“I’m not mad.” I grinned and pushed the hair out of her face. “It’s just torture to stay in a room alone with you.”

“So what do we do?” she asked.

“We have Italy to explore.”

STORY

“Closed till February of next year?”

I turned around, lips pushed in a pout. His eyes dropped to them, dark. Dark like earlier when we’d almost broken rules that hadn’t even had a chance to dry.

I shifted. “What?”

“Nothing.” His voice was hoarse. “So, you wanna see the Sistine Chapel?”

“It’s closed.” I threw a thumb over my shoulder at the sign.

He arched a brow, then rolled his eyes, grabbing my hand and dragging me from what I learned was a public entrance cough peasant’s entrance cough. Because all it took for Grayson to get us in was an expertly placed wad of cash in the hands of someone with the right key. I didn’t even try to count how many bills, but the denominations were high.

“What if we get caught?” I whispered, looking over my shoulder, where the Rome night silhouetted the man counting his new cash.

“That’s what the rest of the cash is for.”

My eyes bugged, and he laughed. “Come on, little nun. Let’s go.” He tugged me harder, forcing my eyes forward.

I stopped short, tilting my head back, frozen in awe. So many colors, so many scenes, it would take months, maybe years, to decipher them all. The murals were bathed in a warm glow. Somehow, it felt even more secret, more special.

“Wow,” I finally managed.

Grayson wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. I pulled his hand, tracing his ring finger, staring at the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Do you know why engagement rings are worn on the ring finger?” I felt him shake his head. “Ancient Greeks thought that finger contained the vena amoris, or the ‘vein of love’ that ran straight to the heart.”

His voice grated when he spoke. “I always thought engagement rings were a bit too ephemeral.”

“So you’d want, like, a tattoo?”

“Something like that…Did you know Michelangelo hated painting this so much he wrote a poem?”

I gasped. “What? No!”

His smile warmed my cheek. “I think the first line went something like…I’ve already grown a goiter from this torture.”

I laughed, then focused again on the masterpiece above me. Torture. It had been torture for him, but wow, people traveled from all over the world to see it.

It was in history books.

“Hmm…I guess some good things come from torture.”

He pulled me tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Anything else you want? Would you like to sneak into the Colosseum? Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

My stomach did a pancake at his words.

“What if I wanted the moon?”