Half Empty (First Wives #2)

Then there was Shannon. She was harder to read. She’d probably just thank Trina, pat her on the back, and then let her know if she ever wanted to talk, she’d be there.

Avery was going to take some work. Considering Trina and Avery were the closest out of all of them, Trina would do her best to sweeten the pot.

Maybe tomorrow morning she’d take the gondola ride with Tall, Dark, and Italian. She’d snap a selfie of the two of them and tell Avery she was distracted by Dante. Just the thought of Trina smiling at the opposite sex would help Avery get over her absence.

With a plan in motion, Trina finished the paperwork on the expensive glass and strolled the rest of the island without a worry in the world.



Dante was much better looking up close. “No singing today?” Trina asked when she exited her hotel at seven o’clock sharp. If she asked enough questions, she’d forget that she was on a kinda date. Or maybe she was reading into the situation.

He jumped off his gondola and approached her as if they already knew one another. First a kiss on the right cheek, and then another on the left. Trina stepped back to regain her personal space.

“If it is song you want, then song you shall have.” Before she could laugh and tell him she was kidding, he let out a note that shook the walls of the buildings around them.

Trina put a hand on his arm. “Kidding. I was kidding,” she said in English. “Shh, you’ll wake everyone.”

“You’re right. I want to keep your beauty to myself.”

He had a sly smile and a playful wink. “Come . . .” He extended his hand to help her into the small boat. “Have you been on a gondola before?”

“No.”

He shook his head, the white-brimmed hat casting shadows on his face. “Such a shame.”

“You really didn’t have to do this,” she told him.

“It is my pleasure. I’ll show you many hidden gems in my city.”

She settled into the seat facing forward. Dante stood in the back and used a single paddle to power and steer the handmade vessel. “I’ve been here for almost three weeks. I think I’ve walked every street.”

“But you haven’t sailed every canal.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “True.” Before she forgot, Trina slid her cell phone from her back pocket and pretended to take a picture of the scenery in front of her. Instead, she snapped a selfie, capturing Dante behind her. That would hold Avery over.

The city had yet to wake, and the temperature had cooled down quite a bit from the day before. “This is the best time of day,” he told her.

It was easier talking without looking at him. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Five years.”

“You enjoy it?”

“What’s not to love? I see beautiful women like yourself. Spend my days on the water and sing for a few extra euros.”

A simple life. “You make it sound romantic.”

“It’s Venezia. Even the buildings drip of romance.”

Trina looked up at the vertical brick and stucco walls in varying colors and stages of decay. “Is it really sinking?” she asked him.

“Sadly. But our government has vowed to keep the city afloat.”

One good earthquake off the coast and that government effort wouldn’t mean a thing.

“Let’s hope their efforts aren’t in vain.”

Dante put his foot to the side of a building and steered them down a smaller canal.

“Your Italian is impressive. Have you lived in Italy?”

“No. I’ve visited a few times.”

“Then you have family who taught you as a child.”

She leaned back. “I’ve only studied Italian for six months.”

He stopped rowing briefly. “Again, I’m impressed.”

His shameless flirting brought a lightness to the inside of her chest. She didn’t take him seriously. Not completely, in any event. The flirtation had to be limited in light of the fact that she needed to make an effort to leave Venice in a few days. Even if she had to switch planes in Paris, and perhaps end up delayed there for a few days, or a week. She had half a chance of convincing the First Wives that she was sincere in her struggle to get home, even though she’d be channeling Pinocchio while she smiled.

“What are you thinking of, Bella?”

“That my trip here is coming to an end.”

He grunted, and she looked over her shoulder.

His bottom lip was pushed out in a childish pout.

Trina rolled her eyes.

“We just met, surely you can stay a little longer,” Dante pleaded.

She shrugged, looked forward again. “We’ll see.”

“These words I can work with.” And with that, Dante started to sing.

Halfway through his song, the wind kicked up, and the sky above them started to darken.

“It appears that we must cut this short,” he said as he pushed the gondola toward the nearest dock. Luckily for him, the docks were on every corner.

A boom of thunder brought her attention to the change in Dante’s smile.

He secured the gondola to the dock with a single rope and used his weight to hold the rocking vessel steady while helping her onto dry land.

Lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled quickly behind.

Dante scrambled over his boat to cover the seats with a fitted tarp. He was halfway through when the rain started to pelt down.

Trina wanted to help but knew she’d just be in the way.

Instead, she stood in the warm Venezia thunderstorm and proceeded to get soaked. There was something cathartic about purposely standing in the rain and letting the water run down her hair. Standing there with someone, even a someone she didn’t really know, was better than being there alone.

The second Dante finished covering the gondola, he jumped to her side, grasped her shoulders, and rushed them down a small alley that opened into a plaza. As in most of the squares in Venezia, there was a church with a large overhang to protect them from the rain.

Not that it mattered—they were both dripping in the shadow of the building.

Thunder ripped through again and the rain flew at them sideways.

They both moved as close as they could to the door, and still the rain managed to reach their feet.

Looking down at her soaked shirt and cotton shorts, Trina started to laugh.

Soon Dante joined her.

“This is nuts,” she said in English.

“It can last for hours or minutes,” he told her.

She poked her head out from under the eaves and looked at the gray sky.

“I think we’re somewhere in between.” When she looked at Dante again, he was standing closer. He reached out and pushed a wet strand of hair from her face.

Kiss one for me. Avery’s voice buzzed like an annoying fly in her head.

“You are so very beautiful.”

“And you’re a player.”

“Guilty,” he said as he stepped closer.

Just one kiss. It wouldn’t kill ya!

“Shut up, Avery,” Trina whispered in English.

Dante licked his lips. “Talking yourself out of my attention, or into my affections?”

She shivered, knowing before he leaned in that she would not have to lie to her best friend.

He moved slowly, giving her time to back away.

Trina didn’t.

And when Dante kissed her, she forced her eyes to close and her head to tilt back.

It was nice . . . okay, maybe a bit more than just nice. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone, she thought maybe she’d forgotten how.

Dante, on the other hand, knew exactly how to kiss.

When his hand reached around her waist, and he pulled her into his arms, Trina panicked.

“Bella. You’re so lovely,” he said again, his lips set close to her ear. “We could make beautiful love.”

Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

She put a hand on his chest. “I don’t think . . .”

“No one needs to know. Just you, and me. I won’t tell your husband and you won’t tell my wife.”

Trina froze, her gaze moving to the hand she had on his chest.

Fedor’s ring stared her in the eye.

She pushed. “I’m not.” Oh, God. “But you are? You’re married?”

Dante didn’t stop smiling. “Don’t deny. It’s okay. I don’t care.”

Trina ducked out from under his arm and into the pouring rain.

Only then did Dante’s grin fall.

“I’m not married, asshole!” she said in English. And because it sounded even harsher in Russian, she tossed that language at him, too.