Renaissance: An erotic hotwife suspense series (The Cayman Proxy 6) by Morrison KT

Author:Morrison, KT [Morrison, KT]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-07-03T04:00:00+00:00

4

Kate’s gaze came down from the Cinzano advertisement over the door of the bus and she stepped out into the sunlight in downtown Florence. She hated to ask Omar for money but she couldn't spend another day holed up in the room at the resort. She walked into Scarpieri e San Piero in the morning and took the 302 bus for an hour into the city. Now she was standing, squinting, on Via Roma in the tourist-thick heart of the city.

Omar had given her a bunch of bills and she had to look away, embarrassed for him, she knew all about the budget. Omar was in a great mood this morning. There must have been a burden on him and it had been lifted. Like all that he had to do now was run a good race tomorrow. He'd already accomplished what he'd come for, now all that was left was the easy part. When he'd handed her the bills, laid them out one at a time into her open hand, he told her she should get herself something nice for the lunch on Sunday. Something pretty, he'd said.

Kate felt at home here, home in this part of town. Walking the narrow street between luxury shops in the tall renaissance buildings with their balconies and their shuttered windows. A man in a small carriage with two Americans in it behind him passed, she wasn't even bothered by his horse; this was too fine a day.

Kate poked around a while, browsing, touching and looking, holding things out on their hangers, running the fabric over her skin to find out how it would feel. After an hour she stopped at a café in a plaza and had a cappuccino and a cornetto and watched the people in the street. She loved Italy. She'd never been to Florence before, but Mitch took her to Rome two years ago. Mitch was the greatest tour guide, he'd already been everywhere and he could tell you the history of all the buildings, how things used to be in the space where you were standing; he loved the art and learning about the local customs…

Fuck, she felt that flush come over her again. Touching her palm to her forehead like she had a fever, her breath quivered. She had to get moving—stood up and left the café, walked out into the foot traffic. If she wasn't moving those thoughts that hunted her would find her. They moved slow; but you couldn't sit too long or they would catch up with you.

The doors to a department store—Lanzovitali, in gold Roman letters—shining glass set in polished black marble invited her in, told her that this was her kind of place. The store was air-conditioned, peaceful, filled with her favourite things. It put her at ease and in a few moments, walking the aisles and looking at familiar products her pulse had slowed and her mind was away again, free to ignore anything it didn't want to think about.

After she'd tried a few dresses on, she even felt the happiness return.

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