Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 42. Chapter 42

The Honeymoon

We lowered to land at the Marco Polo Airport. It was evening. We only an hour or so difference between Stryia and Venice. It ten in the evening in Makarovia and nine in Venice.

We taxied to a section of the airport for private planes. Did we deserve this? No. It was necessary. Security had to be considered. I didn't see myself as better than anyone. I didn't see myself any worse either. Be it Olek, Fedir or anyone.

Yuri waved Peter and me to remain while he went to do Yuri things.

When he came back, he had two dark haired men with him. One looked official dressed in a uniform in his middle years and...he liked his meals. Not fat, but a few more pounds than he might should have. He was with Customs and Security for the airport. The other man was in his late thirties and well dressed and I knew he was a lawyer without being told.

The man with Customs looked at us and his eyes grew. “Vostra altezza!” He blurted and bowed instantly. I spoke almost no Italian, but I knew Your Highness. “Non avevo...non lo sapevo!”

The other man chuckled. “You weren't supposed to know.” He waved a signed document he had in his hand. He spoke English, but like Mario, it was accented. “And you still don't.”

The man from Customs nodded and turned to Peter and me. “I see on television.” He smiled. “You marry. Very beautiful.” Okay, he didn't speak English that well, but the fact we were here and married didn't bother him.

The lawyer held his hand out. “Nicolo Cuomo.” He introduced himself. “This is Mr. Lazio with Airport Customs.” He indicated the man with him. “He's here to do all that is needed for you here, now.” He held his hand out. “Can I have your passports?”

It wasn't just for Peter and me. Yuri, Boris and the six security with us gave their passports to Mr. Lazio.

There was some concern about the seven with security and their guns. The seventh was Yuri, of course. I then found out that Boris spoke Italian. He had to translate for Yuri. Then Mr. Cuomo did some low toned conversation and an authorization with the man from Customs and it was settled.

Our luggage had to be searched and was loaded on a truck. A limousine took us from the airport to where we were staying. The limousine was a little flashy for my tastes, but...when in Rome... (I couldn't resist that.) So, it was Venice and not Rome. Big deal.

“We aren't going to the Holiday Inn, are we?” I asked knowing we weren't.

“No.” Yuri replied simply. “It's just for one night. Two at the most.”

I was new to this. Everyone has heard of Venice. You think of Gondolas and canals of water and that's true, but the whole of Venice were a lot of little islands, too. Over a hundred of them! There were like, four hundred bridges!

No, it wasn't a Holiday Inn. It was the San Clemente Palace Kempinski Hotel. It had it's own island! Not huge one, just three or four acres. There were tennis courts and swimming pool, but it had it's a own port! That, I learned, was the important thing. The yacht was coming to the hotel to pick us up.

Say what you want, but I never saw the front desk or a bellman. That was nice. It was a beautiful hotel. It spoke of “old world” elegance. I could think of no hotel like it. In New York maybe. I'd never been to one of them either. What did I know?

All of this cloak and dagger thing would wear on a person. I'd just have to grin and bear it. The suite was nice. We were just staying overnight.

Yuri smiled as we looked around the suite. He clapped his hands once. “We'll leave you to do...whatever,” he grinned. “It is your wedding night.”

I turned surprised. “You're not staying here? It's big enough.”

Yuri smiled. “In the hotel, yes. Not in this suite.” He waved at the door. “We'll be across the hall.”

“Are you hungry?” Boris asked. “It's been a few hours since the reception.”

“Stop it,” Peter chastised. “When you got on the plane, your role of serving was done.”

“Fine,” Boris grumbled. “I wasn't cooking or anything.”

Yuri nodded. “Yes, but if you do want something, get it through room service.” He held a hand up. “Do not answer the hotel phone. Call Boris or me on our personal phones. We'll do the same with you. Do not answer the door. You're not here.”

“Okay,” Peter said shaking the man. “You have got to relax, Yuri.”

“You do remember how, don't you?” I teased.

