A Hotel in Venice by Margot Justes

I thought I'd share an excerpt of my new release A Hotel in Venice with you-a city that has captured my heart and soul.

          The stars seemed to follow the black gondola as it flowed along the

Grand Canal, and in the distance, a dark and narrow passage beckoned

for a romantic interlude.

            Iridescent shards glistened in the moonlight. The golden glow and

the ripples in the water reminded Minola Grey of Shelley’s poem

Love’s Philosophy. “And the moonbeams kissed the sea.” As the

gondola glided along the canal, the old palazzos, one building after

another, appeared to sway with the hushed tones of the lapping water.

Peter Riley had wanted some peace and quiet and asked the

gondolier to choose a less travelled way along a narrow and more

intimate path.

            “Welcome to Venice, Miss Grey.” Peter’s finger traced the line of

her cheekbone and then her neck. “I'm very much in love with you,” he

whispered in her ear and felt her lean into him. This was the way it

should be, just the two of them together. Alone. Nothing stood in their

way. They were in Venice for a wedding. Theirs. Minola loved glass

and art. Because of the Biennale Art Festival and Murano, another

island world-renowned for blown glass that was only fifteen minutes

away by water taxi, they had chosen Venice as the perfect destination.

            Minola Grey turned toward him and brushed her lips against his,

the touch whisper soft. “I’m very much in love with you, too.

Anywhere with you is romantic, but Venice is magnificent.

Incomparable,” she purred like a contented kitten, nestling deeper into

his arms and gazing across the canal.

            He was completely absorbed in the peaceful moment, until Minola

tilted her head away from him and murmured in his ear, “Peter. Isn’t

that strange?” She pointed above her head at the pier and stared at what

seemed like a mound of multi-colored mosaics. From her vantage

point, the glass appeared to be a colorful blanket. “It’s like a sculpture,

sort of.”

            “Miss Grey, may I remind you we’re in a gondola in Venice. The

moon is shining.” He ran his fingers over her cheek once again, his

touch firm and persuasive. “I’m caressing your face. We’re together.

You, Love of my Life, should be looking at me, not glass. I know, after

our visit to Murano, you have glass on your mind, but really, where is

your sense of romance?”

            “Peter, I’m sorry. I am romantic. You tell me I'm romantic when we

make…”

            “Love? Yes, you are. Passionate and romantic, you turn my world

upside down, and not just when we make love. However, now would be

a good time to slip into that romantic mood again.” His lips curved up

in a smile. He couldn't help himself. Everything she did made him

smile, with the exception of getting into trouble and endangering her

life. She had an uncanny talent for finding bodies, and the end result

terrified him.

            They had met in Paris. He was with Interpol, and his money

laundering case almost cost Minola her life. In Bath, her life was

threatened, and worse, he couldn’t control her impulse to help. Peter

loved his work—he excelled at it—but now he focused on keeping the

woman sitting beside him safe from harm. That was not as easy as it

appeared. She was a remarkable artist who knew how to get into

trouble and could never deny anyone’s cry for help.

            “But, Peter, it’s unusual. I know we’re on the Grand Canal. Well,

we turned and are now on this lonely, dark, narrow, and romantic

canal—okay, sort of an alley, except that this is Venice and it is a canal.

Just take a peek…” Minola Grey would not let go and pointed again to

the glass enclosure when she heard Peter groan.

            “I'm sorry. But…but…” She stuttered.

             “Minola, what am I going to do with you? We have moonlight, a

dark intimate canal in front of us, a lantern, and a gondolier who is not

going to sing to us. A perfect setting.”

            “Perfect setting? For what?” she asked, still captivated by the

colorful display on the pier, and she moved closer to the edge of the

gondola so she could see better.

            “You’re going to reduce my vocabulary to Arrgh.” Peter’s voice

sounded resigned. He motioned to the gondolier. “Roberto, please bring

us closer to that pile of glass, whatever it is.” Peter watched as the

gondolier expertly used his foot and a wall to push off so he could

maneuver his gondola as close to the pier as possible, allowing Peter to

step out. “Stay put,” he ordered as she tried to follow him. “I mean it.”

            He gazed back at her and frowned. “Stay.”

            Minola bristled at the order. “I'm not a doggie.” She glanced at his

resolute expression and grudgingly replied, “Fine. I won't budge.”

Minola settled back in the gondola and saw Peter bend down.

Tiny pieces of glass were molded together to form what appeared to

be a blanket for whatever was underneath. The center was well-crafted,

and the colors brilliant. The edges, not finished well, were sharp and

haphazard. Suddenly, he felt those goose bumps on the back of his neck

that told him more than just glass rested on the secluded dock.

            “I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmured.

Cheers,

Margot  Justes

Blood Art

A Hotel in Paris

A Hotel in Bath

A Hotel in Venice

www.mjustes.com