Title: Isola di Fiore
Author: Lou Watton
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: August 9, 2018
Francesco Di Fiore is a handsome bellboy at a luxury Venetian Hotel. On an average day you can find him in a dashing burgundy uniform with sleek golden streaks. He is popular with guests of both sexes, who spoil him with lavish gifts. He is at ease with his colleagues, many of whom he has also got to know well. He loves his job and rarely leaves his hotel. His hotel is his cocoon that protects him from the elements outside. No wonder he feels no urge to venture out.
One night his life takes an unexpected turn and all because he decides to take time off and taste the world outside. He goes on a date, has a good time and finds himself too drunk to notice that his date has wandered off. When he sobers up, he is walking alone through the dark streets of Venice. He stops to watch passing gondolas, but sees something very different. He watches a man tightening a noose about his neck by a bridge down the canal. Francesco dashes through the labyrinth of narrow streets to get to the man just in time to save him. They fall down in each other arms on the cold stones by the canal. When Francesco opens his eyes, he realises that the turmoil in his life is not going to end here.
The stranger in Francesco’s arms is every bit as attractive as he is vulnerable. Francesco senses trouble. His protected life in a five star paradise is about to come to an end. He brings the stranger to his tiny loft room at the top floor of the hotel. The stranger’s name is Ralf and he is a full time artist and a makeshift poet. Francesco hears a story of a desperate heartbreak and feels unable to show his guest the door. They fall asleep together in his single bed. This is how their turbulent relationship begins.
Ralf settles in Francesco’s room and Francesco provides both the roof over his head and counselling. Soon neither of them can say whether Francesco’s sensitive care is the kindness of a stranger or the affection of a kindred spirit. They begin a passionate affair against the backdrop of the great city. They lose themselves in the web of narrow streets and snaking canals, caught in the whirl of their frenzied emotions. They divide their time between the splendour of Venetian palaces and a farmer’s hut on a rural island in the Venetian lagoon. Will Francesco’s lifestyle and temptations of high life destroy their volatile arrangement, or will Francesco Di Fiore once again rescue his troubled poet and whisk him away to a rustic paradise, where they could belong only to each other?
Isola Di Fiore is everybody’s dream only a few can follow. Have a taste of what it’s like on the other end. This is a novella of 35,000 words in the M/M genre for an adult reader.
“At seven I went to the gondola exit and Francesco was already there. I stopped, slightly startled. I had rather expected he would make me wait for him.
Francesco was dressed in a smart casual way, but on him I’d say it looked just smart. There was nothing casual about his dashing, sophisticated look. He could wear a fleece and it would look like a tuxedo on him.
‘You look fantastic,’ Francesco told me. ‘I haven’t seen this jacket on you before.’
‘Thank you. I’ve only just got it. I didn’t really have much on me when I arrived.’
‘I know…’ Francesco briefly looked down.
‘I think he’s here,’ I said, noticing a gondola approaching the entrance.
We pushed both parts of the heavily decorated door and stepped out on the landing. The light from our hotel reflected on the black lacquer of the gondola, and the gleam of the golden prow betrayed its sleek, elegant shape in the dark.
I stepped in first and swayed from my lack of experience with boarding vessels. Francesco leaned over hastily, catching me by my arm and supporting me around my trunk. He was very attentive and caring, you had to give it to him. It even overwhelmed me for a second, as I knew how fragile our relationship was and how little I should value this care. I squeezed his hand and let it go. But he didn’t let go of me until I sat down. Admittedly, Francesco was far more skilled in mounting gondolas. He sat down next to me without any difficulties and unfolded a blanket to cover both of us on this chilly December night. I discovered a bottle of Champagne next to me and winked to Francesco. The gondola quietly departed.
‘I don’t personally believe it’s the best form of entertainment you could find,’ Francesco said.
‘Really?’
‘You can’t keep warmth in your body even in front of an open fire. How long do you think you’ll last here?’
I chuckled.
‘In front of the open fire I was entirely wasted. I’m well rested now.’
I popped the Champagne and passed it over to Francesco to free my hands to get glasses. I peeped up at the gondolier. I considered our exchange with Francesco kind of tender, even intimate, and felt bad for the gondolier who had to hear it all. But I suppose he had seen worse.
We clinked glasses and I toasted Francesco.
‘So, how have you been doing?’ Francesco asked taking a sip.
‘I’m alright. And you?’
‘Same old… You know what I do for a living.’
You bet I do.
‘Don’t you just love how they move through the night?’ Francesco suddenly said, looking into the darkness of the water. ‘So silently, as though it’s an apparition… Being part of it is completely mind-boggling.’
‘True, it feels like we’re skimming over the water. It’s making me light-headed. Or maybe it’s the Champagne,’ I snorted.
‘Champagne certainly helps. Are we going to the Grand Canal?’
‘Do you need to ask? You’ll find out in a moment.’
It was only a few moments before we entered the Grand Canal. This space was well lit and appeared jubilant. The skimming sensation was gone. We suddenly became grounded and alert. I could hear human voices and rhythmic music was also reaching us from somewhere.”
Lou Watton is a lawyer by trade and a writer by passion. She travels every morning in overcrowded trains to the City (of London) dreaming about lagoons far away and passion that makes eternal cities pale into background. She turns it into words and jots it down as the night falls and the kids have gone to bed and hopes that one day her trade will be her passion.