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"Of course you did," I reply, a grudging smile forming despite my determination to maintain distance. "Perhaps you can tell me all about it while I'll bend you over and fuck you on these… structures. The car will be ready in an hour."

***

Sunlight catches on ancient stone that has withstood centuries of war, weather, and human folly all around us. Crumbling columns reach toward the sky like abandoned prayers, while moss-covered pathways wind through what was once a thriving market town.

Romano drives our Range Rover, parking discreetly at the entrance before taking up position as both guide and security.

We've timed our visit carefully. Midweek, off-season. Ensuring minimal tourists. Minimal threats.

Francesca walks around the site, fingers trailing lightly over weathered stone, her academic knowledge bringing the empty spaces to life as she tells me all about it with great passion.

"This would have been the forum," she explains, gesturing to a wide central area that's drenched in warm sunlight. "The heart of civic life. Commerce, politics, justice… all of it would have been conducted in this space."

I find myself watching her more than the ruins, captivated by her animation, the intelligence lighting her features as she reconstructs ancient lives from dust and stone.

"I can't believe I've been here a week and you're only just bringing me here. I trust that you've been here before?" she asks, noticing my lack of surprise at the layout.

"Too many times. My mother brought Luca and me during summers." The admission slips out before I can censor it. Now I've caught Francesca's attention, she nudges me to continue. "We would play gladiators among the columns while she sketched."

Francesca's expression softens. "Don't take this the wrong way… but I struggle to see you and Luca were ever close enough to play nice."

What feels like a dagger twists in my chest. A specific pain I normally refuse to acknowledge, despite it's permanent presence.

"Wewerebrothers. Real brothers… back then. Before our father shaped us into rivals."

I walk toward a fallen column, memories rising seemingly from the ground.

"Luca was always the strategic one, even in childhood play. He'd plan elaborate campaigns, mapping the ruins into territories, developing battle plans." A reluctant smile forms. "Me? I was more direct. I'd just charge in and overpower him."

She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Some things never change."

"We used to talk about emperors," I continue, surprising myself with these confessions. "Luca admiredAugustus—the diplomat, the reformer. I preferredTiberius—effective, feared, powerful."

"And yet both of them were ultimately destroyed by the very power they coveted," she adds quietly. "That's the tragedy of Rome. Each emperor believed they could master power without being corrupted by it."

Her observation strikes too close to truths I don't wish to examine. I move away, toward the remains of a temple at the site's far edge.

"You sound like my mother now," I say, the words sharp as they leave my mouth. "She believed power was a poison. That it destroyed everything good in those who held it."

"Was she wrong?"

I turn to face her, irritation flaring. "She was weak. Her beliefs got her killed."

"Or perhaps she understood something you're still learning," Francesca challenges, stepping closer. "That there are different kinds of strength. Different types of power."

Before I can respond, Romano appears at the pathway's entrance, his expression tense and demanding my attention.

"Signore, we should return to the car. I noticed suspicious movement near the southern entrance."

Instinct sharpens my senses immediately. "How many?"

"At least four men. They arrived together but separated upon entering." Romano's hand moves discreetly to the weapon beneath his jacket. "And sir, they do not move like tourists."

I nod, looking around at my options. The ruins offer both cover and vulnerability. There are too many approach angles, but also multiple escape routes.

It's a fucking maze.

"We must leave. Now," I decide, taking Francesca's arm. "Stay close. If something happens, you run for the car. Don't look back."