The Secrets We Hide

Chapter Eighteen

Victoria shrugged her black leather jacket on, which she paired with a white tank top and skin tight denim jeans that clung to the curves of her body. She slipped on some sliders before she exited the small safe house on the outskirts of Venice.

The safe house was one of many properties that Victoria had acquired over the years. It was a small beige townhouse that blended into the background of the quiet Italian alley way. The cobblestoned street was gently lit by a small lamp post. The trickle of light added warmth to a somewhat small, isolated street. Victoria had no need for guards to trail her and simply sent a text off advising them to hold back. The brackets were supporting her black motorcycle that was parked by the door entrance. She rubbed her arms as the evening chill glided across her skin. She heavily exhaled as the stress and anxiety finally creeped in.

Victoria had made her way to the heart of Venice, where the timeless romance of the city met the thrilling pulse of adventure. When she was on her motorcycle, she was a blend of elegance and daring. With hair as dark as the midnight waters of the Grand Canal and eyes that sparkled like the stars over St. Mark's Square, she was a vision of captivating beauty.

Victoria's motorcycle was a sleek and obsidian beast, its chrome surfaces glinting in the soft Venetian sunlight. The roar of its engine, like a symphony of passion and power, echoed through the narrow, winding streets of this ancient city. It was as if the very soul of Venice had found its voice in the rumbling growl of her bike.

Clad in black leather that seemed to mold itself to her every curve, Isabella looked like a modern-day Venetian vixen. Her leather gloves, adorned with small silver studs, gripped the handlebars. She had the confidence of a woman who knew the labyrinthine streets of Venice like the back of her hand.

As she straddled the motorcycle, her boots, worn from countless missions, tapped a rhythm of anticipation. With a sly smile, she ignited the engine, unleashing its power in a symphony of mechanical fury. The machine came alive beneath her, a roaring beast ready to carry her through the watery alleys and under the enchanting bridges of the city.

With the twist of the throttle, Victoria set off on her journey, the wind whipping through her long, obsidian hair. The scent of saltwater and the echoes of distant gondoliers serenading couples added to the sensory tapestry of her ride.

As Victoria leaned into a turn, the motorcycle responded with grace, a seamless dance between rider and machine. She reveled in the sensation of freedom, the thrill of exploration, and the joy of experiencing Venice from a perspective few could ever imagine.

Through the maze of canals and narrow streets, she rode, her laughter mingling with the echoes of history that whispered from every corner. For Victoria, Venice was not just a city. It was a breathing work of art. For a moment, she felt free and untormented by the past.

Victoria couldn't help but worry. Although she seemed indifferent to the events of the evening, she knew better. There would be questions about their leadership, something their family couldn't afford since the demise of her father. He was a fantastic leader and no one would question his capability. She also knew that her father would not allow people like Luigino to fester in the family. He was a poison that would only corrupt the foundations of what their family had built. Sometimes she wished she didn't have to bear the responsibility that was given to her. Betraying Marcello was not something they would have done. Despite her being far more capable, she was still a woman, clawing her way for respect that was easily given to a man.

With a swift motion, she mounted her motorcycle, removed the hinge, and drove through Venice's streets with the dimmed headlights on. The gentle breeze brushed past her with its might. The frosty evening air, waking her from her deterred thoughts. There was something magnetic she felt when she was on her bike. The adrenaline would rush past her skin and seep into her bones. It was the one time she felt truly free.