I am saying sorry,” Gianpierre said, putting a hand over his heart. “Take off today. Take off tomorrow. Take care of your famigghia. I will see you Friday when you come back to your job.” At least it would give him a small respite from her.

Luciana took a breath as if she was getting ready to lob an objection, but then she simply gave a curt nod of acceptance. “That will help, sir… Gianpierre. Thank you.” She offered up the weakest smile he’d ever gotten from her before she turned to make her way from the Romano del Mare’s enormous inner courtyard. Her first steps included a limp, but it disappeared after only a moment through what Gianpierre assumed was force of will.

Luciana’s strength reminded Gianpierre of his grandmother. She’d been a formidable woman, tough as nails but as kind and gentle as a lamb.

Gianpierre turned his attention to his crew.

“Bernardo, Carmine—tape off the new hole and do what you can to clean up this area so that reconstruction can continue tomorrow. Everyone else, make a line and tap every inch of this courtyard. Look for spots ready to cave and tape them off. Then, make a map of the courtyard and mark the spots. Overlay it with a map of the tunnels and mark the spots that still need to be checked. Paolo, you are with me in the tunnels. If you do not hear from us in an hour, someone come check on us.”

“Se, capo,” chorused the people of Gianpierre’s loyal crew, telling him “yes, boss.” They’d been with him for years, and had followed him to the most remote locations on Earth. Being back home in Sicily was a treat for everyone, except Gianpierre.

That wasn’t exactly true. Gianpierre loved being back in Italy, and Sicily especially. It was his home. It was his heart. His heritage was in Sicily. It held his past, and it was his future. But, it was not where he wanted to be right now. He wasn’t ready to settle down and make the medieval architecture of Italy his consuming passion. There was still the whole world to see and travel. There were still ruins to explore and save, ruins with history different than the ruins of Italy. He wasn’t ready for Sicily to become his everything—not yet.

Six hours later, a tired and dirty Gianpierre and Paolo emerged from the snaking tunnels beneath the Romano del Mare.

“Ciau, everybody. Go to your families. See you tomorrow,” he said, releasing his crew for the night. They had done a good job, and he wouldn’t risk wearing out their good will by working them so hard that they missed out on spending time with family they had barely seen in months. “Send me all pictures of problem spots within the next couple of hours.” He’d go over them later. Just because their day of work had ended didn’t mean his had.

Collecting the rolls of plans and notes made by his crew, he headed for home—or rather home base. It was an apartment that he’d been renting for years in the nearby town. It was the top level, floor-through of a 4-story building that gave him exclusive use of the roof, which he’d converted for use as a gym.

When he’d rented the place years ago, he’d only meant to keep it for six months, but six months had somehow turned into over ten years. It was the closest thing to a home that he had, even if he was only there at most two months out of the year.

Running up the building’s stairs instead of taking the elevator, Gianpierre let himself in through the door that he never bothered to lock whenever he was in town. The day’s sweat had mingled with centuries-old dust, leaving him feeling grimy.

Pulling the strap of his scarred and beaten leather courier bag over his head and leaving it on the floor, Gianpierre kicked off his boots next to the door so as not to track the work-site’s ancient dirt through his apartment. Next, he stripped off his clothes and left them in a pile before walking through the apartment naked to the shower.

The hot water from the shower streamed over his head and temporarily turned the swirling water at his feet gray as his body let go of the last of the day’s grime. Turning around, he let the water pound the tired muscles of his back. He had traced every passage archway of the resort’s catacombs and had even discovered a long-ago caved in section that required extensive excavation and structural repair. The discovery would push his schedule back by weeks if not months, and it was time he couldn’t spare.

Turning off the water, Gianpierre dried himself before tossing the towel over his hair. Rubbing it as he walked, he headed to his bedroom, passing the apartment’s entryway as he went.

A woman’s gasp made him freeze and then turn as he dropped the towel from his head to drape across his broad shoulders. There, in front of a still-open door, stood a tall, slender woman with large, round eyes and a mouth that was open in shock.

“Luciana?”

