“Of course, I’m not an amateur.” His expression grew serious, and Elisabetta wondered if he was about to kiss her, but in the next minute he led her to the desk.
“You have to sit in my boss’s chair.” Marco pulled out the desk chair, which had shiny red leather cushions. “Here, sit and pretend you’re Commendatore Buonacorso.”
Elisabetta sat down at the glistening desk of polished wood, which was completely clear except for two telephones, a fancy enameled pen set, and a golden clock.
“Give me an order, as my boss.” Marco sat opposite her, pretending to take notes on an imaginary pad. “I’m ready to obey.”
Elisabetta giggled. “Okay. How about, Behave yourself.”
“No, never.” Marco pretended to throw his pad in the air, then jumped from the chair, came around the desk, and took her by the hand to the glass-paneled doors, which he opened into a balcony that wrapped around the outside of the building, overlooking Piazza Navona. “Follow me.”
“Marco, really?” Elisabetta balked on the threshold. The balcony had a tiled floor and a wide balustrade of white marble, but it was so high up.
“Don’t be worried. The view from here is amazing. See?” Marco led her onto the balcony, and Elisabetta walked carefully to the balustrade and looked over its top. The people in the piazza below were small silhouettes around the three beautiful fountains, their green water aglow with decorative lights. The Egyptian obelisk rose in the center of the piazza, and the lamps shining up from its base brought out its bas-relief carvings. Magnificent four- and five-story buildings lined the piazza, each with restaurants on the first floor and outdoor seating areas. To her left was the massive Sant’Agnese in Agone church, with its ornate dome and flanking spires, glowing white as the moon in the dark night. Elisabetta felt as if Rome lay at her very feet.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Marco leaned forward and rested his forearms on the balustrade.
“It really is,” Elisabetta answered, breathless, either because of Marco or the experience he was giving her, she wasn’t sure, and it might not have mattered.
“I’m glad you’re here, cara.” Marco touched her arm, smiling up at her, and she could see in his handsome face the little boy he had been as well as the young man he had become, as he had been in front of her, all this time.
On impulse Elisabetta leaned over and kissed him, realizing too late that she wasn’t sure how to initiate a kiss. She simply put her mouth on Marco’s, and his mouth felt suddenly like her own, warm and soft and slightly open, so that she could inhale his very breath. She felt transported, to where she didn’t know, and again, it didn’t seem to matter, but it left her dizzy, then Marco came alive. He took her in his arms and kissed her with experience she could feel, as she knew he was no virgin, and the knowledge thrilled her. She followed his lead, kissing him back, and she felt an excitement she never had before, kissing this handsome man in this beautiful place somewhere above the magical, crazy, chaotic city that had given birth to them both.
“Trust me?” Marco murmured, releasing her from their embrace, and Elisabetta felt woozy, which she guessed must be something that happened with kissing.
“Yes, why?”
“Watch me.” Marco climbed onto the balustrade, then rose to a stand on top.
“Marco, no!” Elisabetta gasped, though Marco had been climbing things since they were children. There had been no fence he hadn’t wanted to scale, no low-hanging limb he hadn’t jumped up to tap. The top of the balustrade was wide enough to fit his feet side by side, but not much wider. He could fall to Piazza Navona if he wobbled, for nothing was behind him but the darkness of night, and above, the stars.
But Marco was smiling, the curve of his cheekbone illuminated by the ambient light. He held out his hand, his fingers extended. “Come up with me.”
“No, it’s dangerous!”
“Please?”
“No, I can’t.”
“It’s wide enough. You don’t even have to balance. I do it all the time.”
“You do? What does your boss say?”
“I don’t do it when he’s around, of course. Come on, climb up.”
“What does it feel like?” Elisabetta asked, stepping closer to him. Part of her wanted to experience the feeling, and part of her wanted to forget the whole thing or maybe kiss again.
“You have to find out for yourself.” Marco kept his hand open