The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession Book 4) Read online

  “Are you all right?” Gio asked, noticing that she was hugging the wall of the dome, rather than taking a photo from the rickety railing surrounding the circular balcony.

  Tense, she smiled thinly. “Um, yes. I just learned the hard way not to stand close to the edge.”

  “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “Not exactly,” she said, still plastered against the wall.

  Gio smiled and held out his hand. Sighing, Sophia took hold of it and stepped to the edge. She was fine until she looked down, then her head spun and she had to close her eyes as a wave of vertigo swept over her. She swayed slightly.

  “Okay, bad idea, bad idea.” Gio put his arm around her and herded her to the stairs.

  She laughed weakly and they started down the long winding descent, her hand gripping the rails or stone walls whenever she could.

  “This is a recent problem,” she explained as they reached the street.

  “Did you have a bad experience?” Gio asked, his brow creased in concern.

  “In a way. It’s the damnedest thing. I was in Barcelona earlier this year for a weekend holiday, and I visited all of the Gaudi monuments. I was on the top of La Pedrera, Casa Milà. It has those guard-shaped turrets and uneven floors. It’s kind of like a cartoon about knights on acid.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I’ve been there and it is a little disorienting.”

  “You won’t find an argument here. I couldn't walk up there. I felt ridiculous hanging on to the walls and railings. And now it keeps happening. I step near an edge more than two stories high and bam—vertigo.”

  He ran his hand up and down her back in a comforting caress. “No more high places.”

  “But I don’t want to miss anything!” she protested. “Let’s just stay away from the edge next time.”

  “Okay,” he promised.

  After grabbing a quick bite, they wandered some more, soaking up the venerated atmosphere of the city. She snapped a thousand pictures of her favorite statue, Perseus with the head of Medusa, outside of the Palazzo Vecchio. She had loved the piece since she saw it in her favorite movie, “A Room with a View”. When she mentioned that to Gio, she was pleased to learn that he knew it well enough to show her where some of the scenes had been shot. It wasn’t exactly a guy movie, but he seemed to have eclectic taste in films.

  Despite the crowds and heat in the street, Sophia had never felt so energized. It was like swimming in electrified water, the fictional kind that didn’t electrocute you. She loved the way the air smelled and the way the sun beat down on her skin. It was a welcome change from English weather.

  Later, they shopped on the Ponte Vecchio, a medieval stone closed-spandrel arch bridge over the Arno River. It was lined with stores, most selling jewelry. She bought herself a silver necklace, but had to argue with her earnest tour guide to be allowed to pay for it.

  Gio seemed genuinely upset that she wouldn’t let him buy her the expensive piece of jewelry, but she was adamant. He worked too hard for his money to let him spend it on her.

  “You can buy me a gelato,” she bargained with him, teasing until he grudgingly agreed and they headed back to the Gelateria Carabe.

  Gelato led to dinner and dinner led to tomorrow and another city. She mentioned wanting to see the ancient site of Pompeii and suddenly they were there, walking through the baking hot and dusty streets. They pored over the ancient mosaic frescoes that had been buried in ash throughout the preserved cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and refilled a water bottle from quaint spigoted fountains doting the complex. After viewing the famous Birth of Venus fresco, Gio bribed a guard for access to villas closed to the public to view even more works of art.

  Throughout the visit, Gio was the perfect gentleman, even when she was blushing her way through the lupanar, the well-preserved brothel in Pompeii. Apparently, the ancient Romans weren’t shy about sex. The graphic depictions were found outside the brothel too, catching her unawares and sending a periodic flood of heat through her body whenever they came across one. The images wouldn’t normally have embarrassed her, but somehow seeing them with Gio made her nervous.

  That night, they ate at a casual buffet place called Todisco. They filled up on a delicious assortment of food. Once they were finished she was given a tour of the kitchens while Gio chatted with the owner, whom he seemed to know well. Later, when she tried to pay, Gio didn’t argue with her because the owners waved her cash away and insisted it was on the house. Then he walked her to the hotel and went off to spend the night with yet another relative.

  The next day, they headed to Naples to view more treasures excavated from Pompeii and Herculaneum at the archeological museum. While there, a friend of Gio’s led them through a display of mummies and showed them a few treasures hidden in the storage rooms. They also explored some of the Roman water deposits and a few churches off the beaten path.

  Completely spent from the non-stop sightseeing, she let Gio convince her to spend a few days lounging on the beaches of Ischia—a gem of an island an hour’s boat ride from Napoli. He didn’t even blink when she wore a concealing swim tank and boy shorts covered by a gauzy shirt. He simply smiled as if he could see through it and ordered her a cocktail from a beachside bar. They drank them on shaded lounge chairs, enjoying the sun and view of the crystalline water.

  Eventually Gio suggested going back to Rome to hit a few ruins and museums she missed the first time, and she went along, content to follow his lead.

  By the time they arrived back at the capital, Sophia admitted to herself that she was falling under Gio’s spell. He was charming and intelligent while being warm and spontaneous. Every day with him was an adventure, one she was sorry to end each night.

