Beatrice snorted. “Well, you guys have fun. Want to meet somewhere for dinner later?”

“Don’t you and Gio have the meeting with the mother-in-law of doom later?”

She shrugged. “There’s some sort of cocktail party at her place later tonight, but not until one or two in the morning, so we could meet you guys for dinner.”

“Okay, cool! We’ll call the house after the sun sets. Also, I’m very curious what a Roman aristocrat serves at a cocktail party.”

“Um, I’m going to guess... cocktails.”

Dez narrowed her eyes. “And the blood of her enemies.”

“Oh, well that too, of course.”

“Of course!” Dez skipped out of the room and Beatrice wondered when the fabled exhaustion of pregnant women would hit her friend. So far, Dez seemed to have more energy, not less. Though apparently, from the agonized whining she heard from their room every day, the morning sickness was in full swing. Angela just clucked her tongue at Dez and fed her grapefruit for some reason.

Beatrice was reading through the journals again when she heard Giovanni start to wake. She set them down and slipped upstairs. She was trying to be better about being next to him when he woke because she knew he liked it. She was also worried about him. He seemed to be dreaming more, though when he woke, she suspected the dreams were more like nightmares. His eyes held a lean, haunted look that was only growing worse.

She slid under the covers next to him just as he began to move, tucking herself under his arm as he pulled her tight, even as he slumbered.

“Mmm.” He began to murmur something in Italian. His accent, she noticed with pleasure, was heavier since they’d arrived. He slipped into his native language more, and she was grateful that understanding him was no longer a problem. Beatrice had already been able to speak English, Spanish, and Latin before she turned. But now she could speak Italian and a lot of Mandarin, too. She could also read classical Greek, Persian, and Arabic. She was still working on her Hebrew.

Giovanni stopped speaking and nuzzled into her neck as he began to tease her clothes off even before he was fully awake. Now that, she decided, was talent.

“You move differently here.”

“I what?” Giovanni blinked and looked around as they walked up the Via dei Condotti, past the luxury shops, headed toward the ristorante where Matt had chosen to meet them after their walking tour with Ben.

“You move differently.” She slid an arm around his waist, keeping pace with easy strides. “I don’t know, you’re more... Italian, I guess.”

“Beatrice, I am a Florentine. I will always be a Florentine.”

“But see”—she poked his side—“Like that. In L.A. you would just say you’re Italian. But here, you’re Florentine.”

“So?” He frowned. “I’m in Rome. There is a difference. Is there something wrong with this?”

“No, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“And you walk different, too. You’re not in as much of a hurry here.”

He just grunted at her, no doubt thinking she was imagining it, but she wasn’t. He looked... lighter, somehow. Comfortable. In California, she often thought Giovanni seemed more British than Italian, but here, he gestured more. His accent was stronger. His shoulders were more expressive, and his eyes more languorous.

“Whatever it is, it’s hot. So go with it.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down and whispered something very dirty in her ear. If she could have blushed, she would have. Then he nipped at her ear and murmured, “Does it sound better in Italian?”

“Yes.”

He pinched her waist and kept walking. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They spotted Matt waiting outside the restaurant. He waved at them and jogged over.

“Hey, guys. Dez and Ben are inside. I just wanted to catch you before you went in. Gio, Emil Conti’s inside.”

Giovanni only raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Matt shrugged. “He does live around here, so it’s not that unexpected.”

Beatrice looked between them. “Emil Conti? Who’s that again?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Old Roman,” Giovanni said. “Water vampire, very old family from the Republic. He’s older than Livia, but has never enjoyed her popularity. He’s not the attention-seeking kind.”

“Brilliant guy, though,” Matt added. “He could easily take Rome if he really tried.”

Giovanni hummed. “That’s debatable. I’m not certain what his support would be like. He and Livia have entertained a low-key rivalry for a few centuries, so I know she considers him a threat, but I’m not sure he has the ambition. Is Donatella with him?”

Matt shook his head. “No, a female companion. No one I recognize.”

“Probably just out for a meal.” Giovanni tugged on her waist and walked forward. “Tesoro, nothing to worry about. Let’s say hello, then we’ll join you, Matt. Thank you for the notice.”

“No problem. He nodded at me. Recognized me, so I’m sure he’s expecting you.”

“Oh my, Kirby,” Giovanni said. “Don’t tell me we’ve become predictable. I might have to fire you.”

“Eh.” Matt shrugged. “I’m not worried. Who else would keep the secret of your embarrassing pro-wrestling addiction?”