It’s destiny, her lioness hummed.
Was it? All she knew was that something about Tony made her soul sing. He treated her as an equal — a refreshing novelty in the city of Casanova. When he listened, he really listened, as if there was nothing more important in the world. And when he looked at her — well, her body heated along with her glowing eyes.
She cleared her throat. “You really think Theo won’t stand out after his grand entrance?”
Tony sighed. His Greek friend — a tall dragon shifter with striking green eyes and shoulders a mile wide — had arrived in Venice within forty-eight hours of Tony’s call. Cara had expected him to arrive by plane, train, or even ferry. But no. Theo had shown up in a sleek, sixty-five-foot sailing yacht.
And not just any yacht — his yacht.
Hardly inconspicuous, Tony had commented dryly.
Theo had shrugged. Are you kidding? It’s the smallest one I have.
Apparently, the man was heir to a fortune worth billions, and he dressed the part. Everywhere he went, women turned their heads.
But if Cara worried about the attention Theo drew, Tony hadn’t been concerned.
In Venice, a dozen millionaire playboys make their grand entrances every day. But the minute you turn into a lowly guard, no one pays attention any more.
And he was right. The moment Theo had stepped into the Guardians’ palace, he’d switched to no-nonsense soldier mode. He’d managed to fade quietly into the background, though his watchful eyes never ceased inspecting faces or tracking sounds.
Cara paddled a few more strokes, then looked back. Fiorina needed protection, but she needed familiar faces too. Was it selfish to take a break?
Tony laughed. “You’re like a mother hen.”
God, she loved seeing him smile. Somehow, it seemed like a rare thing. So rare, she couldn’t help but grin back.
“The way you were like an overprotective father?”
He chuckled. “Allora, maybe I was a little too hard on Rocco.”
Her laugh echoed down the canal. “A little?”
When they’d left Theo and Rocco to guard Fiorina, Tony had practically growled at them. Don’t let her leave the palace. And don’t even think about messing around with her. She’s too young.
His younger cousin had laughed. What are you, her father?
Tony had thumped a finger against his cousin’s chest. The. Next. Best. Thing.
Cara grinned at the memory. Fiorina had ended up with a damn fine team of bodyguards. Still, it was probably a good thing the canal was so narrow. Otherwise…
“Don’t even think about turning back,” Tony said, reading her mind.
“Just feeling guilty, I guess.”
“For leaving Fiorina for an hour?”
“For wanting to leave. For wanting to get back to my job and my life.” She sighed and paddled onward. “There. I said it. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
It was a joke, but even so, he made it sound like an eternal vow, making her warm. Then he nodded toward her oar. “Guilty is me sitting here while you do all the work.”
She shook her head. “I love rowing. I need it, too, in a way. You know, to unwind.”
Tony looked like he knew just how she felt, though she guessed his means of unwinding might involve a punching bag or heavy weights.
“Besides, this is where the magic of Venice is — the canals, the side streets. Plus, it’s good exercise.”
“You sure know how to handle an oar.”
Her laugh echoed up the walls of the buildings rising five stories on either side of the narrow canal. Up past lines of laundry, past the leaves sticking out from a lush rooftop garden, past the soothing notes of an operatic pop song playing on Radio Ribelle, the local station.
“Family tradition. My dad and most of my uncles are boatbuilders. They specialize in making regular rowboats, but they’ve made a few gondolas too, just for kicks. A gondola in the Great Lakes — it’s quite a sight.” She laughed. “I rowed in college too — a totally different type of rowing, but still. If you have shoulders like mine, you might as well put them to good use.”
He smiled, and his eyes wandered over her body, telling her he liked what he saw, including her sturdy build. Then he jerked his gaze away, making her love him all the more. Unlike some cocky men, Tony knew where the line lay between admiring and leering.
“My great-grandfather’s side of the family were gondoliers here in Venice,” she continued. “I guess it’s in our blood. My sister runs the business end of the family boatyard, and one of my brothers runs the rental branch of the company…”
He grinned. “Family business, huh? I picture a pride of lions taking a midday nap in the sun.”
“I’m the only lion.” When he cocked his head, she went on. “My great-grandmother was a lion, but my great-grandfather was a dragon shifter. Quite the scandal in their day, from what I hear. Their kids were all dragon shifters, as are all the shifters on the other side of my family. I’m the first lion born in years.” She sighed. “Lucky me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You wish you were a dragon?”
I wish I could fly, she nearly said.
Instead, she faked a laugh. “And trade my nice, soft lion pelt for leathery skin? No thank you.”
Tony’s eyes sparkled as if he was hit by the very same out-of-nowhere vision of the two of them in lion form, nuzzling intimately. She would wind her neck around his, relishing the feel of his thick mane. Meanwhile, Tony would gently push back, rumbling with pleasure…
Cara missed her next oar stroke, splashing the surface like an amateur.
Tony blushed under his short-cropped beard. “I guess that explains your eyes. One blue, one green.”
As a kid, she’d hated being different. But as she’d grown up, she’d come to embrace who she was. Well…mostly.
She shrugged it off. “My eyes might be a mix, but I’m all lion. And that’s my only problem in Venice. No place for a big cat to roam.”
“Here, no. But out on the islands…” Tony’s eyes took on a faraway look, and his nostrils flared as if he could sniff some special place.
She wanted to ask about that place — and so much more. Where he’d grown up, what he’d done in his years away, what he planned to do next.
Instead, she fell into silence, and Tony did too. His sharp eyes roamed around, registering familiar landmarks. At times, his expression turned merry, and he shared some childhood escapades, like joining friends in sneaking in to one of the boarded-up palaces they passed. Other times, his expression grew sad or wistful, and he murmured occasionally.
“Signora Benedetti lived there.” He looked in the direction of a boarded-over house. “My grandmother’s friend. She made the best biscotti…”
Cara stroked along quietly, taking in the city with new eyes. What would it be like to face banishment forever? Or to come home unexpectedly, only to find that so much had changed?
She paddled along, then used her foot to push off the corner of a building to negotiate the tight turn. As she did, she let out the standard gondolier’s call of warning.
“Oeh!”
The moment they made the turn, a fresh breeze blew in her face, and a light slap sounded against the bow. They were nearing the city’s outer limits, where the protected canals gradually gave way to the open lagoon.