him through the passage of time , and thus , he had always known he would one day procure her for his very own .
All day he reclined before the painting , taking food and wine where he so sat , never once leaving , with strict instructions bestowed upon all servants , that under no circumstance should he be disturbed . And as the shadows drifting across the wide terrace lengthened in their appearance , and the darkness of night once more enshrouded the villa , the effort of his weary mind and body over the past days took their toll , and he drifted into that of a deep slumber .
She came to him through the night , and rather than that of a dream , it was so much more a physical thing , one that not only could he see , but could feel , smell , and when she fell naked into his arms , taste , as he kissed the exquisite texture of her soft lips . However , the name she would call of him was not that of Allisandru , rather she referred to him only as Vincenzo and he was confused , for he knew of no man by that name , nor was he able to recognise any of his whereabouts .
He found himself within the surroundings of a magnificent boudoir . The furnishings elaborate , with embroidered silks from the far east , and hand-woven carpets from Persia and India covering that of a white marbled flooring . All this together with intricately carved statues containing semi-precious stones , encased within alabaster and ivory , so placed atop opulent gilded furniture . The sumptuous four poster they lounged upon , as wide as it was long , and after partaking of wild passionate lovemaking , both reclined exhausted upon soft
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