, images assailed her: Falco crashing into her on the day of Liviana’s funeral. How he had helped her steer the gondola the first night they had traversed the lagoon together. Tommaso’s studio, Falco’s eyes drinking in every inch of her body, his hands gentle as he arranged her on the divan. And the kiss. The kiss. Her lips pulsed at the memory.

Madalena was marrying Marco, the man of her dreams, while Cass was denied love, prohibited from finding and pursuing it. If she didn’t marry Luca, not only would she disappoint her aunt, but she might very well end up homeless and impoverished.
What would
Matteo think?
Cass hated it that her choices had all been stolen away from her by a boy she’d never even met.

Cass knelt before the gilded crucifix hanging in her prayer alcove. She folded her hands and prayed to St. Anthony of Padua. Her mother used to pray to him when she had lost things. Cass was feeling a little lost herself.

Slipper appeared from the darkness of the armoire and rubbed up against her. Cass managed to smile. She held the cat against her chest, feeling the vibration of his purring against her skin.

Falco’s words whispered in her ear.
Stop worrying about the rest of the world. Do what feels right. Let go.

Cass stood up and blotted her face, which was wet, on her sleeve. She looked at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was time to meet Falco at Il Mar e la Spada. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, wanting to look absolutely radiant for their meeting, wanting to feel Falco’s lips on hers one last time.

Her future might have already been decided, but she was still in control of her present.

C
ass moved quickly through the night, guided by the wavering light of her lantern and the certainty that she was doing the right thing. She couldn’t believe how at ease she’d become with sneaking around in the dark. She slipped out of the villa, fleeing across the mossy lawn until she reached the path that ran along the shoreline. Sharp stones pressed through the soles of her flat shoes, making her wince. Cass sensed someone following her and whirled around just in time to watch the shadowy form of an emaciated black cat launch itself into a patch of high grass.

Cass held up her lantern as she approached the village. The tight cluster of buildings looked almost deserted, dark except for a faint glow coming from the taverna. Cass’s heart propelled her forward. She knew that if she could lay eyes on Falco, everything wrong in her heart would fix itself. Falco didn’t believe in fate, but Cass did. She felt as if the forces of the universe were guiding her safely through the night to the man who held all of the answers.

She took a deep breath and opened the door to the taverna, not knowing what she’d do if Falco wasn’t there.

The place was warm and dark, reeking of sweat and sour ale. Despite the late hour, the taverna was crowded, and every man seemed to look up as the door swung shut behind her. A rumble of startled disbelief went through the crowd—the taverna was not a place for a woman, especially so late at night. Cass hoped the dim lamplight prevented her from being recognized by any of the villagers.

But then her heart leapt in her chest. He was here, just as he had promised he would be.

Falco sat with three other boys at a table on the far side of the bar. He hadn’t yet looked up. Cass couldn’t stop herself from breaking into a beaming smile. Just the curl of his dark brown hair against the worn collar of his shirt made her heart thud. Falco’s roommate, Paolo, glanced at her with a knowing smirk. He leaned in to whisper something to Falco.

Falco looked up. His whole body seemed to relax when he saw Cass. Bounding off his chair, he weaved his way through the crowded taverna to where she stood just inside the door. “My lovely starling,” he said. He cast a glance back at his friends. “Maybe we should talk outside.”

Cass and Falco stepped out into the cool night. As the taverna door creaked shut, Falco immediately pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. Cass rested her chin on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of paint and soap.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him: had he missed her, as she had missed him? Had he been thinking about her? Had he been thinking of their kiss? Her lips were just inches from the skin of his neck.

Instead, she moved back, just slightly, so she could look Falco in the eye, and said, “Did you discover anything today?”

“Nothing about de Gradi,” Falco said. “I did find an artisan who believes he made the falcon mask, but he said the purchaser didn’t leave a name or address. The man insisted on picking up the item himself since he lived just across the canal.”

“Where is the shop?” she asked.

“South of San Giovanni,” Falco said. “There is a string of palazzos just across the water. Perhaps we can go there?”

They weren’t likely to stumble across the masked man just out wandering the streets of the city, and Cass wasn’t even sure she would recognize him; she had seen nothing but the hardness of his eyes. All she’d had was a
feeling
about him—that something was off, dangerous. She remembered how he’d spoken of the beauty of war.

But it meant a long gondola ride with Falco, and with the threat of her wedding looming closer and closer, she was willing to go just about anywhere with him.

Before she could agree, the door to the taverna creaked and Falco moved away from her. She whirled around.