Yuri nodded. “I will,” Yuri said, “When you're on the yacht.” He pointed to the door. “There will be security at the door. No maid or anyone with a cart should be coming in.” He sighed. “I know it may seem like we're overdoing it, but with the threat of the Consortium and that crazed militant group and others, we can't risk anything less.”

Peter hugged Yuri. “We understand. It's alright.”

I shook my head. “Mr. Lazio can never tell anyone? Ever?”

“When you return from your honeymoon yes, but not while you're here.”

“The same for the crew on the yacht?” Peter asked.

“When it's concluded.” Yuri stressed. “But not until then.”

I walked through the living area and saw on the dining table was a silver ice bucket with a bottle in it and looked at the bottle. Two champagne glasses sat next to it. I picked up the card by it. Return when you're ready. We love you both. Mom, Mario, Olek, Helga and Grandma. I felt Peter come and read it over my shoulder.

I pulled the bottle out of the ice. “Is this a good year for Dom Perignon?” I chuckled holding the bottle up for Peter. “I have no idea.” I grinned.

Peter's eyes widened. “Why ask me!?”

“Because, I've been a prince not even a day.” I explained. “You've been a prince for twenty seven years! You were exposed to all this highbrow stuff.”

Peter shook his head. “Not as much as you might think. I only know two things about champagne, it tastes good or it doesn't.” He waved at Boris. “Ask him, he's the chef.”

I gave the bottle to Boris. “Well?”

Boris shrugged. “It's French and it's Dom. It will be good.” He smiled handing the bottle back.

“I'll get two more glasses.” I pointed to the china cabinet. “You're joining us.” I said.

Boris grinned and went to the bar we had in the room. He was always neat. The “pop” of the cork was followed by the usual spewing of champagne which Boris kept over the sink.

Pouring the champagne Peter raised his glass. “To great friends. I would be lost without you two. I can say honestly, I've never been happier. I have love in abundance. To a brighter tomorrow.”

“I concur.” I said as we clinked our glasses together. Now I was feeling a little more out of my element. This was way over the top as a lifestyle for me.

“If you want,” Yuri began, “we are in Venice. If you decide to walk around, take a tour or something. That will be fine. I'll make sure security goes with you.”

“You come, too.” I insisted. “I will love spending time with just Peter, but we've been together for almost two years. He and I will be doing that on the yacht. Come with us?”

“If for no other reason, so Boris can translate for us.” Peter grinned. “And you come with us as friends. Not security or anything else.” He said pointing at them.

“We'd love to.” Boris nodded.

After Boris and Yuri left for their room, Peter put his arms around me. “We got married today.”

I chuckled. “I was there.”

“We're married.”

“Yes, I know.” I laughed. “Just roll it around a while. You'll get used to the idea.”

“Oh, Mr. Ivanov.” Peter taunted me. “I guess I need to get used to it, Mr. Ivanov. Just like you did, Mr. Ivanov.”

“That took a while, because it is so different.” I defended. “The name change...it doesn't just roll off the tongue yet.”

Peter nodded. “And the realization that we're married takes time, too.”

“Yes, it does.” I practically tackled my husband.

When the morning came, there was no reason to jump up to go anywhere just yet. I rolled over from the comfort of where I'd slept to find myself alone. I looked around the suite. Hearing the quiet flush of the toilet, I grinned. I hadn't been left. Only, now I had to go myself. We passed each other as he came out and I went in.

When I was done, I returned and Peter was at a large panoramic window. He didn't even turn around.

“I think that's the boat.” He said to me pointing at something.

I walked over next to him. I didn't know what to expect, but...I did not expect that. I let out a slow whistle. It was at least one hundred feet long. On it was written Grandduchessa. Again, I had enough language skills to know that meant Grand Duchess. “Daaaammn.” I let out slowly. I looked at Peter. “There's just the two of us going.” I gave a consenting shrug. “And the six security. We don't need that much space!”

Peter was nodding, but his eyes grew when I said what I did. “Should we call Olek so he can tell Mario thanks, but no thanks?”

“No,” I said back, “but that's not a boat. That's a ship.”

“Yes,” Peter nodded. “It is.”

