“Let go of me,” she demanded as he hustled her toward his Ferrari, double parked, in the true Roman fashion, just outside the door. “Dammit, Nicolo, I said—”
“Get in the car.”
“No!”
He opened the door and thrust her inside, then came quickly around and jumped in beside her.
“Nicolo. What the hell—”
The tires screamed as he jammed his foot to the floor and the car shot into traffic.
“So,” he said through his teeth, “you never left Roma.”
“Of course I did!”
“No wonder I couldn’t locate you.” The engine growled as he shifted into gear. “Cristo, when I think of the money I spent on detectives…” He threw her a cold look. “You would not believe how many Bishops there are in Manhattan, nor in Vermont and New Hampshire.”
Caroline gaped at him. “Detectives. You hired detectives to find me? But—but why?”
His mouth thinned. “There is unfinished business between us,” he said coldly.
She nodded. “Oh, I agree,” she said, just as coldly. “There are things I should have said to you that I didn’t. It will be a pleasure to get them off my chest!”
“I cannot believe you were here, in Roma, while I was employing half the detectives in New York to find you!”
“You should have hired one who’d heard of Brooklyn, because that’s where I was.”
“Brooklyn?” He glared at her. “But you said you were going home, to New York City.”
“Brooklyn’s a part of the city, but you wouldn’t know that.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s like knowing the idioms, I guess. Unless you’re American, you just can’t understand certain things. Not that it matters—your detective wouldn’t have found me anyway. I was subleasing an apartment, not renting in my own name.”
The Ferrari swerved sharply as he pulled to the curb. He shut off the engine and swung toward her.
“So. All your talk of not being a model ever again was just that, eh? Talk—and nothing more.”
Caroline crossed her arms over her breasts. “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.”
“Do you work for International Models or another agency now?” She sat like stone, staring straight ahead. “What was the problem, cara? Did you miss the money? The excitement? Or was it the pleasure of having men’s eyes on you that you could not do without?”
She spun and faced him. “For your information, Your Highness, today was the first time I’ve modeled since I left Rome.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. I’m here as a design apprentice. It was only because they were short-handed that I agreed to help out and…” Their eyes met; she saw cool amusement in his gaze, and she flushed and swung away from his again. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“No?”
“No.” She reached for the door handle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I—”
“I told you, Caroline, there is business between us.”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“A few minutes ago, you agreed that there was.”
Caroline eyed him coldly. “Only because I realized I never did get around to telling you that you are, without questions, the most insolent, willful, egocentric human being I’ve ever met!”
Nicolo laughed. “What a charming list of adjectives, cara. I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. And don’t call me ‘cara,’ dammit!”
“Don’t be vulgar.”
“I’ll be as vulgar as I like. You don’t own me, Your Highness. I am my own woman, and—”
He caught her face in his hands. “You are my woman,” he growled, and before she could say another word, he kissed her.
Her hands came up and clamped onto his wrists. “Don’t,” she said.
But he ignored her, his mouth moving slowly over hers, not with anger, not even with desire, but with something so sweet, so dear, that Caroline began to tremble.
Her fingers curled around his wrists. “Don’t,” she said again, but the word was a lie, a whisper without meaning. Her lips parted under his, she moaned softly, and all at once she knew that she had never, not for a heartbeat, stopped loving him. How could she have? He was part of her; she was part of him. She would love him forever, despite everything he was.
Her eyes opened slowly as he drew back. His eyes swept over her face, and he smiled.
“Carissima,” he whispered.
Caroline swallowed. “This—this won’t solve anything. It won’t prove anything.”
He let go of her and slipped out from behind the wheel of the car. She waited while he came around to her side and opened the door.
“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.
Like a sleepwalker, she put her hand into his, stepped onto the pavement, let him lead her forward…
“Wait a minute,” she said. She dug in her heels and came to a grinding halt. “Wait a damned minute—”
Nicolo turned and took her in his arms. “I have told you repeatedly,” he said. “It is unladylike for such words to come from such a beautiful mouth.”
“I’ll say whatever I damned well please!”
His mouth closed on hers. He kissed her deeply, until she was clinging to his shoulders, and then he drew back.
“And I will silence you when you do, cara.” He smiled just a little. “We will see which of us lasts the longer. Now, come with me. We were going to settle our differences, once and for all.”
“Nicolo! Are you crazy? Where are you taking me?” she demanded as he tugged her after him.
“We are in the Forum Boarium. Do you see that church ahead? It is Santa Maria in Cosmedin, and it is very old.”
Wild laughter bubbled in Caroline’s throat. “You’ve already taken me on a tour of Rome. I don’t want another one!”
“What you are getting is not a tour, but a chance to tell the truth, Caroline.”
She stumbled after him the length of the church portico, bumping against him when he came to a sudden stop.
“All right.” She looked at him. His voice had taken on a strange, almost solemn tone. “We are here.”
“Where?”
“Here,” Nicolo said, nodding at the wall before them.
Caroline looked from him to the wall. A large, round stone plaque was set into it, depicting the face of a human or, perhaps, a god. She could see that it was very old—and somehow very frightening. It had two small, dark holes for eyes, a straight nose, and an open mouth that was a slash of darkness.
A tremor danced along her skin. “What is that?” she whispered.
Nicolo put his arm around her waist. “La Bocca di Verità,” he said. “The Mouth of Truth.”
Caroline stared at the face. It was on the wall of a Christian church, but there was no doubt in her mind that the sculpture was pagan. It looked dangerous and alien, and suddenly she wanted to get as far from it as she could.
“Why does it look so—so—”
“In ancient times, my ancestors believed that if you told a lie while putting your hand into the mouth, it would bite off the hand.”
“I don’t like it,” she said positively.
Nicolo’s mouth twisted. “One does not like or dislike the Mouth of Truth, Caroline.”
“No? Well, maybe Romans take that approach. But I’m an American, I don’t like it, and I’m leaving.”
His arm held her fast. “All you have to do is answer one question.”