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And he means it. Our room is the penthouse suite on the top floor, with incredible views of the city. I can even see the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. It’s beautiful.
“Are you hungry?” Nero asks, as the concierge leaves us alone. Our bags have already been set by the door, and there’s a luxurious bedroom just off the living area, with a canopied four-poster bed.
His arms wrap around me from behind, and I smile, snuggling back against him. “Depends what for…” I tease, and he rumbles with a laugh. His hands skim lower, suggestive, but I pull away. We could easily spend all weekend in bed, but I’m itching to get out and explore. “What do you want to see first?” I ask, reaching for the tourist guides stacked on the bureau. “We could go to Fisherman’s Wharf, or the Trocadero, or just walk around…”
“I have a couple of ideas.” Nero gives a mysterious smile. “Have you heard of a museum called The Legion of Honor?”
“Are you kidding?” I exclaim. “They have an amazing collection of Rodin sculptures. The biggest outside France.”
“I figured, since I can’t take you to Paris just yet, Paris will just have to come to us.”
I trade jackets, and grab my purse, and I’m all set to go. We head back down to the lobby, and as Nero guides me out of the door, he nestles his hand on the small of my back. I notice that he’s doing that more and more, little public displays of affection that make my heart sing, and by the time we reach the museum, his hand is intertwined in mine.
I look around. The museum is set on a clifftop, overlooking the bay, with an incredible sculpture garden and all kinds of amazing exhibitions.
“Where first?” Nero asks. “You’re the expert.”
“I don’t know where to begin!” I laugh, overwhelmed with the choices. For an art lover, this is just about heaven.
“How about we start here, and work our way around?” he suggests, nodding to the nearest room.
“Sounds like a plan!”
We take our time, strolling among the exhibits, and it doesn’t take long before I’m swept up in the beauty of the art around us. At first, I’m worried that Nero will be bored, but he seems happy to listen as I pour over the guide booklet and linger by my favorite works. I spend a long time in the Hall of Antiquities, checking out ancient works from Egypt, Greece, and Rome. But it’s the collection of European art that really blows me away. Much of it is from France, which is why they have such a large Rodin collection. But there’s more than sculpture. As much as I enjoy the three-dimensional art, I’m drawn to the paintings above all else.
I can only hope to someday create such amazing pieces that are worthy of hanging in a museum. Nero is silent beside me, and I can’t stop giving him sidelong glances out of the corner of my eye. He seems to be just as interested in the artwork as I am, and his hand is warm against mine.
The museum is busy with tourists and other visitors, and it’s easy to pretend we’re just like them: No drama, no mafia threats, no FBI on our trail, just a pair of ordinary newlyweds, taking in the sights.
In my fantasy, the only potential problems in our new marriage are little things, like disagreements about where to go for dinner or what color to paint the bedroom. Prison, death, blood feuds… They couldn’t be more far away.
It’s a nice fantasy, and I wish it could last forever, but eventually, Nero glances at his phone.
“I should really check in,” he says, sounding apologetic. “Make sure Chase hasn’t burned the place down in my absence.”
I nod. “Take your time,” I tell him, not worried. After all, we’re on the other side of the country, and whatever is going down in New York couldn’t be more far away. “I have plenty to look at!”
“I’ll be right back.”
Nero heads outside to make his call, and I continue to browse the displays. It’s truly absorbing here, and I’m not sure how much time passes before I realize that Nero has been gone for a long time. I figure he’s lost track of me in the rabbit-warren hallways, so I retrace my steps, and head outside in the direction I saw him last.
And then I spot him, half-hidden deep in the sculpture garden, talking to an older man I’ve never seen before.
But it’s clear, the two of them know each other. Reading their body language, I can tell this isn’t a casual conversation. Nero is frowning, focused and alert, and while his body is facing the stranger, he’s kept enough space between them to tell me that he doesn’t fully trust the guy.
Something’s going on. Something serious.
But how the hell did anyone find us here, of all places?
Unless…
This was Nero’s plan all along. His reason for this romantic getaway—not to spend time with me, but to stage this secret meeting, away from the prying eyes of the FBI back in New York.
I just stand there, simmering with rage as I watch Nero talk, his expression stern. I’m not going to let this go. He’s up to something, despite telling me that this trip was for us. For me.
Finally, the two of them part with a handshake. The man passes me, heading back inside, and gives me a brief nod as he goes. Then Nero sees me. He looks startled for a second before his face goes stoic and he walks over.
I fold my arms. The easy happiness I felt before is gone now. The outside world is back, with all its drama and betrayal.
“So,” I say, not bothering to hide my anger. “Do you want to tell me why we’re really here?”
