continued, relentless. “Whichever it is, put
us all out our misery.”
Max glared at Giovanni. “Sometimes
you go too far.”
“Go on, apologise. It won’t kill
you.”
“That’s not the point. I’m not saying
I’m sorry – she should apologise.”
“For what? For the fact you were
late, and bit her head off at every turn?”
“I won’t tell you anything in future
if you end up using it against me.”
“So, I’m wrong then?”
Max ground his jaw and struggled to
control his temper. Sometimes he wondered why he was still friends with
Giovanni. His friend did not let him get away with anything – although Max
supposed he gave him the same in return.
“Go to her,” Giovanni urged once
more. “It’s been too long since you even went out on a date with a girl. It’s
making you hard and bitter. Don’t let the memory of Marina and what she did to
you ruin your life.”
Max stared back at Giovanni, hating
him but knowing he spoke the truth. He was starting to remind himself of his
own father; a hard man who treated women, his own wife included, with contempt.
With a muffled curse, Max threw down
his fork and got to his feet. His gaze shifted to Faye’s table before he froze.
The table was empty.
While Max had been deliberating, she
had paid her bill and left. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of green
before she disappeared around the corner.
Max cursed again. Now that he had
decided to speak to her, he could not let it go. Without a word to his friend,
he took off up the street, in pursuit of Faye Wilson.
Turning to watch Max go, Giovanni
smiled.
Finally, Max had admitted to being
human. Now, if he managed to catch up with the girl and apologise, he might be
able to let go of his bitterness. Giovanni had watched his friend grow steadily
unhappier of late. His simmering resentment had taken the shine off his life,
and even risked ruining his success. Giovanni hoped it was not too late for Max
to choose another path.
***
Faye slid on the slippery cobbles and
rolled her ankle. Even with flat sandals on, Venice’s unevenly cobbled streets
were perilous. Righting herself, Faye strode on, determined to put as much
distance as possible between her and the man who had ruined not just her
afternoon, but her evening as well.
She had been looking forward to the
tiramisù, but her dessert tasted like ash once Max Paolini arrived. Worse
still, he kept looking her way; fixing her with that unnerving stare of his.
Eventually, Faye had been unable to take it anymore. She had asked the waiter
for the bill and left the money, including a healthy tip, on the table, before
grabbing her hand bag and fleeing.
“Faye, wait!”
A voice reached her from behind. Faye
cast a glance over her shoulder and saw, to her horror that Max Paolini was
running towards her.
Could this evening get any worse?
“Wait, I need to speak to you!”
He had said plenty to her earlier in
the day – more than enough. Faye was not in the mood to listen to another word
from this man. In response to his calling out her name once more, she put her
head down and ran.
Faye did not know the back-streets of
Venice, and within a couple of blocks she realised she was hopelessly lost.
Yet, she ran on, hoping he would get the message and leave her be.
He did not.
“Faye wait – please!” he shouted, his
voice fainter now as she pulled away from him.
Faye rounded a corner, and made the
mistake of glancing back over her shoulder as she did so. Her foot caught on a
raised cobble and she fell head-long across the narrow street. Unfortunately,
this cobbled stretch ran alongside one of the many canals that criss-crossed
Venice. Faye caught a glimpse of water, glistening in the street lights, before
her. A moment later, she fell into it.
“Faye!” Max heard her scream,
followed by a splash, and rounded the corner to see the woman he had chased
four blocks, break the surface of the canal. She spluttered and flailed
us all out our misery.”
Max glared at Giovanni. “Sometimes
you go too far.”
“Go on, apologise. It won’t kill
you.”
“That’s not the point. I’m not saying
I’m sorry – she should apologise.”
“For what? For the fact you were
late, and bit her head off at every turn?”
“I won’t tell you anything in future
if you end up using it against me.”
“So, I’m wrong then?”
Max ground his jaw and struggled to
control his temper. Sometimes he wondered why he was still friends with
Giovanni. His friend did not let him get away with anything – although Max
supposed he gave him the same in return.
“Go to her,” Giovanni urged once
more. “It’s been too long since you even went out on a date with a girl. It’s
making you hard and bitter. Don’t let the memory of Marina and what she did to
you ruin your life.”
Max stared back at Giovanni, hating
him but knowing he spoke the truth. He was starting to remind himself of his
own father; a hard man who treated women, his own wife included, with contempt.
With a muffled curse, Max threw down
his fork and got to his feet. His gaze shifted to Faye’s table before he froze.
The table was empty.
While Max had been deliberating, she
had paid her bill and left. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of green
before she disappeared around the corner.
Max cursed again. Now that he had
decided to speak to her, he could not let it go. Without a word to his friend,
he took off up the street, in pursuit of Faye Wilson.
Turning to watch Max go, Giovanni
smiled.
Finally, Max had admitted to being
human. Now, if he managed to catch up with the girl and apologise, he might be
able to let go of his bitterness. Giovanni had watched his friend grow steadily
unhappier of late. His simmering resentment had taken the shine off his life,
and even risked ruining his success. Giovanni hoped it was not too late for Max
to choose another path.
***
Faye slid on the slippery cobbles and
rolled her ankle. Even with flat sandals on, Venice’s unevenly cobbled streets
were perilous. Righting herself, Faye strode on, determined to put as much
distance as possible between her and the man who had ruined not just her
afternoon, but her evening as well.
She had been looking forward to the
tiramisù, but her dessert tasted like ash once Max Paolini arrived. Worse
still, he kept looking her way; fixing her with that unnerving stare of his.
Eventually, Faye had been unable to take it anymore. She had asked the waiter
for the bill and left the money, including a healthy tip, on the table, before
grabbing her hand bag and fleeing.
“Faye, wait!”
A voice reached her from behind. Faye
cast a glance over her shoulder and saw, to her horror that Max Paolini was
running towards her.
Could this evening get any worse?
“Wait, I need to speak to you!”
He had said plenty to her earlier in
the day – more than enough. Faye was not in the mood to listen to another word
from this man. In response to his calling out her name once more, she put her
head down and ran.
Faye did not know the back-streets of
Venice, and within a couple of blocks she realised she was hopelessly lost.
Yet, she ran on, hoping he would get the message and leave her be.
He did not.
“Faye wait – please!” he shouted, his
voice fainter now as she pulled away from him.
Faye rounded a corner, and made the
mistake of glancing back over her shoulder as she did so. Her foot caught on a
raised cobble and she fell head-long across the narrow street. Unfortunately,
this cobbled stretch ran alongside one of the many canals that criss-crossed
Venice. Faye caught a glimpse of water, glistening in the street lights, before
her. A moment later, she fell into it.
“Faye!” Max heard her scream,
followed by a splash, and rounded the corner to see the woman he had chased
four blocks, break the surface of the canal. She spluttered and flailed
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