Page 75 of A Dangerous Bargain

When Lupa dips toward it, I gasp. “No no no no no, you can’t leave us there!”

Her feet land on the tower’s flat bottom. She lets go of us. I scream and grab one of its marble pillars. There’s no railing. Of course there’s no stupid railing. Why would anyone want a railing around the pinnacle of the entire damn city?

Lupa crosses her arms. Her wings flare, sparks scattering. “I won’t be back until you tell him the truth.”

The blood rushes from my face. “The truth… about what?”

She can’t mean that I’ve fallen for him, right? Because I was planning on doing that in a note. One Giovannia will find among my things when I’m dead. Lupa’s rushing me, and I don’t like it.

Lupa draws a finger across her throat with a raised brow. “Why you really left the workshop. He deserves to know the truth.”

Oh. That. “I can’t.”

It’ll devastate him. There’s no reason for him to know. It doesn’t change anything.

She cocks her head and smirks. “Then good luck getting yourself down.”

And she steps backward off the ledge.

Leaving me alone at the city’s peak to talk about the very last thing I want to discuss with the last person I want to tell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Tell me about what?” Leonardo says. Then he gasps, darting to the terrifying edge of the tower so suddenly, I scream, certain I’ll see him dashed to his death on the greatest architectural marvel in the world, but no, he just points to the rooflines with an expression of absolute wonder. “Look at it!”

The city spreads beneath us, a softly lit maze of shadows studded with pinpricks of light. Beyond the arc of the city walls rise hills, undulating through the distance until they go black against the backdrop of the stars. Clouds blot out the sky to the southwest. A storm is coming.

Leonardo’s fingers flex, as if clutching a charcoal stick, as if when confronted with such a stunning view, he can’t help but try to capture it for later.

The sight makes me ache. No matter what else is happening, he’s always so… him.

“Florence looks good from up here. Smells quite a bit better too.”

Leonardo cackles, and I bite back a smile. When did his laugh become my favorite sound? I know I’m the one who should be answering his question, but I have one of my own. “Why were you there tonight?”

His fingers still trace soft patterns of nothing. “You’re very predictable.” He pauses, shooting me a knowing glare. “You’ve never listened to another soul in your entire life. I knew you’d find a way into the Medici wedding, and I knew whatever disaster happened, it’d be best if I was there too.”

My heart is a cracked pane of glass. One touch would shatter me. “You came for me? Even after I was awful to you?”

He stops sketching the skyline. He won’t quite look at me. “Of course, Virgil. I just wish you’d let me be there from the beginning. You promised me you wouldn’t see your brother alone.”

I cup his jaw, gently turning him toward me. He blinks, face softening even as his gaze grows darker, more intense. He places one of those long, elegant hands over mine, pressing my skin closer to his.

“I did want you there,” I confess. “But I don’t always know how to let people be there.”

He tilts his head, pressing his lips to my palm. A butterfly-soft kiss. “I know, tesoro. That’s why I found you.”

The gentleness of those words! I don’t know if I want to kiss him back or sit down and cry.

He makes a sound, a murmur not quite my name, and then both his hands go to my face, tracing tender paths of fire. “We figured it out. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

An exquisite pain spikes through me. I saw him every day for four years. We ate meals together, painted together, sat through mass together. I know the sound of his footsteps and the shape of his shadow. I would hear his voice in any crowd. How could I not have known what he meant to me for so long? I was spoiled with an abundance of him and didn’t know it.

I would do anything to live through one of those mundane moments again. It all feels different now, pastel-toned and fragile.

I didn’t know what I had until it was too late.

“Why are you crying?” He brushes the tears away, featherlight and tentative.