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“Grazie, amore,” she says, keeping her focus on Gio—no, on her submissive. And seeing their interaction feels intimate as if we’re intruding on something beautiful. With a slight nod, he moves and sits on her side, facing the room, becoming a barrier between her and the rest of the world.
Like Jon does for me…
“Buonasera, Jon and David. I’m so happy you’re joining us,” she says, gesturing for us to sit opposite her and Gio. “I’ve asked the chef to prepare some antipasti and ordered Spritz Veneziano. You can’t leave Venice without sampling our famous cocktail. The hotel prides itself on this speciality.”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you,” Jon says, letting me enter the booth first and following closely behind. As soon as we’re seated, a server arrives with our drinks and a large platter filled with nuts, fruits, cheeses, olives, salami, prosciutto, and focaccia.
My stomach chooses that moment to grumble, and the table erupts in laughter. Gio’s is deep, and the Contessa’s laugh is sweet and genuine, and I feel myself relax in her presence.
I am Jon’s submissive; he is my Dom, my husband, and no matter what happens tonight, I know he will always be by my side.
I think I’m a little—okay, a lot—intimidated by the Contessa, and that’s why I freeze up when I’m around her. Not because of her Domme-ness—Is that a word? I don’t know. But I think her poise and refinement give her a royal aura that overawes me.
Now, though, I can see she’s only human, and she actually wants to spend time with us, so I can be myself.
“I might be a little famished,” I say, smiling at our hosts.
“Please, please, eat,” Gio says. “My brother prepared it especially. He wouldn’t want to look bad in front of the boss,” he says, looking at the Contessa.
“You own the hotel?” Jon asks.
“It’s a family business. I run the hotel and Gio’s family the restaurant,” she explains, using her hands in a flourish to indicate the room.
“You have a magnificent establishment. I’ve never stayed in such grandeur,” I say, loading a piece of focaccia with salami and provolone cheese.
“Thank you very much, David. It’s my favourite, but our most successful hotel is in Roma, the Trevi Hotel.”
“Well, I don’t believe you. We’ll just need to go there and decide for ourselves.”
“Fabulous. When will you be going to Roma?” she asks, sipping her intense red/orange drink.
“We’ll be travelling there from Florence on the twenty-third and staying a week,” Jon says, throwing his arm along the back of the booth and softly twirling my hair around his fingers.
“Let me arrange a dinner for you at our hotel. That way, you can make a more informed decision about which hotel is your favourite, David,” she says.
“He’d rather have breakfast,” Jon says, and I swing my head to look at him.
“What? Oh… yes, I absolutely would,” I say, and my mouth waters just thinking about the Nutella tart.
“Well, I suppose that can also be arranged…” she says, frowning.
“David loves the Nutella tart. He’s demanded to have it at home as well.”
“I’ll ask my sister for the recipe. She’ll be pleased to know how much you enjoy it.”
“Why are you being so nice to us? You don’t know us. I don’t understand…” I ask, and my heart speeds up, hoping I haven’t insulted the Contessa or Gio.
“May I be frank?” she asks, directing the question to Jonathan.
“You may,” he replies, his voice level.
“I was arrested by your beauty yesterday when we saw you at breakfast. I like beautiful things. Also, I am intrigued by the way you interact with each other. You appear to have a perfect balance. Neither one is stronger nor weaker than the other, yet I got the impression that you were in a power play relationship, like Gio and me,” she explains.
“Thank you, I think. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re going out of your way for us.”
“The hotel is a family business, but I have another business. And I would very much like you to visit it for selfish reasons… I would like to see your beauty in my club.”
“A club?” Jon asks, his finger still leisurely twirling the hair at the nape of my neck.
