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J ulia perched on the Vespa’s padded seat, clutching Gianluca’s quilted jacket as they took off, whizzing past the Palazzo Vecchio.

She didn’t know why Ballcap was following her, but she couldn’t think at speed.

Her hair whipped around, and her teeth clenched as they bobbled over cobblestones through the historic center of Florence, cars zipping everywhere.

They wound through medieval streets, crossed a sunny piazza lined with statuary, then down streets with homes four and five stories high, with shops on the first floor.

They slowed as they approached an elegant brownstone with Italian and EU flags flying from its facade.

Its grand mahogany door had a large brass plaque that read BIBLIOTECA MARUCELLIANA .

Gianluca stopped in front, cut the engine, and braced the Vespa. “We’re here.”

Julia got off and raked her hair into place. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you were bothered.” Gianluca’s eyes were a concerned brown, and his smile warm. “This is my hometown, and I’m unhappy when Florentines misbehave. What happened in the Uffizi?”

“Uh, it was nothing.” Julia wanted to change the subject. “So this is your library?”

“Yes.” Gianluca hoisted the bike to the entrance, putting down the kickstand. “I’m Director, a euphemism for Head Geek.”

Julia smiled. “Your English is perfect.”

“My mom’s from San Francisco.” Gianluca gestured at the door.

“Would you like to see inside? Marucelliana isn’t a tourist destination, but it should be.

We have forty thousand volumes, not including rare manuscripts, letters, documents, and books.

You can look around, get something to drink, and call your friend. ”

“Okay, thanks,” Julia answered after a moment. She felt better off the street, and he seemed nice. Plus, a librarian.

“Cool. This way.” Gianluca led her inside and up a beautiful marble staircase that wound around in several landings, complete with marble benches and ornate statuary.

He gestured proudly as they ascended. “Marucelliana was built in 1752, as part of a bequest to ensure that Florentines had access to literature. By law, every book published in the city must be deposited here. Yet we’re not institutional like the National Library.

That’s where I was when you ran into me. Literally.”

“Again, I’m sorry.”

“I’m joking. Here, this way.” Gianluca stepped aside when they reached the second floor, admitting her to a generic reception area with fluorescent lighting, orange walls, and a long wooden desk with a plastic shield.

A young female librarian looked up with a smile. “ Ciao , Gianluca.”

“ Ciao , Betta. Don’t mind me, I’m redeeming our city.”

The librarian laughed, returning to her book, and Gianluca showed Julia into a cramped, dark corridor that felt oddly like a secret passageway and ended in a small door of green metal, curved like a coffin.

Gianluca stopped. “It’s a weird door, right?”

“Right.”

“Wait for it.” Gianluca opened the door with a flourish, and Julia was amazed that it led to a vast, majestic room with a high, vaulted ceiling like a cathedral.

Books encased in polished mahogany shelves lined all sides, extending from the floor to the ceiling, two stories high.

The second floor of books was accessed by a balcony with brass ladders every four or five shelves.

Mahogany tables spanned the length of the immense room, with graceful old-fashioned brass lamps and a row of chairs on each side.

Massive arched windows were embedded in vaults of cream-colored plaster.

Filtered sunlight fell on a handful of young men and women working silently, their books and laptops open.

The air smelled like old wood and even older paper.

There was total silence, stillness, and calm, which Julia breathed in like oxygen.

“My God,” she said under her breath.

“Follow me.” Gianluca led her through the library, and she followed him into a narrow hallway that ended in a T, going left and right.

The room on the left had a display of plaques and articles in a glass case, but Gianluca was heading to the room on the right.

SALA RISERVATA , read its sign, and there was a velvet cordon, which he unclipped.

Julia felt like she’d been admitted to the inner sanctum.

No one else was inside, and the room was small and dim, with a low ceiling of exposed unvarnished rafters.

Old books lined the room, their leather bindings in dark reds, blues, greens, and tans.

The balcony was wooden with an elaborately carved balustrade and library ladders.

There were several mahogany tables and lamps with details in wrought iron, aglow against the wood’s rich, dark grain.

“This is our rare book room, my favorite place in the world.” Gianluca smiled in the gentle lighting, and Julia realized that he was handsome, his eyes the hue of espresso, with long lashes, and a mouth that looked soft.

She hadn’t stood this close to any man since Mike, which threw her off-balance.

“Uh, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. I make excuses to come here, including boring hapless visitors. Well, thus ends library tour. Two whole rooms. We aim for quality, not quantity.” Gianluca straightened. “Would you like a lemonade? We can have some in the garden.”

“A garden?” Julia asked, surprised. “In a library ?”

Julia sat at a round table amid a small, enclosed garden.