She was sleek, but unusual. She had a deck configuration I had never seen before. It was white, but the top deck did this odd waving connection from the top to the lower decks. It was very pretty! The lowest deck had a curved deck rail that rose a little down the side. She made a statement. I was paying attention to what she had to say. It was a work of art!

“Who does Mario know!?” Peter asked.

I nodded. “Someone with a lot of money, that's who.”

A familiar ding drew our attention. It was Peter's phone. Peter read the text. “Boris wants us to let him know when we've gotten up.” He chuckled at another ding. “Yuri texted he's hungry.”

“Let them know.” I said, “but first.” I grinned pulling him back to the bed. We made love again.

I didn't want to torture Yuri too long, so we showered and dressed. Calling to ease Yuri's suffering.

Boris and Yuri came to our suite and had us look over the room service menu. Fortunately, there were enough tourists from the West to have the menu in Italian, French, Spanish and English. I knew Makarovian wouldn't be there, or Ukrainian or Russian. This was a five star hotel. I'm sure they had them if we asked.

We got this Venetian Breakfast Casserole. It was loaded! Eggs scrambled with large chucks of sausages and bacon. We also got some delicate pastries, scones and danishes. Lots of jelly. Excuse me, not jelly but all-fruit preserves.

Boris was relaxing. Yuri was, too, but not as well as Boris. They were dressed to be what we were. Tourists. Even in jeans, Boris still carried an air about him. I looked again at his pants. Yep, they were creased. Yuri was still security. That was just who he was.

“Venetian Breakfast?” Boris scoffed waving at the sizzling cast iron skillet the casserole was brought in. “It's bacon and eggs.”

Peter nodded taking a bite. “But in Venice!” He nodded munching happily. “And very good!” He picked up the menu. “It has truffles.”

Boris snorted. “Fine, but who could mess up bacon and eggs?”

“Me.” Peter grinned at me.

“He can do it,” I smiled back and Boris. “It's your fault that he can't.”

“My fault!?” Boris blurted. “How is it my fault?”

“He never had to cook.” I said simply. “He made dinner twice in our little apartment.”

“It was a disaster.” Peter chuckled. “Eric cooked from then on."

Yuri was also munching away and gave an appreciative nod. “It's good.” He looked at us. “It floods sometimes in the plaza. The spring is the worse.”

“We'll wade through.” Peter shrugged.

“The guys for security,” I began, “when and where do they eat?”

Yuri nodded. “They're eating now in the restaurant.” He smiled at me. “I know you like to befriend people. That's fine, but I would prefer a kind of detachment.”

“From them or me?” I asked. “You know how I am. I didn't like it when they stood up during lunch at school.”

Yuri sighed again. “From you or them. They're attached because your royalty now. Their prince. They need to be focused to do their jobs.”

“And being friends prevents that?” I asked.

“It could be a distraction.”

I nodded. “Do I distract you?”

“No, but...” Yuri started to protest.

“Give it up, Yuri.” Peter chuckled. “You can't win.”

“If anything,” I smiled. “I think it makes you better. They knew that in Greece for a long, long time. Thebes? You knew about the Greek gods, what about the gay militia they used?” I shrugged. “If they aren't gay. They were raised in Makarovia, right? They're gay friendly. They have to be. We can be friends.” I looked at Yuri closer. “Can't they?”

Yuri was mentally looking for a reason to object.

“I told you,” Peter smiled. “Give it up. He's won already and now has the royal authority to demand it.”

“Which I don't want to do or use,” I added. “I won't. Yuri's not wrong, but neither am I.” A took Peter's hand. “You and I are going to be seeing a lot of them in the next two weeks. I just don't want it to feel awkward. A person can't have too many friends.” I waved at Boris. “We had to almost strong arm them from accepting a hug from us. If we hadn't, they'd probably be back in Boston waiting for us to come back.”

“Fine.” Yuri growled. “On the ship they can be friendly.”

“And that's all?” Peter asked. “It might get boring for them if we're touring Athens.”