* * *

Luciana had come to see the apartment but was getting an eye full of so much more. Gianpierre whipped the towel from around his broad, muscular shoulders and made hasty work of wrapping it around his tight waist. Behind her, Luciana heard the real estate agent enter and knew that little Natalia would be with her.

“Sir…” Luciana whispered. It was an apology and question all in one. Behind her, Signora Rizzo gasped, and Luciana turned around just in time to see the older woman slip her hand over Natalia’s eyes.

“What is this?” Gianpierre demanded. His still-damp body glistened, his layers of muscles begging to be traced by Luciana’s hands.

“I…” Luciana said, shaking her head. She didn’t know what to say, and she gave Signora Rizzo an imploring look.

“Signora Romano, this apartment is for sale!”

“What?” Gianpierre said, taking a threatening step forward with his shoulders bunched as if ready to fight Poseidon himself.

“We contacted you. Letters have been sent for six months with no response. We had no choice but to move forward. The building has new owners, and instead of offering rentals, they’re offering the apartments for sale. I am sorry, Signore. I did not know that you were in town.” Through it all, she kept her hands over Natalia’s eyes even though the little girl squirmed and pulled at the woman’s hands.

“You are selling my home?”

Signora Rizzo shrugged. “Would you like to buy it?”

Luciana watched, amazed, as Gianpierre took a step back with the same sudden intensity that he had taken a step forward. His eyes darted from place to place within the space that he called home, and Luciana was sure that she saw panic in his eyes.

“Signore Romano?” the real estate agent prompted again.

“No, no… I’m only renting. This is a temporary home. I’m not settling down. I travel too much to own. It makes no sense.”

It makes no sense to rent for ten years. As part of the sales pitch, Signora Rizzo had told Luciana how long the current tenant had lived in the apartment. It was a sign of satisfaction with the location. Luciana had had no idea at all that the tenant was Gianpierre Romano—her boss—whom she had now seen naked, and oh what a sight it had been!

“I’m sorry,” Luciana said. “I’m so sorry. We’ll go.”

She turned to leave but Signora Rizzo leaned a shoulder into her path. “You do not even want to see the place? It is beautiful.”

“I—” Luciana looked behind her but found Gianpierre gone. “I should go.” She shrugged. “I can’t even afford this place. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“But you could! If you sell,” she paused and her eyes saddened. When she continued, she spoke as if she were choosing her words carefully. “If you sell your sister’s place and your place in America, then use the money as a down payment, your monthly mortgage will be only a little bit more than your budget allows.” She shrugged. “It is a big place. Three bedrooms. Maybe if you take a tenant, the cost will become easy for you.”

Luciana looked around her. The floors were a rich, dark hardwood with a red tint and the walls were painted a creamy white. The arched doors were wide and the layout was spacious. Everything about it had an old-world charm, but also the clean lines of a modern space with all of the modern comforts. And, of course, the fact that it was Gianpierre’s became clear as she took in its decor. On the walls were displayed a variety of antique, medieval stone masonry tools. Rare world maps from varying eras canvased another wall, and circular tubes—the kind that held blueprints and building plans—were leaning in groups in every available corner. This was Gianpierre’s home.

“It even has exclusive access to the roof,” Signora Rizzo whispered as if sharing a secret. “You could have a garden up there.”

A garden… Luciana’s eyes shifted to the ceiling as if she could look through it to what was above and found herself nodding before she even spoke. “Yes, yes. I’d like to see it.”

Gianpierre reappeared from a side hallway. His tousled hair was no longer dripping water. He was barefoot and dressed in old jeans that were threadbare at the knees, and his shirt could have been worn by a pirate. It was white cotton with an open V neck. It made it impossible for Luciana to look anywhere but at the rising slope and carved valley of Gianpierre’s pecs. His sun kissed skin made her lips tingle with the need to kiss him.

Forcing her brain to think, Luciana amended her previous statement. “I’d like to see it, if it’s okay with… Signore Romano.” She chose not to use his first name. The real estate agent was still blissfully unaware of the situation that she had thrown Luciana into, and Luciana was happy to keep it that way. There was no need to add to the discomfort that the awkward situation had already created.

