Masterpiece

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Masterpiece

ISBN # 978-0-85715-873-4

©Copyright Genella deGrey 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2012

Edited by Rebecca Hill

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing,Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

This story contains 102 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

MASTERPIECE

Genella deGrey

A Greek myth's curse involving two young lovers unfolds in sensual Renaissance Italy.

It is the dawn of the Italian Renaissance. A handful of women painters and sculptors emerge from the male-dominated middle ages to stand out among the crowd. A promising young painter, Gia Vessa, has just moved to Rome after the death of her father and immediately catches the eye of a handsome, wealthy man who seeks to become her benefactor. But what else will the sensually dark man want from her that she’d be more than willing to give?

Handsome as the Devil himself, the affluent art collector, Pietro Scarabassi has a secret. For thousands of years his spirit has waited to find the soul of Ciri, the young woman who gave away what he felt was rightfully his—her virtue—to some unworthy whelp. Now that he has finally found her manifested into the human form of Gia Vessa, Pietro will stop at nothing to destroy her and her lover.

Trapped inside a stone pillar that was once part of a Grecian temple of Venus, Zander has witnessed lovers worship each other and the goddess for centuries as he waited to be freed. Finally the day has come and he is able to use the few supernatural gifts the gods have bestowed upon him, but he must determine who houses the soul of his lover, Ciri. Once he finds her, he must foil the plans of their enemy, slay the demigod in human form and end the curse forever.

Dedication

The Italian Renaissance was perhaps the most important artistic and cultural revolution in Western history. Da Vinci, Michelangelo and Donatello, among others, illuminated and re-shaped the art world, and with Filippo Brunelleschi’s genius, architectural achievements leapt forward. Martin Luther shook the Roman Catholic Church, the most powerful authority on earth at the time, to its core with his Protestantism manifesto and Galileo’s ideas about our solar system, among other theories, also went in direct opposition of what the Church taught its devout parishioners.

All these things, including the invention of the Gutenberg Press, helped bring the Western world out of the Dark Ages

I dedicate this book and raise my glass in salute to these non-conforming brilliant men who paved the way for both male and female artists, and the radical, intellectual free-thinkers who liberated the world with the light of truth.

Chapter One

Rome, Italy

1605

But Signora Fontana—five thousand florins? Gia Vessa asked, still unable to comprehend the substantial amount of money being offered for one of her paintings.

I am getting the better part of the deal, signorina. The piece will have a place of prominence amongst the others in my collection. At fifty-three years of age, Lavina Fontana was a master artist. She patted her young protégée on the hand as they sat on Lavina’s terrace, just outside the Vatican.

But you already have three of my works.

"Hush now, mia dolce. You have great potential as an artist. I wish to help you as I had help when I was first starting out. Now, no more talk of filthy money. She leaned closer to Gia. What of your mysterious new benefactor? Is he as handsome and sinister-looking as they say?"

Heat crept up Gia’s neck to enflame her face. She couldn’t have dreamt up a more darkly alluring man. She nibbled briefly on her lower lip and contemplated her answer. He is terribly handsome, Signora Fontana, she said in hushed tones. Sometimes I think he is the devil himself come to tempt me!

The two women giggled with girlish delight.

My sources tell me he is quite wealthy. Lavina looked at Gia from the corner of her eye. Has he kissed you yet? she inquired, a devious grin playing about her lips.

After this conversation, Gia was certain her cheeks would be forever stained crimson. No, no, Signora Fontana—he doesn’t even know I exist! As an artist, perhaps, but certainly not as woman.

Ha! I do not believe he is that ignorant! Signorina, are you not aware of your beauty? Your violet eyes, your shimmering, burnt umber hair… No, I think that you deny what everyone else knows to be a fact.

Gia focused her gaze on the toes of the soft, leather walking shoes that were peeking out from under her russet skirts as she re-adjusted the knot of the cream coloured kerchief behind her neck. There was nothing special about her. She was plain. Naught about her stood out—not like the other girls she’d grown up with in the little hill town of San Leo, with their wheat-gold hair and light coloured eyes in varying hues of ocean-greens and sky-blues. Signora Fontana, you are too kind.

