Page 312 of Niccolo

“Ah, yes, hewouldchoose that,” Fausto mused. He paused… then said, “You should go.”

“…what?” I asked, not quite believing my ears.

“It was a cardinal’s residence that eventually got turned into a museum. I believe they have the largest number of paintings by Caravaggio in one location. It’s worth seeing.”

I stared at him in shock. “You want me to go look at art… with theenemy…tonight of all nights?!”

Fausto smiled nastily. “Maybe you can find out his plan. Feed him some bad information. Mess with his mind a little.”

“I thought Don Severino made you promise not to get up to any mischief while we were in Rome.”

“Exactly – he mademepromise not to get up to any mischief. He never extracted any such promise fromyou.”

“I’m pretty sure he thought your promise covered me.”

“You’renevergoing to win tomorrow if you don’t break a few rules,consigliere.Go. Have a bit of fun. Take him to bed if you like.”

I glared at Fausto. I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or not.

I still wasn’t over Niccolo… not really…

And while the idea of seeing him again was frightening, given his emotional hold on me…

The prospect was intoxicating, as well.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

Fausto smiled again – the pearly white grin of the Devil. “If you can knock him off his game tomorrow, it will be time well spent.”

131

After wolfing down some food in the kitchen, I left for my ‘date.’

The Galleria Borghese sat in the Villa Borghese, a massive public park about three miles north of where I was staying.

The park was beautiful, with a winding road through tree-lined spaces. There were sculptures and ornate fountains everywhere, and the light of the setting sun cast enchanting shadows.

I arrived via taxi at 8PM. The Galleria was a large, two-story building at least four centuries old. Blocky and white, it boasted lots of ornamental arches and statues set into recessed alcoves.

Rome in summertime is extremely warm, and tonight was no exception. A long line of tourists in t-shirts and shorts snaked down the front steps of the museum entrance and out into the paved courtyard.

As I walked away from the taxi, I scanned the crowd for Niccolo.

Seconds later, I heard a familiar voice behind me:

“Ciao, bella.”

A shiver traveled up and down my back.

Not of fear… but pleasure.

I turned to see him walking towards me, his dark hair tousled and a big smile on his face. His swimmer’s body was draped in a white linen shirt that opened just enough to show his broad chest.

“I’m so glad you came,” he grinned.

As he got close to me, he put his hands on my hips and moved to kiss me.

Despite the nearly overwhelming urge to feel his lips on mine, I stepped back.

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