to see, to experience.’
‘Amelia Earhart, look out, huh? Next thing you will need to learn is how to fly and you can see the world at your own leisure.’
‘I already know how to fly. I learned at the start of this year.’
‘Of course you did, why am I not surprised?’ he said as he crossed his legs. ‘I tell you what, I’m gonna break my own rule. I will throw you birthday dinner. I’ll send my car to pick you up at 6.00 pm. We finish early today, which will give us plenty of time.’
‘Six? I thought everyone ate later in Italy.’
‘Well, I want to take you somewhere special,’ he answered enigmatically. ‘A surprise, stay tuned, Amelia.’
Sapphira thought of another night in her library, reading and smoking and then thought of an evening with Jack. ‘It’s a date!’
‘Friends, remember?’
‘I remember,’ said Sapphira. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Your virtue is safe with me, Mr Reynolds.’ And she stood up and went to the set for her next close-up.
That evening, she was dressed for sex. She wore a Blumarine leopard print silk strapless dress, with huge Moroccan wooden bangles she had picked up on her last shoot in Marrakesh and a pair of Yves Saint Laurent black suede ankle boots. Her hair was swept back into a bun, high on her head, and she wore minimal make-up and a liberal amount of her customized Lyn Harris perfume, leaving a trail of amber, musk and jasmine.
The helicopter that picked her up in Perugia landed at Nicelli Airport at 7.10 pm and Sapphira was whisked straight into a waiting water limousine and taken through the canals towards Jack. Venice was spectacular. The sun was still up and the canals were busy. The white, navy trimmed leather seats and the mahogany panelled walls and tinted windows gave her complete privacy to watch Venice without any interruption or distraction. It truly was an amazing city, she thought, as they sailed down the Grand Canal.
There was a bottle of French Champagne on the small mahogany table with a note written by Jack –
Happy birthday, Amelia, enjoy the ride.
Pouring herself a glass, she sat forward on her chair and enjoyed the view. The buildings and people floated past her and Sapphira imagined for a moment she was in a magical land filled with the most wonderful buildings the human mind could create, all floating and rocking their inhabitants to sleep each night.
Soon, they turned off the canal and the boat came to a stop. Sapphira heard the captain speaking Italian and then the door opened. She alighted and was standing on the edge of the canal in front of huge carved wooden doors, which opened. Jack stood with his arms open. ‘Happy birthday, kid!’
Sapphira walked into them and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Howdy, Jack. Look at this place.’
The palazzo was impressive. Built in the 15th century, it was one of the largest private residences in Venice. Spread over five floors, the palazzo had a perfect view of the Bridge of Sighs and a roof garden for the summer.
Jack was dressed in white linen pants, a black t-shirt and barefoot. His ease in his own home made him all the more attractive to Sapphira. He led her into the huge sitting room, with its high ceilings and three Murano glass chandeliers. The room was filled with antique and contemporary furniture and art. It was Jack in every way – elegant, stylish and urbane.
‘Venetian?’ said Jack as he opened up an art deco cabinet to reveal a fully stocked bar with every possible bottle of liquor imaginable.
‘I’m assuming that’s a drink,’ asked Sapphira, as she prowled the room studying its contents.
‘Yep. Campari, gin, vermouth, amaretto and a twist of lemon.’
‘I thought the Bellini was the Venetian cocktail of choice?’ said Sapphira as she stood back from a large Francis Bacon painting.
‘The Bellini is the choice of tourists, although it is a lovely drink on a hot night on the roof, but not too often.’
‘Are you a snob, Mr Reynolds? Are you not a
‘Amelia Earhart, look out, huh? Next thing you will need to learn is how to fly and you can see the world at your own leisure.’
‘I already know how to fly. I learned at the start of this year.’
‘Of course you did, why am I not surprised?’ he said as he crossed his legs. ‘I tell you what, I’m gonna break my own rule. I will throw you birthday dinner. I’ll send my car to pick you up at 6.00 pm. We finish early today, which will give us plenty of time.’
‘Six? I thought everyone ate later in Italy.’
‘Well, I want to take you somewhere special,’ he answered enigmatically. ‘A surprise, stay tuned, Amelia.’
Sapphira thought of another night in her library, reading and smoking and then thought of an evening with Jack. ‘It’s a date!’
‘Friends, remember?’
‘I remember,’ said Sapphira. ‘You have nothing to worry about. Your virtue is safe with me, Mr Reynolds.’ And she stood up and went to the set for her next close-up.
That evening, she was dressed for sex. She wore a Blumarine leopard print silk strapless dress, with huge Moroccan wooden bangles she had picked up on her last shoot in Marrakesh and a pair of Yves Saint Laurent black suede ankle boots. Her hair was swept back into a bun, high on her head, and she wore minimal make-up and a liberal amount of her customized Lyn Harris perfume, leaving a trail of amber, musk and jasmine.
The helicopter that picked her up in Perugia landed at Nicelli Airport at 7.10 pm and Sapphira was whisked straight into a waiting water limousine and taken through the canals towards Jack. Venice was spectacular. The sun was still up and the canals were busy. The white, navy trimmed leather seats and the mahogany panelled walls and tinted windows gave her complete privacy to watch Venice without any interruption or distraction. It truly was an amazing city, she thought, as they sailed down the Grand Canal.
There was a bottle of French Champagne on the small mahogany table with a note written by Jack –
Happy birthday, Amelia, enjoy the ride.
Pouring herself a glass, she sat forward on her chair and enjoyed the view. The buildings and people floated past her and Sapphira imagined for a moment she was in a magical land filled with the most wonderful buildings the human mind could create, all floating and rocking their inhabitants to sleep each night.
Soon, they turned off the canal and the boat came to a stop. Sapphira heard the captain speaking Italian and then the door opened. She alighted and was standing on the edge of the canal in front of huge carved wooden doors, which opened. Jack stood with his arms open. ‘Happy birthday, kid!’
Sapphira walked into them and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Howdy, Jack. Look at this place.’
The palazzo was impressive. Built in the 15th century, it was one of the largest private residences in Venice. Spread over five floors, the palazzo had a perfect view of the Bridge of Sighs and a roof garden for the summer.
Jack was dressed in white linen pants, a black t-shirt and barefoot. His ease in his own home made him all the more attractive to Sapphira. He led her into the huge sitting room, with its high ceilings and three Murano glass chandeliers. The room was filled with antique and contemporary furniture and art. It was Jack in every way – elegant, stylish and urbane.
‘Venetian?’ said Jack as he opened up an art deco cabinet to reveal a fully stocked bar with every possible bottle of liquor imaginable.
‘I’m assuming that’s a drink,’ asked Sapphira, as she prowled the room studying its contents.
‘Yep. Campari, gin, vermouth, amaretto and a twist of lemon.’
‘I thought the Bellini was the Venetian cocktail of choice?’ said Sapphira as she stood back from a large Francis Bacon painting.
‘The Bellini is the choice of tourists, although it is a lovely drink on a hot night on the roof, but not too often.’
‘Are you a snob, Mr Reynolds? Are you not a
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