  The fact he was a performance artist was his only detraction—one she actively had to chastise herself for looking down on. Gio didn’t fit any of her pre-conceived ideas about what he should be or how he should behave. He was at home everywhere they went. The man was connected, and no one else seemed to think less of him for his occupation. Quite the opposite in fact.

  Gio was a new experience for her. The fact he didn’t try to hide his attraction to her was intoxicating, so much so that she was actually starting to think about having an affair with him.

  It was what Kelly had urged her to do after her breakup with Richard. Her best friend had been on her case about finding a man for some therapeutic rebound sex, but Sophia hadn’t been able to stomach the idea. She’d never had sex without a commitment before. There had only been one man prior to Richard, in college. Both times she had been in love and believed she was loved in return. In fact, she’d been convinced that Richard was going to propose when everything fell apart.

  A vacation fling was totally out of character for someone as conservative as she was, but Gio was proving to be a potent temptation. Though he was an accomplished flirt, he was also romantically old-fashioned. He opened doors for her, pulled out chairs, and always walked on the outer edge of sidewalks, shielding her from traffic. The combination of hot modern man with old-world charm was devastating.

  It was driving her a little crazy that he hadn’t made a pass. She kept expecting the obvious come-on or physical overture, but it never happened. Which meant Gio might be waiting for her to make the first move. Someone as handsome as he was surely had women throwing themselves at him all the time—street performer or not.

  For the first time in her life, she was considering seducing a man. Her experience with the opposite sex was limited. Her college boyfriend had been a virgin, too, and her later courtship with Richard had been polite and formal, mainly because they were being setup by her father.

  She had less than a week left of her vacation. There was the sense of an opportunity passing her by. However, making the first move seemed to be beyond her. The idea of letting him see her naked was too much of a stumbling block. So one day slipped into the next without anything happening.

  Now that they were back in Rome, she
expected Gio to go back to performing, but he made it clear that he had no intention of abandoning her to her own devices. Other than a few hours each morning, he devoted every day to her enjoyment. Together they toured the ancient ruins of the Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum. He even arranged for an exclusive night tour of the Colosseum, a special privilege granted to them because—of course—he knew someone who worked there.

  On one of those solo mornings, she rolled out of bed late and had a leisurely breakfast before heading to the lobby to wait for Gio. She sat in a wingback chair, taking advantage of the hotel’s wifi to catch up on her emails. Her phone’s reception had been terribly spotty so she hadn’t filled Kelly in on recent events, including what was going on with her travel companion.

  Kelly was going to have a fit when she read her message. Especially if Sophia didn’t chicken out and actually slept with Gio. She could practically hear her best friend egging her on to have the affair—although honestly that had been going on before she’d broken up with Richard. Kelly wasn’t a fan of her ex.

  Sophia had just pressed send when her phone buzzed. Glancing at it she frowned at the ID “Dickhead” and declined the call, texting a terse reply instead.

  A deep smooth voice startled her. “Who keeps calling you?”

  “Oh, hi,” she said, dropping her phone inadvertently as Gio sat on the adjoining chair.

  She picked it up with a quick grin and gave him a discreet once-over. He was wearing tan chinos and a long-sleeved button shirt with his trademark mirrored aviator sunglasses. Every time she saw him, he was dressed more and more conservatively. It was a good look for him. Of course, he could make a potato sack sexy.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, tossing the phone in her purse. “What do you have planned for today?” she asked brightly.

  Though he asked for her input, Sophia had stopped planning itineraries for what she wanted to see. Gio’s ideas were better. He always seemed to know someone who had special access at all the attractions. They got exclusive tours at all hours of the day and night—sometimes even after the site had officially closed. And he always knew the best places to eat.

  Sometimes they ate at homey restaurants that served the best regional dishes. Other times they walked blocks out of their way to find some hole in the wall that served awesome street food, like the fried cod they’d had the other day in the Trastevere neighborhood.

  Gio leaned in with a gleam in his eye. “I found the pensione your mother stayed at when she was here—the Veleria. I thought we could start there and then wander to the Piazza Navona for lunch. Afterward, we can hit the Pantheon and the Trevi fountain before we stop for some sfogliatella at my favorite bakery.”

  Tears stung at her eyes, and she turned away to compose herself. The other day she had randomly mentioned the name of the pensione her mother wrote about in her journal. That he remembered and found it was incredibly touching.

  “That sounds perfect,” she said, her voice husky.

  The expression on his face warmed before clouding over. “Before we get going, there is something I wanted to speak to you about. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

  The phone started to ring again, and she closed her eyes. Fishing it out, she glanced at the caller ID. Sure enough, it was Richard again. She let out a harsh breath and rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” she said.

  Her ex wasn’t going to stop calling. It would ruin what was left of her vacation if she didn’t bite the bullet and talk to the jerk.

  Nodding, Gio stood and walked away to let her speak in privacy.

  She swiped her screen and put the phone to her ear. “We agreed to deal exclusively through the realtor.”

  Across the line Richard sighed. “Sophia, darling. It’s about time you answered.”

  Counting to five, she waited to answer. “I told you I was on vacation. In Italy.”

