Salvatore

20

I stare out at the view before me, taking in the sights of the city. I can see the Colosseum from here, and the Vatican in the distance, too. It's only just starting to get dark, but the lights of the city are still shining bright.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sainte comments, appearing in the doorway of the balcony.

"It's incredible," I say. "I've never seen it like this before. I've only ever been here in winter."

"Italy is best in the summer."

"I can tell."

"We can buy a place here if you'd like."

"Really?" I turn towards him. He's not wearing anything but a pair of boxers, matching me in my silk dressing gown. We've been at it all day. We never made it to our lunch plans and cancelled our dinner date. We can't keep our hands off each other. It might've actually become a problem if we couldn't order room service.

I don't know what else we have planned for this trip, but I doubt we'll be making it out of the room. We probably won't even get any sleep tonight.

"Of course," he nods. "I'll put someone on it as soon as we get back."

"I love that," I smile. "You can just snap your fingers and make anything happen, regardless of how much it costs of his difficult it is."

"Money is not an object, Sofia," he stands behind me, running his fingers through my hair. "I want you to be happy with me."

"I don't need expensive things to be happy."

"it's more than that," he explains. "I want you to feel at home here. Better yet, I want to build a home with you."

I turn around in my seat, looking up at him. He's still got the same seriousness in his eyes, but his expression is a lot more gentle. I press a kiss on his stomach.

"How did you get so sweet?" I ask him. "You're not at all what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Your father."

"Of course," he snickers.

"Can I ask what it was like to grow up with him?"

"It was fine," he tells me. "It's just what you'd expect. He was harsh, but he didn't have much time for me. He was always chasing some new woman."

"Your father's had four wives, right?"

"That's right, but he never loved any of them. I don't think he's capable of love."

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's nothing " he shrugs. "I can't imagine your youth was any better."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw how your parents treated you at our first dinner," he says. "They spoke to you like you were a child."

"They're just overbearing," I brush him off. "They really wanted this to work out."

"And is it?"

"Yes," I laugh. "It's working out really well."

"Do you think you'd still be here if we had met under different circumstances?"

"Probably," I nod. "I definitely would've been attracted to you but I'd either be too shy to talk to you, or I'd throw myself at you—depending on the amount of alcohol in my body."

"That's good to know," he chuckles. "I wasn't sure how you'd react—if you'd hate the idea of an arranged marriage, or even hate me."

"What would have happened if that was the case?"