“See, there is a bathroom, and a little kitchen, and a bedroom at the back. I’m not sure about the bed. It may not have been used for a long time. I’ll have a new one delivered.” He opened another door, and there was a tiny bedroom, just big enough for the bed and a chest of drawers. “And any other furniture you might need,” he said, coming back into the main room. “I don’t know how warm the bedroom would be. There is a stove, but it will need coal.”

I noticed the furniture for the first time. A couple of brocade armchairs. A table and two chairs in ornately carved wood, and in the window a beautiful writing desk. I looked around. “How is it heated?”

“The stove in the corner,” he said, indicating the same sort of porcelain stove my landlady had. My first thought was of trying to haul coal up four flights.

“There is a pulley outside,” he said. “You put the coal in the bucket, and up it comes. But do not worry. You will not have to do this.”

“Why not?”

“I have arranged for a woman to come in,” he said. “Francesca. She is the mother of one of our employees. A local woman. Used to hard work and needs a job as her husband has just died. She has had six children. She will take good care of you. You tell her what you want done, and she will do it—the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping. Whatever you want. I think you will be happy here, yes?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the view. “Yes, I think I will,” I said. Then my practical side took over. “But isn’t the rent very expensive?”

He laughed. “No rent,” he said. “It’s yours.”

“What?”

“I’m giving it to you. I’ve talked to our lawyer, and he is drawing up a ninety-nine-year lease for this floor. It belongs to you now. Stay as long as you want, or go, knowing you can always come back.”

“Leo, I don’t know what to say,” I muttered, terrified I might cry.

“Cara mia, it’s the least I can do,” he said tenderly. “And selfish, too. I want a place where I can visit you.”

This set off an alarm bell in my head. I wanted to have the chance to see him, but . . . “Leo, you should understand that I’m not going to be your mistress,” I said.

“But cara . . .”

I took a step away from him. “Isn’t that what rich men do? They buy a nice flat so they can visit their mistresses whenever they want? So convenient.”