“Fine.” Yuri said firmly. “But they're here to perform a job, not be on holiday. I'll introduce you to them. But if anything happens to either of you, I'm taking their heads!”

Yuri wasn't kidding.

Nicolo Cuomo called and wanted to come by the hotel. The only way to the hotel was by boat. Deliveries and supplies were all brought by boat. I think there was a helipad, but we found out he was on the Grandduchessa.

There other boats that came and left all day and night. He had boarded one. It was Sunday! Didn't he take the day off? He was a lawyer! I couldn't begin to guess what he pulled down a year in pay. Even a junior partner for this firm in Europe's top 500 had to be doing well, or wouldn't work for them. Or Mario.

“Do we even know how Mario earned his money?” I asked everyone and no one.

Peter nodded. “He was born with it.” He looked at me and read my expression. “This man was dating my mother! I asked him.” He nodded. “And I researched and had him looked into.” Peter explained. “His great grandmother was a princess, but down enough not to given in marriage.” He shrugged. “His great grandfather used the money to make more. Mario was born wealthy, but also had his grandfather's business smarts.” He was still looking at me and my lack of understanding. “He was dating Mom!”

I nodded. “I get that.”

“He's not just Italian, but Sicilian! I didn't want some Godfather reenactment!” Peter defended further. “As nice as Mario is he could suddenly erupt. I was protecting Mom.”
“I don't think Mario has it in him.” I said. “I've never seen any anger or heard him raise his voice.”

Peter nodded vehemently. “Yes! I don't think he ever had to.” Peter grinned. “He is more of a slow boil or distant thunder.”

I continued to nod. “And Vesuvius was just a mountain that offered Pompeii a pretty view.” I patted Peter's arm. “It blew up, you know?”

Peter bowed a little. “I know. He should be happy I'm so protective of her!”

“I'm sure he will be,” I said smiling. “After you tell him.”

Peter's eyes grew. “Oh, man.” His voice said with regret.

“You like him now.”

“Yes.” Peter admitted.

“So do I.” I kissed him. “Just tell him what you told me like you told me and I'm sure he will be happy you are protective.” I thumbed toward the window toward the Duchess. “We owe him that.” I pulled head next to mine, our foreheads touching. “You know me. I hate lying. I don't believe in cover ups.” I shrugged. “What are guilty of? Being overprotective of Mom!?” I laughed. “We should all be so lucky. I know Mario will understand. He might even be impressed by what you did. I am.”

Peter grunted. “Do I have to tell him?”

“I think you should.” I encouraged. “This family is what most would consider to be too honest.” I chuckled. “You readily tell what most people consider to be too much honesty.” I looked at him as my smile grew. “Such as what every man does?”

“But that's different.” Peter whined.

“You're right.” I nodded. “Jerking off is much, much more personal.” I kissed him. “Clearly he's not after the uranium or the kingdom's money. He doesn't need it. That fact makes him the perfect man for Mom.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded.

There was a knock on our door.

“That's Nicolo Cuomo, I'm sure.” Yuri announced heading toward the door.

Nicolo showed us the signed documents all of the crew signed and gave us a roster of names.

“It has five decks,” Nicolo smiled. “Really, it can take twelve guests onboard. The master bedroom is on deck two.” He shrugged. “It was available. There is a reduced crew. You have a full engineering crew, but only three stewards.” He smiled. “And a Galley Chef and two Galley Assistants.”

I nodded. “That's a reduced crew.” It was sarcastic, but it's what I thought.

“Yes.” Nicolo replied. “The Captain can go over some destinations. There is a trusted Concierge available online to help if needed for concert tickets or something like that.” He indicated outside with a jut of his head. “Your things are being loaded now. You're free to inspect and talk with anyone onboard.” He smiled brightly. “Do you want to see her?”

“Hell, yeah!” Peter said in English quickly then stopped. “Who owns it?”

“Count Alexi von Bar of Luxembourg and his wife Countess Maria von Bar of Luxembourg.” Nicolo replied and said knowing we'd understan what he said next. “Her maiden name was Maria Basso. She is Mario Basso's younger sister.”