  “There’s a few details on the contract we need to discuss.”

  “Then talk to the realtor,” she said from behind clenched teeth.

  “I already did, darling. The man can’t address these questions.”

  “I’m not your darling anymore,” she said in a flat voice. “If the realtor can’t deal with your issues, then talk to my father’s lawyer. It’s his house you’re buying. I never even lived there. Dad’s attorney will be more familiar with his estate. And there’s no reason you couldn’t text me about this instead of always insisting on calling.”

  Richard grunted. His cultured British accent took on a nasal, and annoyingly superior, tone. “Texting is for teenagers. And you still need to approve sale of the Chevette.”

  What? “You want to buy that too? Since when?”

  Her father’s vintage 1970 Chevrolet Chevette had been his pride and joy. He had restored the car himself, spending most Sunday afternoons tinkering with it in the garage, regardless of whether or not she was visiting. It still needed a little work, but would be worth a fair amount to the right buyer.

  Why Richard, with his aristocratic tastes, wanted it on top of everything else was a mystery. He already had a car—a Bentley.

  “Jorge meant a lot to me,” he said. “I’m already going to be filling his shoes as head of the Sociology department. It seems right that I be the one to buy his house and the car he loved. It’s not like you want them.”

  That last detail was true. Not being close to her father, she had no real desire to keep his things. Richard’s attachment to them, however, was a little creepy. Selling everything to him had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was turning into a huge hassle.

  “I’ll think about the car,” she said, trying to keep her tone even. “But I’ll let you know when I return home. I won’t be picking this phone up again until I’m back on English soil. And start texting. You’re not a thousand years old. Join the twenty-first century.”

  She hung up, cutting off whatever else he was going to say next. The phone started ringing again immediately. Resolutely turning it to airplane mode, she threw it back into her purse. Across the way, Gio cocked his head at her before coming back to sit down.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Collapsing into the armchair, she wagged her finger at him. “Gio, take my advice. Never date a rich guy. Or rich girls, in your case.”

  He hesitated and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Emotionally drained, she waved her languid hand from her near prone-position on the armchair. “I mean, don’t get involved with anyone with money—especially old money. They’re too damn entitled and think everything they say is right and everything you do is wrong. Noblesse oblige has become noblesse I’m better than you so why bother having an opinion of your own.”

  For a minute, he stared at her open-mouthed before he recovered. “So that was your ex?”

  Nodding perfunctorily, she peeked up at him through her thick lashes.

  “And he’s from a monied background? Aristocratic?”

  Monied. What a weird way to phrase it. “Yes,” she sighed. “He’s a first cousin to an English lord or something. As blue-blooded as it gets, with a matching blue stick up his butt.”

  Slumping further into the armchair—and she was nearly lying horizontal across it at this point—she put a hand over her eyes. She couldn’t believe how much had changed between her and Richard. When they first met, the sun and moon rose and set with him. His good opinion had been everything to her.

  Richard’s sophistication had been impressive, and as an added bonus, her father loved him. Being with him had seemed like a good way to build a bridge between her and her obtuse parent. But now Richard’s condescension rankled. Even his posh British accent, which she had loved, set her teeth on edge.

  “Well, it sounds like you’re well rid of him.” The words came slowly, his voice distant.

  Peeking at Gio from behind her fingers, she noticed how pale he looked. Almost sick. Did hearing about
her ex bother him? Must be. Some men loathed knowing any details about a woman’s past relationships. Maybe Gio was one of those.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this. I’m being a total bummer.”

  Hands clasped in front of him, he shook his head. “Don’t worry. Discussing your ex doesn’t bother me. I’m sorry that he’s harassing you. I suppose he wants to get back together.”

  His assumption was flattering, but so off-point. “No, I assure you he’s not. But we have unfinished business, and I mean that literally, and he apparently can’t wait for me to finish my vacation in peace.”

  She twisted her lips in a lopsided movement that wasn’t quite a smile, but Gio stared at her without expression.

  “He wants you back,” he said evenly.

  “Trust me, he doesn’t.” The idea was laughable. “Why don’t we forget all about Richard and head over to the Veleria pensionne? I still can’t believe you found it. There were no details about it at all online.”

  Gio stood when she did. “That’s because it’s no longer in business as a hotel, but I spoke with the owner and she has no problem with us stopping by to visit.”

  They were heading out the door when she remembered that he’d wanted to tell her something. “What was it that you were going to say earlier?”

  His lips parted and he stopped short on the sidewalk. “Um, I, yes…”

  Shuffling his feet, he looked at her and then down, gesturing to the opposite side of the street. When he stayed quiet, she spoke up.

  “Is there something across the street you wanted to show me?”

  “No. I uh—I have another job.”

  Stunned, she stared at him blankly for a second. “Are you giving up street performing?”

  “Er, no. I mean I’ve always had another job. I work…at a bank.”

  Incredulous, she laughed. “Wow. That’s incredible. You’re moonlighting on your job as a street performer by working at a bank. Are you like a teller or something?”

  “A teller?”

  “The person who gives money at the counter,” she clarified, wondering what they called it in Italy.