Never Forget The Importance of Style

6. Do not lead us into temptation

"Oh boy," Leone said to himself and pressed his sweaty temple against the comfortably cool stone pillar.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let the pulsating heat pass, then straightened himself again and pulled out his silver cigarette case, still leaning on the wall. He lit a cigarette, smiled inside the soft blue cloud and shrugged away the specter of an amethyst tiepin that had so enticingly winked to him from the middle of an extravagant white velvet tie. That beauty was there to be admired, not coveted.

Absent-mindedly Leone let the filter caress his lips. How he'd have wanted to kiss that mouth. So full and sensuous, somehow just a little bit childish, yet so self-consciously haughty. And when it curved into a smile, the smile crept into those dark eyes, too, never failing to reach them.

Unwillingly he turned his mind's eye from the inviting mouth - surely he must've imagined that? - and took another good, lingering look at the rest of the face. Benevolently oval, with a round chin, misty amused eyes behind ample dark lashes.

Yes, the tiepin was very beautiful where it was.

Leone allowed the dream go on for a while, but when the ghost’s slightly plump, surprisingly small and fashionable hands began to crawl inside his shirt and under the waistline of his slacks, he cut himself short and began to walk back towards the hotel. He frowned at his own excitement. Goddamn imagination, he thought irritably, suppose the man was not that way inclined? Well, at least he was interesting and, most important, his company would definitely ensure invitations to a considerable number of places where Leone would find lots of fascinating details to attend to.

He walked swiftly down the cobblestone street, then realized his pace was not really suited for a gentleman and slowed down to a more acceptable amble, finding time to cast appraising glances at the houses lining the street. Chestnut and lime trees on both sides stood upright like guards, large leaves shushing to each other in the gentle wind. The air smelled slightly of salt - the sea was near, but absent were the stifling reek of fish that marred too many a village and town squatting by the coastline, and the ear-piercing wail of seagulls fighting for all too plentiful leftovers.

Well, the seagulls were there, he could see them sailing across the clear blue sky if he looked upwards a little, but not as numerous as in some other places he had visited. Livena was no fishing village; this was a prosperous town hiding comfortably by a large bay that made an excellent harbor for the small yachts its opulent inhabitants liked to own and sometimes even sail on. The houses and villas he passed by each huddled in the middle of their own gardens like satiated cats, tail wrapped around paws that never needed to touch the soil of alleys and backyards. Elaborate carved details, windows made of innumerous little pieces of glass, dainty colors and porches bursting with flowers completed their dollhouse-like charm.

Leone registered addresses as he walked on. That was the house of the famed singer. She always insisted that she only came here absolutely incognito to give her tour-wearied nerves a rest, yet never failed to throw a tantrum when, albeit rarely, someone either truly took her for her word and tried to treat her like any other rich holiday-maker, or honestly did not recognize the grand diva and thus trespassed on her self-defined rights.

The villa opposite to it was currently empty, its owners up in the capital for some high-season entertainment. That probably entailed, to a great extent, lavishing jewelry and new dresses upon their third and unfortunately plainest daughter, who was definitely of the marrying age and was forced to compete with all the dashing debutantes of the season. Leone remembered the girl well and a quick flash of compassion crossed his mind. True, she was no beauty, but goodness, she was clever! He had rarely taken such delight in talking to a young lady as during the short discussion he had had with her at the Mayor's ball, some time before the family had traveled to Uman. She had wit and shrewdness... and a very nice figure, too. Someone was bound to notice that, even if her face was nothing remarkable.

Oh, and now he was walking past a house owned by a banker's widow. How lucky that she didn't appear to be home, or he would've probably been stuck there, standing by the hedge for at least half an hour - that is, if he'd been lucky enough not to be invited inside for a cup of something nice. That never boded well for the rest of the day, for the lady was an inveterate gossip if Leone had ever met one. Getting rid of her once she had loosened her tongue was a task fit to be used when testing supernatural heroes. And it certainly didn't do to aggravate her in any way, lest one was eager to be the next topic of her gossip.

He stopped at a crossing to give way to a carriage drawn by a pair of spectacularly identical bay geldings - oh dear, even the same height of stocking front left, Leone observed in passing. He didn't look to the right, to the direction the twosome had clattered from, for he knew only too well what street it was. Walk up there, and the third house on your right, a large, handsome white villa, would be the Alayssian residence. Owned by a wealthy widowed lawyer, at least as famous for his conquests among over-35-year females as for his success in the courts of law - and the proud father of a certain overgrown cupid with jet-black hair and a full mouth.

Leone took a deep breath and idled on, as leisurely as only a young man can, a young man whose head is filled with rosy dreams, thought a woman who passed him by, heels clicking on the stones. For a moment she hoped to be dreamed of by such a man someday - a thought at which Leone would have laughed heartily, had he known of it. But he did not. His imagination was triumphing a momentary victory over his self-control, and his steamy daydreams would no doubt have thoroughly shocked the young woman, if only she hadn’t been far too innocent to even guess at the meaning behind Leone's half pleased, half painful smile.

He left the residential area behind and reached again the busier streets, adopting a steady brisk pace that looked suitably like he was Going Somewhere. Not in any ungentlemanly hurry, mind you, yet with enough of a timetable so that he could dismiss even the more familiar passers-by with an amiable nod and a few words. It didn't do to look too busy, for that would smack of some calamity, while too much slacking would expose him to the queries of talkative acquaintances. And those were people he definitely did not want to get involved with at the moment.

Leone ambled on towards the hotel, weighing his options, and decided to pay some solid attention to the pretty, rather straightforward page-boy who had made sure he'd caught Leone's eye. Who cared that he hadn't originally intended to do anything of the sort? He definitely needed company, so he told himself. And he also needed a good long bath. But that he could get later...

Damn, damn, damn Merdos! Why did he have to be such a glaringly obvious choice for a friend?