“No wonder Mario got it so quickly!” Peter stated. “How rich are they?”

Nicolo frowned as he thought. “It's hard to give a static number. The Count and Countess are very wealthy. Banking was their business. Mario, too. They're very quiet about it.” He shrugged. “Easily they are in the billions. Euro.”

“Daaaamn.” Peter said in English.

Nicolo chuckled nodding. “Yes, damn indeed.”

Peter and I were surrounded. Boris and Yuri and the six security and Nicolo had us inside a loose circle as we walked to the Duchess

The Grandduchessa was white. I mean everything was white, off white or cream colored. The floors, carpeting, marble, cabinets, doors...everything were those colors. Handles for drawers and that sort of thing was white with gold etched on or in them. It looked so...clean! Even the roses arranged in large gold urns or vases were white. White and roses. There were a bar with a frosted glass backdrop with the rose etched in gold on the surface. We found out it was designed for Maria.

The Captain and First Mate was there to greet us. The Captain was a thin older man in his mid-fifties. No hair as he had his hat off inside. He was in the white uniform with his rank on his shoulders. He had no reaction on seeing us. He just bowed. He wasn't surprised. The First Mate in his late thirties had a slight one. He had black hair. Had, past tense. His head was shaven, but you could see what was left of his hair pattern was on the sides in closely cut stubble. The top his head was clear skin.

“This is Captain Lucan Agius.” Nicolo introduced. “And his First Mate, Commander Alcan Perez.”

“It is an honor to have you, Your Highness.” The Captain said to us with a slight bow. I was so used to it now, but he had an accent. They both did.

Yuri nodded as he walked closer to Captain Agius. “You aren't surprised.”

The Captain shook his head. “It makes sense.” He waved at Peter and me. “They were married yesterday. I've known the family for decades, the Von Bars and the Bassos. I knew Mr. Basso was dating Queen Alla of Makarovia.” He smiled at Yuri. “Those documents told me the rest. They'll be safe.” He assured.

Yuri nodded. “Good.”

Captain Agius was not Italian, but Maltese. Commander Perez was from Spain. Malta was a small island country below Sicily. Sicily was right at the toe of Italy's boot. Malta was below that. Then we met Jeanette Gagne. She was from France. A pretty woman in her late twenties who was also a part of the crew. She made sure all purchases for the Duchess was done. Supplies were done and any provisions gotten.

She opened the door to our stateroom on deck two. It was the master bedroom. It was big! Bigger than our rooms in Boston or in Stryia. Also, white and gold. The central feature was the bed. It was round. On a raised platform, circled again by white carpeting with the gold rose design around it. It had columns, or posts of gold holding the ceiling up....or so it seemed. The wall background was gold with the large roses on it. White, roses and circles was the theme.

One more time. “Daaammn.” Peter let out softly. Almost reverently. “Roses and...white!”

Jeanette laughed. “Oui, the Count is very devoted to his wife. She loves roses. He took that all through the Duchess.” She smiled. “The Duchess is for you to enjoy. There is a pool on the main deck, a media room with access to almost all movies in several languages, a library and a gym. The Duchess can accommodate twelve guests comfortably. You may want to get with Henri,” she said very French way as in onrey, “he's the chef. If there is anything you desire, he can make it.” She said confidently. She went to a white desk and touched a computer monitor. “If needed, you can speak with any of us at any time.” She touched a key that woke the sleeping computer. “There is a selection menu for each of us. You can request something cleaned or pressed and even let Henri know a request for dinner.”

“Daaammn.” Peter said.

“The Duchess is ready to leave?” I asked. “We were told it might be another day. We have friends was told we'd see Venice together.”

Jeanette nodded. “We're on your schedule. We might move the Duchess to another port in Venice to ease access. We'll go whenever you're ready.”

I looked at the stateroom we were staying in. “I don't know. This could be dangerous, staying here.” I said in Makarovian.

“Dangerous?” Peter repeated. “How!?”

I shrugged. “Two weeks of this and we might not want to leave!!”

Peter chuckled.