Heartis Venice Novels & Stories

"Who knows if you two are divorced?" He had no comeback, finally giving up on the key but pleading to have the keychain. "After she checked out, which city did she go to?" he asked, clutching the keychain. The receptionist rolled her eyes. "You're her husband, and you don't know where she went?" Vance knew he would get nothing more out of her. That evening in Venice, the city glowed with lights. Pigeons wheeled over St. Mark's Square while a blonde woman in a red gown sang opera, accompanied by a violin.

Betty's voice was barely audible as she whispered, "I know you're a good man, Mateo." Mateo's eyes dropped to her other hand, as she gently raised it placing it on his chest. He was surprised as she touched the scar on his chest. A small smile played on her lips as she said, "Beneath this torn flesh is a golden heart, but hidden by the scar of a feared man."

Swiftly flicking his cigarette, he forcefully turned the steering wheel in the opposite direction, causing the car to spin in circles around the girl. On the other side, Hiya, with her heart pounding, witnessed a black Mercedes approaching rapidly. Overwhelmed with fear, she clasped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tightly, anticipating an imminent tragedy. In that moment, she believed it was her last day in this world, facing an inevitable and untimely demise.

I was adrift in a sea of uncertainty, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and a strange, inexplicable longing. "I don't understand," I whispered, my voice barely a breath in the quiet cabin. His words, laced with a mocking amusement, hung in the air, a heavy weight on my heart. "Virgin woman, doesn't understand what I'm trying to say," he sneered, that devilish grin playing on his lips before he turned and walked away.

He noticed her reaction and gently blew air onto her burn… When Hazel felt his cool breath on her hand, she looked at Timothy’s side profile, and her heart fluttered. Her heart was going crazy…

He wasn’t going in,he just stood there,staring at me. And then he started walking up to me. My mouth fell open as he stood in front of me. Slowly,I looked up to meet his eyes. They were filled with lust and I felt my legs weaken at the intensity. His hand came to grip my face,his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. Our gazes locked,our quickened breaths sounding around us. I thought what happened in Venice was supposed to stay in Venice. He bent his head and kissed me. My mind and body filled with him and everything else melted away.

My mother was unrecognizable. It was very obvious to me that she hated Mrs. Elena. And what made my skin crawl and made me overthink everything was the fact that Elena was dead and my mother didn't show even a little bit of feeling. She didn't care, I could see it in her face. Then she said to me:

But. I was still hoping I guess, that we would be able to work it out. I couldn't hate him, even when I had every reason to. After all, he was the only man I had ever loved. And he was the only man I was going to love. Because the heart is a bitch, you can't make it understand by reasoning with it. It forgets all the hurt someone caused you, all the pain, all the misery. It only remembers those moments when someone made you breathless. Over and over, it just runs toward one person. And unfortunately for me, that one person was Landon.

“Venice… Even though I do not remember what exactly happened before, I know that I would not hate you because of that. Your happiness is also my happiness so I would not dare ruin it. However…” Venice started driving again as they made a turn at the main intersection of the city. “However what?” she pressed when she finally parked her car. Hestia stepped out and before she shut the door, she leaned down to meet Venice’s eyes. “Are you sure Grayson is marrying you out of love or is it out of obligation?” Those were her last words before walking away. Hestia smirked, knowing that Venice cannot just exit her car and run after her to ask whatever she meant with those words.

Revenge proves its own executioner. - John Ford, The Broken Heart * * * * Soft soothing music could be heard coming from the magnificent Hotel De Labelle in Venice, a city in western Italy. The lights that decorated the outside of the hotel seemed almost mythical and magical-like, lighting up the hotel as well as the pathways for the guests. Many politicians as well as several members of Italy’s wealthiest families were making their way to the ballroom of the hotel, all in formal wear.