The color was high in Gianpierre’s face, a vein popping at his temple. He slapped his thigh and ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. Luciana was sure he was going to throw them out, but to her complete surprise, he said, “Sure. I will show you myself.”

She hesitated. The man almost fired me today, and now I’ve barged my way into his home. I should leave.

“Please, come,” he said, waving them forward. “Over here is the dining room.” He motioned to the side of the entryway where a table sat. It was covered with work paraphernalia, but beneath that, it looked to be crafted out of huge wood beams sometimes found along the ceilings of old structures.

Reaching for Natalia’s hand, Luciana moved deeper into the apartment as Signora Rizzo trailed behind.

“And through here is the kitchen.”

To call it a kitchen felt like an understatement. It had a cathedral ceiling and the appliances looked as though they belonged in a chef’s kitchen. They all gleamed of shiny stainless steel, but the refrigerator had a cabinet front on it that made it disappear into the wall.

Luciana swallowed nervously. Replacing the kitchen appliances would be expensive, but there was no way Gianpierre would leave such high-end items behind.

Gianpierre tapped his finger against a pot hanging down from the corner of the stove’s hood. “I cook while I’m here, but I’m not here often, so the stove and the rest have not seen much use. They will remain good for years.”

What? “You plan to leave the appliances?”

Gianpierre shrugged. “I have nowhere else to put them. They were bought for this space.”

Luciana shot Signora Rizzo a worried glance as she wondered how much the high-end appliances would increase the cost of the apartment. But if Gianpierre bought them, maybe it won’t increase the cost any. Signora Rizzo’s quick note scribbling didn’t leave her with much hope of that, though.

“I have a gym on the roof, and I had a pool installed.”

Luciana’s mouth fell open.

“There is a pool up there?” Signora Rizzo exclaimed.

Gianpierre shrugged again. “The former owner said it was fine.”

Signora Rizzo scratched furious notes in her pad, and Luciana could practically hear the sound of a cash register chiming.

He made all of these upgrades to a place that he was renting! The price was going to be too much now, and she knew that she should just leave… but she didn’t. Gianpierre continued his tour and they followed along. He showed them the bedrooms next. They were spacious and well-lit with a stunning view of the bay. Then there was the family room, his office, a gorgeous bathroom, and finally a balcony.

When she stepped outside, a soft breeze blowing in from over the water swept Luciana’s hair this way and that around her face.

“This is where I like to have breakfast,” Gianpierre said as he pulled free a strand of hair that had wrapped itself around her neck and brushed it over her shoulder. His touch made Luciana shiver, but it seemed to mean nothing to him.

Tearing her gaze away from Gianpierre, Luciana took in her surroundings and drew in a deep breath as she fought tears. It was beautiful. It was tranquil. The ocean was a brilliant blue in front of them, and the building’s height and location provided a bird’s eye view of the small, quiet town as it sloped down toward the water’s edge.

Then, Luciana noticed the noise—or rather the lack of noise. There was a distant sound of traffic, but it was very distant, since mostly people walked in town. An occasional sound of laughter reached her ears.

“It’s so peaceful,” Luciana said, then picked Natalia up so that the little girl was propped on her hip. Through the entire tour, Natalia hadn’t said a peep. She’d been quiet as a mouse and had watched Gianpierre with her large, round eyes rather than take in the home. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you think you would like living here?”

The little girl took so long to speak that Luciana almost gave up on her saying anything. “Matri liked our home,” the little girl finally said as she wound her hand into Luciana’s hair.

“She did,” Luciana said, smiling as she gave the little girl’s belly a rub. “Do you remember what else she liked?”

The little girl shook her head no.

“She liked the ocean. She loved to look at it. Do you think that she would like the view from this balcony?”

The little girl’s gaze shifted to the ocean and she seemed to study it. Then, looking back at Luciana, Natalia nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Do you think she would like it if you got to look at the ocean for her?”

Natalia nodded again, and then returned her gaze to the ocean before laying her head on Luciana’s shoulder.

Luciana turned to Signora Rizzo, and in a quiet, soft voice she said, “We’ll take it.”