Mason isn’t able to push her away but he does try to step back from her. He attempts to twist his lips away from her ravenous mouth but she doesn’t allow him as she tightens her arms around his neck like a vise. Finally, Mason seems to come to his senses and phases to my side but the damage has already been done. His lips are marked with scarlet red lipstick which is smeared on his lips and up the side of his left cheek from when he tried to stop the kiss.
I stare at Mason.
My heart feels like it’s just been hammered into a million pieces and the remnants are simply trying to keep me alive. He opens his mouth to say something to me but is cut off by the shrill laughter of the woman in the blue dress as she comes up to him and loops an arm through one of his with comfortable familiarity.
“Are we playing that game tonight, amante?” The woman asks Mason in a low intimate voice, her accent Italian. “You know I will let you win every time.”
I don’t need to be told what ‘amante’ means because I already have a pretty good idea from the intimate way she murmured the word to Mason.
“Julietta, don’t,” Mason says to the woman harshly, trying to extricate his arm from hers without spilling the contents of the glass in that arm’s hand. He fails to release himself from her hold because the woman named Julietta refuses to let him go so easily.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in Venice?” She asks, completely oblivious to my presence. “I would have met you at the hotel, mia cara.”
Julietta leans her head lovingly against Mason’s arm. I feel the sting of tears burn the back of my eyes because I know what this woman is: one of Mason’s previous lovers. The realization of this knowledge spurs me into action. I turn on my heels and walk out of the room down the hallway, which I know will lead me to the entrance of the house. The further I walk the faster my gate becomes until I’m practically running for the door. I lift the front of my skirt with both hands to make my escape easier. People are staring at me as I make my retreat but I really don’t care. I just want out.
When I reach the front door, Mason is standing there to block my way. Sometime between my departure from him and now he ditched the glasses of champagne.
“Jess,” he says desperately, “let me explain.”
I just stare at him because he still wears Julietta’s red lipstick on his face.
“Get out of my way,” I order. I see him flinch at the venom in my voice but he doesn’t budge.
“Not until you let me explain.”
“You don’t have to explain,” I tell him scathingly. “I got the picture. In fact, it’s pretty much scorched in my memory forever now.”
I turn to walk away from Mason, determined to find another way out of the house when I feel him grab my arm. I instantly find myself in the parlor of our hotel room.
“Don’t touch me,” I growl at him, as I wrench my arm out of his grasp.
“Jess, please,” he begs. “I didn’t even think about the possibility of her being there tonight.”
I don’t look at him because I know if I do the look on his face might quell the anger I feel, and I don’t want to give it up so easily.
I feel like I can’t take a full breath so I rip the butterfly mask off my face, throwing it at Mason. He catches it in one hand but doesn’t pay attention to the strength he uses. The mask crumbles into pieces in his grasp. I just stare at it realizing it’s the same thing he’s done to my heart.
“Was she one of your lovers?” I ask him, finally forcing myself to look up at his face, daring him to lie to me.
I can tell he’s tried to wipe off Julietta’s lip stick but a scarlet stain still remains against his lips and cheek.
He looks at me beseechingly, as if asking me to forgive the answer he’s about to give.
“Yes. She was.”
My heart rips a little bit more.
“And is this the hotel you used to bring her to?” I ask.
He hesitates but says,