It was all I could not to fall on my knees there and then, unzip his trousers and take his magnificent cock in my mouth.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was on track for the Venice fundraiser,” he said, as I struggled to regain my composure.
“Yes, of course.” I walked over to the coffee table and pulled out my leather binder with floor plans, ticket sales, and everything that had to do with the ball. “The supplies has been arranged, venue tickets are sold out, and as soon as I arrive I’m meeting with the vendors -”
“Sold out?”
“Yes, I thought you knew.”
“No, I did not. We’ve never sold out a charity ball before.”
Was that a hint of approval? Was he impressed with my work? I couldn’t tell. His blue eyes were so distracting that I stuttered through my words.
“I have a friend that works in marketing, and she has a knack for selling high priced ticket items like this. The key is to make it an experience for a good cause, instead of a donation for a good cause.”
“Then it had better be as promised. An experience, I mean.”
I was silent. He was being so cold. How was this the same man that awoke every desire in my body?
How was he the same man that took me so passionately in the garden? How was he the same man that flirted with me so aggressively when we first met?
Right then he was a completely different person. I was expecting an explanation for it all at any moment but he just stood there and looked at me up and down.
I suddenly felt inadequately dressed for what was obviously a business meeting.
“Did Max tell you the car will pick you up at ten in the morning tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will be taking the private jet.”
“Jet? I thought I had airline tickets?”
“No, you are booked on my jet. It’s not for your comfort. I expect you to make the most of your time and use it to do any final preparations. This is a very important event.” He crossed the room to the door.
I just stood there. He was being a downright jerk. I wanted to slap him. Who did he think he was coming on to me so aggressively and then treating me like one of his lackeys?
Yet, I had to remember that however he made me feel, Clay Roth was my boss and my entire career was in his hands.
6
The next day I travelled to Venice alone on Clay’s private jet.
I had not spoken to him again since that last meeting. I didn’t want to either. I’d been humiliated and now I just wanted to do my job and do it well.
From this point on his assistant Max, became my main source of communication for Clay’s charity foundation. I was relieved.
Maybe it was possible to have this position and not have to talk to Clay again. It wasn’t clear whether he would even be in attendance at the event in Italy. His busy schedule might not allow it.
On the jet signs of Clay were everywhere. It was a masculine space with dark woods and brandy. It made me long for him. I was served the best foods by an attractive flight attendant and I couldn’t help but to assume that Clay had been with her as well. During the flight, I buried myself in my work, and then slept the rest of the way.
After landing at the airport a black car was waiting for me. It drove me to the docks whereupon a private boat took me to the beautiful city on the canals.
It had been years since I had visited the most romantic place in the world, and even then it was a tourist trip. This was different. I would be living here for weeks while I organized the ball. It was like a dream come true.
The vaparetto stopped on the outskirts at a small dock and from there I boarded a small watercraft with a slow engine that took me to my new living quarters.
It was early morning and the Venetians were just waking up. The small motorboat stopped along the side of a small canal in front of a step of grey stone stairs that went from the sidewalk straight into the water. A kind man carried my luggage up the stairs and I followed to a large gate. I pulled on a rope and the bell rang. A maid answered. She greeted me kindly, and said, “I am Sofia, Andiamo.”
I walked in the gate to a large courtyard garden and a massive palazzo. I thought I was staying in a hotel but by the looks of it, this was a private residence.
I immediately guessed it must be Clay’s. I started to feel flushed and panicked. Would he be here? Or did he let me stay here because he knew that he would not be here?
So many questions, and I could not get answers. I was too embarrassed to ask Max for any information about Clay, because I didn’t want him to see that I might be asking because I was romantically interested.
My bags were taken care of while I shown inside. Through the enormous wooden stairs was a large entryway. Beautiful Italian marble floors and colossal columns were the first thing you saw.
The décor looked like it had been there since the early 1500s with heavy tapestries and rich paintings. The furniture ranged from Renaissance to Victorian yet it was warm and inviting, not cold like in a museum. It was breathtaking.
Right then, I knew I had made the right decision to keep this job. No other job would give me these types of experiences.
I just had to deal with the bed I had made for myself by stupidly being intimate with the boss. I would just have to forgive myself and move on. The work was the most important thing now and the experience alone would be incredible for my resume.
I was led up the intricately carved staircase to my room, which was one fit for a princess. The canopy bed was draped in fine white lace, and the large windows over looked the Grand Canal and some of the smaller island surrounding the main city, San Marco. The armoire was massive and evidently from a time long gone. The walls were covered in light mint green silk wallpaper with soft patterns. A heavy wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed and beautiful paintings of gardens and Italian landscapes adorned the walls.
It was heaven. Even after a long flight I was excited to walk through the city. I decided I would take a hot bath, a small nap, and then head out in time for lunch.
In the early afternoon I was ready. It was three days before the Carnivale celebrations were set to start. My event was in the last week of the festival and on the last day. Basically it would be a closing ball.
This meant I had some time to enjoy the festivities and all that Venice had to offer.
I left the palazzo and strolled down the beautiful canal side sidewalks in San Marco with out any sense of where I was going. I would just let the magic of the town guide me.
I walked until I came across a sidewalk café with lots of charm. I sat down and ordered a cappuccino and light tomato salad with olive oil and of course fresh baked bread for lunch. It was absolute heaven. This was everything I wanted it to be.
After lunch it was straight to business. I had an appointment to see the space where our ball would be held. I decided to take a gondola since I had plenty of time to spare.
I gave the gondolier the address and sat back and enjoyed the leisurely boat ride. Tomorrow was the official kick off for Carnivale and Venice was already buzzing. People casually wore the famous masquerade mask, but most were not in full dress. This would definitely be a sight to see.
The gondola pulled up to an old palace. It was massive, done in the same style as the Doges Palace. This was to be my event space for the charity ball. It was perfect.
There was more than one landing and staircase that lead up to the massive gates. This allowed for high traffic for those coming by water. For those walking the entrance was on the other side of the building.
“You must be Eva?” a cheery Italian woman yelled at me from the gate.