Meet Me in Venice Read Online Free PDF

at her, laughing, and one hawked up his phlegm and spat it at her.
    “Jesus!” She stepped back, disgusted, and felt her heel strike a foot. A man’s arms snaked around her and she screamed. A crowd was gathering, staring and grinning. Furious, she swung round and let the man holding her have it with a right to the face. He caught her arm before the punch connected.
    “Careful,” he said. “You could hurt somebody like that.”
    Mary-Lou stared up at the best-looking man she had ever seen. Tall, broad-shouldered, rangy in that American way, dark-haired and with intense unsmiling blue eyes that linked sexily with her own. And she knew him. Or rather she knew who he was. Not long ago, the stories about the accidental death of his wealthy wife had dominated the media for several weeks.
    “I know you,” she said, still scowling.
    “And I would like to know you,” he said. “That is if you promise not to grind my foot with your heel and not to keep on punching.”
    Mary-Lou looked into his eyes for what seemed a long time. “Okay,” she said finally.
    He let go of her arm. “So what happened?”
    “Someone stole my car.”
    He nodded. “I’m not surprised. They’d steal the teeth from your mouth around here. You should always bring a guard, let him stay with the car while you take care of whatever business brings you here.”
    He did not ask her what that business might be, nor did she ask why he was there. Direct questions about why you were in this shady area were off-limits. Everyone kept their “business” to themselves.
    “My car’s just down the street,” he said. “How about I give you a lift, then you can contact the police, tell them the details.”
    “Much good it’ll do,” she said bitterly, making him laugh again.
    “Hey,” he said, “It’s only a car. I assume it was insured.”
    “Yes,” she said gloomily, “but it’ll be ages and mountains of paperwork before they settle. I know how they are too.”
    “For such a beautiful woman, you’re a true cynic,” he said, motioning the guard to open the car door for her.
    Mary-Lou got into the camouflage green Hummer. He walked around to the other side and got in next to her. “Where to?” he asked. She turned to look at him, a long deep look. “To the nearest good bar,” she said in her throaty whisper.

SEVEN
    B ENNETT Yuan took her to the Bar Rouge on the Bund, not too far from where Mary-Lou lived. It was a chic modernist place with huge blowup photos of pouting red-lipsticked Asian beauties framed in matching red-lacquered wood that also acted as screens, giving privacy to the booths and tables. Dozens of ruby red Venetian chandeliers spilled a muted pink light, and the windows and terrace offered views of the Shanghai skyline.
    He sat opposite, not next to her as she had expected and she pouted prettily. “I can see you better this way,” he explained. “Do you know why I brought you here?” She shook her head.
    “Because you are more beautiful than any of these girls on the walls.” He looked her in the eyes, a long deep look that made Mary-Lou shiver right down to the pit of her belly. “Youhaven’t yet told me your name,” he said. “Or do you prefer to be anonymous?”
    “It’s Mary-Lou Chen. And I know your name, I’ve seen your picture in the newspapers.”
    He shrugged, dismissively. “Then I’m the one who would prefer anonymity. And what would you like to drink, Mary-Lou Chen?”
    He summoned the waiter as Mary-Lou thought for a minute. “I’d like a glass of champagne,” she decided, but Bennett ordered a bottle.
    They sat in silence, still looking deep into each other’s eyes, recognizing the possibility of what might happen between them, until the waiter reappeared with a silver ice bucket on a stand, and the champagne. He wrapped the bottle in a white cloth then uncorked it expertly with hardly even a pop, just a wisp of air floating from its neck. He poured a little for Bennett to taste and when