“It’s fantastic.”
Julia eagerly perused the architecture and its interplay of stone and dome and pillar. The sky was the color of ink, and the dome almost seemed to glow against its backdrop.
Gabriel brought his hands to cup her cheeks. “I want to speak to you about what happened this morning.”
He felt her tense beneath his touch. His eyes sought hers and he moved his thumbs gently across her cheekbones. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”
“I know it was difficult for you to walk away from her at first. But you did. And I’m grateful for that.” Her dark eyes glinted. “You still like to fight.”
Gabriel took her hands in his and pulled them into his chest.
“I like to fight with people other than you. Christa is a bully. The only way to deal with bullies is to confront them.”
Julia lifted her chin. “Sometimes, you should let the nastiness speak for itself. Or at least, let her target decide for herself what’s to be done.”
“I can do that. At least, I can try.”
“That’s all I ask.” Julia brushed her lips against his. “I’m sorry she brought up Professor Pain. I had no idea they knew each other.”
Gabriel closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were pained.
“I confessed my past. I left it behind. Must I be reminded of it forever?”
“I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around his back, bringing their chests together.
They were quiet for a moment and Gabriel pushed his face into her neck, clutching her tightly.
“Caravaggio,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I remember what you said about his painting of St. Thomas and Jesus—how our scars might heal but they never disappear. You can’t eliminate your past but you don’t have to be controlled by it.”
“I know that. But I doubt anyone would want their sexual encounters broadcasted to their work colleagues.”
“Anyone who would judge you based on old gossip isn’t a friend of yours, anyway.” She pulled back so she could look into his eyes. “Those of us who know you will ignore the gossip.”
“Thank you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead before meeting her gaze. “People and circumstances will conspire to alienate us from one another, Julianne. We can’t let them do that.”
“We won’t.”
“I didn’t mean to ignore you. You mean more to me than anything,” he whispered.
“It’s the same for me.”
She breached the distance between their mouths in order to kiss him, her lips soft and ever moving.
Some distance away, Professor Giuseppe Pacciani groaned his release and collapsed on top of his lover’s body. Sex with her was always magnificent, and this coupling was no exception.
He mumbled a few phrases in Italian, as was his custom. But instead of welcoming his words, she pushed him aside and rolled away. Sadly, this was not unusual.
“Cara?”
Christa Peterson pulled the sheet over her naked body. “I need the room tomorrow night. You’ll have to stay somewhere else.”
With a curse, Giuseppe eased his bare feet to the floor. He walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. “This is my room.”
“No,” she called to him. “It’s my room. You always pay for my accommodations. And I’ll be entertaining tomorrow night.”
He returned to the bed and soon she was under him again, his forearms on either side of her shoulders.
“You’d take someone to your bed so soon? The sheets will still be warm.”
Her dark eyes flashed.
“Don’t judge me. You’re married. Who I fuck is none of your business.”
He bent down and kissed her, his lips insistent until she opened her mouth.
“Such a dirty mouth, Cristina.”
“You love it when I’m dirty.”
He sighed, and his expression morphed into a wry smile.
“Si.”
He moved to his back, taking her with him.
“I want to get up.” She pulled against his arms.
“No.”
She struggled but he would not let her go. Finally, she relented, resting her head against him.
He toyed with her hair. This was part of their arrangement. Afterward, she had to let him hold her.
Perhaps he did so simply to satisfy himself that there was something affectionate about their fucking. Perhaps he did so because he was not an entirely ruthless adulterer. But whatever the reason, she always resisted for a moment or two, even though she secretly liked being held.
“I was surprised to hear from you, Cristina. We were supposed to meet a year ago. You never answered.”
“I was busy.”
He lifted the ends of her raven hair to his nose, inhaling its fragrance.
“I wondered why you insisted I bring you. You’re here for revenge.”
“We’re both getting what we wanted.”
His fingers stilled.
“Be careful, Cristina. You don’t want Professor Picton as an enemy.”
“I don’t care.”
Pacciani cursed.