Lavina stood and took Gia by the chin. You mustn’t be so shy, mia dolce. You must taste the bread before you make an agreement with the baker.

Gia looked at Signora Fontana, awaiting an explanation of the metaphor.

Lavina smiled. Would you buy a cow without knowing how sweet the milk tasted?

Gia leaned towards her mentor. Perhaps she wasn’t hearing her correctly.

Let him taste your lips, mia dolce—there is no harm in that, the older woman whispered.

Gia’s sharp intake of breath as understanding dawned made Lavina chuckle.

There is nothing wrong with a little teasing now and again. Who invented kissing, do you suppose?

Gia felt as if she were twelve years old again, sitting on her father’s knee, listening to him fumble through the answer to her question about boys and kissing. The girls in the village had told her about how a man takes the maidenhead of a woman with his prick, but their stories had lacked the precious details of what else happened between the sexes. Her father was all she’d had growing up, her mother having died when Gia was very young. Father had loved his wine. He’d evaded her question, answering her using words she did not understand—could not understand at that age. She had vowed never again to approach him with feminine, whimsical matters, and had kept her promise until he’d passed on two months ago. Now she gazed at her wonderful patroness, looking like a simpleton. She shrugged a shoulder in answer to Signora Fontana’s question.

Why, God did, of course. Lavina smiled.

Gia glanced down and attempted to relax the fists in her lap. Signora, is it proper to think of such things? she asked quietly.

Lavina laughed and returned to her seat across from Gia. "You have been sheltered for far too long by your father in that tiny village. You are twenty-five years old now and, by Venus, you should be thinking of such things, as you say! We are artists. Of all God’s creatures, we are the most passionate. And we draw our inspiration from many things, mia dolce.

He does have the most beautiful hands I have ever seen. Gia grinned as she revealed the dark secret to her best friend.

Lavina leaned towards Gia. Let him kiss you. Let him touch you with those beautiful hands of his. You will know when to stop, but I warn you, he may not want to. You must be firm with him. Tell him…tell him you need some time. This is a good way to make a man come back for more, eh?

Gia swallowed. I see him again tomorrow, Signora Fontana.

Buono. See how the mood takes you. Let him set the pace. She winked.

While Lavina called to her servants to set out an early supper on the terrace, Gia’s thoughts drifted to tomorrow. Now she anticipated the meeting with Signore Scarabassi even more than before. Her dreams were already so vivid she sometimes couldn’t tell them from reality. The union of Gia’s fertile imagination and Lavina’s encouragement had imprinted visions of detailed illumination in the young woman’s mind that were sure to haunt her mind during waking as well as sleeping hours.

* * * *

I heard of you a few years ago after your painting of Ciri went up for sale, so I brought you this slab of rock because I think you can bring it to life. Her newest patron, Pietro Scarabassi, smiled. His straight white teeth, a contrast with his dark olive skin, drew Gia’s artistic attention to the facial detail. She loved how colours played together, in life and on canvas.

He ran his hand down the side of the huge stone as Gia watched him with his gift, both intimidating and immovable. Signore, I—I’ve not worked in stone before. Perhaps I should start with something softer, like wood or even clay.

He smiled again, his black, stormy eyes boring into her in an odd way—demanding yet knowing. I am so convinced that you will do this hunk of stone justice that I’ve already purchased your tools.

Gia began to protest when, from behind the stone, he presented her with a leather roll tied with a thin, black velvet bow. With two nimble fingers, he whipped the black strap from the gift and handed it to her.

Signore, please— Her gaze landed on the gleaming tools of dark metal and wood as the roll unfurled in her hands. If there was one thing that could tempt Gia over every tangible vice, it was the tools of an artist. In vain she tried to slow her breathing.

Ah, I knew you would see it my way.

But Signore, she pleaded once more, her fingers curling around the open roll in contradiction of her words.

He took her firmly by the shoulders. Dolce, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Pietro before you finally do?

P—Pietro, I—I do not even know where to begin. She focused her gaze on the huge stone.

Now, do not rush into this. You must spend a couple of days before beginning what will be your finest work. Allow the idea to swim around in your head. He slipped a hand under her kerchief, at the nape of her neck. Think of it, dream of it,