His Mafia Prince
Chapter 256: Right Here, Right Now

Chapter 256: Right Here, Right Now

(SASHA)

Snoring beauty awakes a few hours later, complaining of a dry throat and a stiff neck.

"Go shower," I say, stroking my fingers through his hair on the pillow where he’s still lying, "and then we’ll go out for dinner."

He stretches, yawns, and shuffles off to the bathroom. I’ve unpacked and I’ve answered all the emails from Miles, saving my replies to draft as well—still no word from La Contessa, according to him—so I amuse myself with television until Tyler is dressed and ready to go.

There’s an elevator, but we take the stairs instead, and then we’re out on the streets of Rome, two anonymous lovers in a city where no one is trying to kill either of us.

Not immediately, anyway.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask Tyler, slinging an arm across his shoulders.

"There’s a restaurant area a few streets away," he says, gesturing. "We could walk over there and find a place."

"Perfect."

The nightlife in this part of Rome is almost as busy, but somehow without the same sense of urgency—and definitely more sky. I’m so accustomed to being towered over by buildings that the more open skyline takes a little getting used to.

I wonder, as we’re seated at an outside table at the restaurant we chose, who over the millennia has passed over exactly the same spot I’m sitting in now. All around us, the air is filled with chatter and laughter, the smell of red wine and garlic as table staff pass by, and when I catch Tyler’s eye, he’s smiling softly at me.

I reach over to take his hand. "Ciao, bellissimo."

"Don’t flirt too hard with me," he says with a grin. "I’m a married man, and my husband tends to get jealous."

"With a prize like you? I can’t blame him."

We quit making gooey eyes at each other when the server comes out with our meals, and for the rest of our time there, we talk only idly about unimportant things and simply bask in each other’s company.

"I wish I’d come here long ago," I say after dessert, looking around the street. It’s even busier now than when we arrived. The string lights decorating the large umbrellas overhead reflected off the yellowed stones of the building opposite, lending the whole street a warm glow that matches my mood. "But no—I don’t wish that," I add. "Because I didn’t have you long ago, and I do believe you’re the one making it so magical here, angel."

"Roma has her charms, no doubt, but mine are superior," Tyler agrees, with that plain-speaking arrogance that I so love about him.

It’s not like he’s wrong, either.

"Come on," I say, standing to stretch out my legs. "I want to walk around as much as possible, get rid of any jet lag." I put out my hand to help Tyler up, and out of habit, I glance up and down the street. Back home, I stay at heightened alert much of the time. I can’t just turn it off, even on vacation.

I catch a glimpse of a figure rounding a corner into an alleyway, and something about the scene makes me pay sharper attention.

"What’s wrong?" Tyler asks softly.

I watch the corner a moment more. I’m probably seeing things; between the jet lag and the stress and the paranoia everyone accuses me of, it wouldn’t be surprising. But I trust my own judgement enough to keep one eye on the street even as I smile at Tyler and say, "Nothing at all, uccellino. Let’s go."

No one reappears. As we pass by the alley, I glance up at it. Empty.

We come upon the Colosseum suddenly, without warning, so that I stop dead and stare in delight. It’s lit up all over with a golden glow, formidable and beautiful. It’s bigger than I thought it would be, and yet so exactly like all the photographs that I feel a sense of familiarity.

"We’ll have to come back when it’s open," I say. "Go in with the tourists. Easier to disappear that way."

"We can do that, but we really need to meet La Contessa as soon as we can, too." Tyler has barely glanced at the ancient monument; his pensive mood tells me his mind has returned to our reason for being here.

"We will," I assure him. We keep walking, crossing the road to stand under the enormous, sturdy walls of the Colosseum. I crane my neck back to take it in.

"Has Gloria heard from her?" Tyler persists.

I look away from the marvels of Roman engineering and down at my favourite sight in the whole world. "I don’t know. She hadn’t last time I checked."

"Can you..." He bites his lip.

I pull him close and kiss his forehead. "I’ll check again," I tell him, and pull out my phone to thumb through it. "Your instincts were right," I say after a moment. "Miles tells me she’ll meet us tomorrow, in Saint Peter’s Square. She’s asked us to wait by the obelisk at noon."

Tyler’s eyes light up. "She agreed?" "She agreed."

"Thank fuck! Once we’ve met her, we can relax and really enjoy ourselves."

There’s no guarantee that meeting us will mean La Contessa is willing to give us the information we need—if she even knows it—but the news has buoyed Tyler. And he’s right, of course. We’re here for a purpose, not just pleasure. Still, I can’t help thinking the whole journey will be wasted if Tyler is only determined to get that rosary.

"Let’s go back to the hotel," I suggest. "Break in the bed. Or just break it." Tyler’s familiar grin lifts my heart. "Sounds like a plan."

We wander back up the road, and I think about how far I’ve come from the boy I was to the here and now. I never even dared to think of coming to Rome.

"Isn’t the hotel that way?" Tyler asks suddenly, trying to pull me a different way.

"Yes, but there’s no harm in looking around the neighbourhood a little more, is there? We can take the scenic route."

"Okay," he agrees with a shrug, and I’m glad he doesn’t push it. The truth is—whether or not I’m being hypercautious—it makes sense to avoid direct routes to and from where we’re staying. Back home, I know the layout well enough to be able to intuit if something’s off. Here in Rome, not so much. But I’ll rely on my instincts as I always have. If they’re telling me to be cautious, I’ll be cautious.

The only problem is, that going off the main streets has led us into less well-lit, less frequented areas. Fewer people means I’ll be able to identify any potential attackers more easily, but it also means I’m staring hard at everyone we pass—and some of them look like they might take exception to being stared at.

Tyler, though, seems oblivious, and I wonder at it until it occurs to me: he feels completely safe. Despite everything that has happened to us, not just recently but over the last few years, I still have his complete trust.

"You know," Tyler says, as we go by a particularly dark and dangerous-looking alleyway, "we don’t have to try to fuck in that uncomfortable-looking bed, baby." He looks up at me from under my arm and gives me a wicked smirk.

"The shower’s too small," I point out. "Wasn’t thinking about the shower." "Then where—"

He moves away from me, grabs me by the hand as he does, and pulls me a few steps down the street to the alley we just passed by. "Why not right here?"

We pause, Tyler leaning back on his heels as he hangs off my arm, both his hands clasped around my wrist, while I counterbalance him. He bites his lip, and I can see the glaze of arousal across his cheekbones. "Please?"

It’s the please that makes up my mind. After checking behind him and looking over my shoulder to scan the street as well, I let him pull me into the dark alley.

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