Page 315 of Niccolo

“This masterpiece was created much later than the others we’ve seen. In the early 19thcentury, Camillo Borghese, a distant relative of our scoundrel the Cardinal, married the sister of Napoleon Bonaparte – yes,thatNapoleon. As a gift to his bride, he commissioned this statue depicting her as Venus, the goddess of love.

“Once finished, Camillo kept the statue in a pitch-black room. When he showed it to guests, he would take them in, one by one, carrying a single candle to light the way.

“The guests were often shocked because they thought they were actually looking at a naked woman, the statue was solifelike. In addition, the marble was waxed so that it mimicked the sheen of skin in candlelight, adding to the illusion. The statue caused quite a scandal amongst the aristocrats of Rome lucky enough to see it.

“Pauline Bonaparte was delighted with the statue – at first. She was an independent young woman who enjoyed flaunting Roman society’s stuffy notions of decorum. But when her marriage to Camillo soured and they separated, it is said that she asked him to stop showing the statue – to anyone.

“Out of his love for her, he complied. The statue was moved to another estate Camillo owned, far from Rome. It was never shown to anyone again until a decade after Pauline’s death.”

I stared at the statue, whichwastruly beautiful. I imagined her in a dark room, with only a candle to light her face, her bare shoulders, and her naked breasts. I could understand why others had thought she might be alive.

But as impressive as all the artworks had been, I was at a loss for why Niccolo had brought me here.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you call me here on the eve of the Council? To distract me? To give me an art lesson? To try to seduce me again?”

He grinned. “Why can’t it be all three?”

That annoyed me. “Thank you for the tour, but I’m leaving now.”

I turned to go –

But his hand clamped down on my wrist.

“Stop!” I hissed as I jerked away from him.

“Wait – please,” he begged. “Just… wait.”

The tenderness in his voice surprised me –

Enough that I stayed to see what he would say.

“This is one of my favorite places, and I wanted to show it to you… but also to explain myself to you.

“Like Cardinal Borghese, I, too, am a scoundrel… and I lust for something I want more than anything else in the world. For him, it was art. For me… it’s you.”

My cheeks blushed hot to hear his words.

“I would carry you away with me if I could,” he said passionately, “like Hades and Persephone – but I want you to comewillingly.

“Like Caravaggio, who painted a woman crushing the head of Satan, I know how powerful you are. I know howmagnificentyou are, even if other men completely underestimate you because you’re a woman.

“And like Camillo Borghese, I would do almost anything to keep you… but if you want to leave, then I will abide by your wishes. But I brought you here to make one last appeal.

“Like Caravaggio begging for forgiveness, I ask you to pardon me. I absolutelydidtry to manipulate you that night in Taormina. I tried to make you feel guilty for things that aren’t any worse than what I’ve done.

“I got lost in the game; all that mattered at that moment was winning… until I lost you. And once I lost you, I discovered what truly mattered to me the most.”

I sighed angrily. “This is no different. You still want to win. Bringing me here, showing me all these beautiful things, telling me these stories, apologizing – you’restilltrying to manipulate me.”

“Yes and no. Iamtrying to manipulate you to leave Fausto and come with me – but not because I want or need to win. It’s because I want and needyou.”

I shook my head, but before I could speak, he interrupted me.

“I’m going to try something I’ve never done before – not with a woman, at least. Maybe with my brothers Dario and Roberto, but no one else.”

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