Red geraniums, pink cosmos, and fresh green palms in terra-cotta pots lined the space, and white star jasmine like living stars covered the walls, giving off sweet fragrance.

Sunshine flooded the space, but the table had a green canvas umbrella for shade.

The garden’s far wall was a modern brick addition that held staff offices, and Gianluca had gone inside.

Its square windows were cranked open, and the sounds of rapid Italian wafted from inside.

Julia took the opportunity to get her phone and check the selfies she’d taken outside the Uffizi, with Ballcap in the background.

She scrolled through, but her heart sank.

Ballcap’s back was turned away in them, so she couldn’t see his face or identify him.

She sensed it was intentional, in that he didn’t want her to photograph him.

Just then her phone pinged with a text. It was from Piero.

OK? Piero texted.

Yes , she texted back, then sent him the name of the library.

15 , Piero texted, which she assumed meant fifteen minutes.

Gianluca emerged with glasses of lemonade, setting one in front of her and sitting opposite. “Here we go.”

“Thank you.” Julia took a sip, which tasted great. “Delicious.”

“Good. So perhaps Florentines who follow a beautiful woman can be forgotten. I hope your husband would agree with me.”

Julia paused. “My husband… passed away.”

Gianluca grimaced. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive my rudeness.”

“It wasn’t rude, it’s okay.” Julia realized it was because of her rings, but didn’t know when she’d ever take them off.

“Are you in Florence alone then?”

“Yes.”

“How long for?”

“A week or so.”

“On business?”

“No.” Julia wasn’t sure how much to tell him. “Long story short, I’ve inherited some property.”

“Where?”

“Outside of Croce.”

“A small village, very pretty. But I’m sorry about your loss.”

“Oh, thank you.” Julia realized he meant whoever had left her the inheritance, but she decided to be honest. Talking with him felt familiar because he sounded American, and she could use a friend.

“Weirdly, I don’t know if I’m related to the woman I inherited from because I’m adopted. I have to figure it out.”

Gianluca lifted a dark eyebrow. “That’s mysterious.”

“I met with an investigator to do a family search, but I need to find a better one.”

“I can help.”

“How?” Julia asked, surprised. “Do you have a directory or something?”

“Librarianship is about information, not books.” Gianluca slid his phone from his pocket and started thumbing. “Tell me about your benefactor.”

“Well, her name was Emilia Rossi and she claimed to be a descendant of Caterina Sforza.”

“Amazing!” Gianluca’s eyes flared as he scrolled. “Caterina’s one of my favorite characters in history.”

“You know about her?”

“Of course. She’s a rock star.” Gianluca spoke without looking up, typing into his phone.

“Caterina was called a virago , which means a ‘churlish woman.’ Bold, brave, but ungovernable. She was the only woman ruler during the Renaissance, and very beautiful. The Borgias tried to kill her, so did the Medicis. Men were crazy for her when they weren’t trying to conquer her.

” Gianluca smiled crookedly. “Some things never change, eh?”

Julia smiled, liking his sense of humor.

Gianluca paused, reading his phone. “I found a few investigators, but most do divorce or paternity matters. There’s one who sounds good for family searches, a Tancredi Ferrucci. Let me have your number, and I’ll text you his information.”

“Thank you.” Julia told him her number, and Gianluca plugged it into his phone.

“As for Caterina Sforza, we do have a book or two about her in English. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, if it’s no trouble.”

“Not at all.” Gianluca was already on his feet. He left the garden and returned quickly with a large book bound in blue cloth. “Here we go.”

“Perfect timing. My ride will be here soon.”

“Good. I could only find the one book. Other portraits of Caterina don’t do her justice, but I like this one by Lorenzo di Credi in 1487.” Gianluca set the book down, opening it to a glossy portrait. “You see, she was beautiful.”

Julia recoiled, caught unawares. She hadn’t realized Gianluca was going to bring a portrait, and it showed Caterina facing right, her eyes a blue that made Julia flash on the blue eyes from the ceiling fresco, chasing her into the vineyard. She masked her reaction while he continued talking.

“Her coloring is northern Italian. She was Milanese, the seat of Sforza power, but she’s an integral part of Florentine history. Her first marriage was to Girolamo Riario, and they ruled a town called Forlì. If you ever get to see it, it tells you so much about her.”

Julia couldn’t deny that Caterina’s coloring was like Rossi’s and even her own. “Is Forlì far?”

“No, about two hours from Croce, in Emilia-Romagna.”

“I wonder if they have tours of her castle.”

“No, only a self-tour. I could take you and show you around. Tomorrow’s my day off, if you’re free. I swear, I’m not hitting on you.” Gianluca crossed himself. “I’m just redeeming my fellow Florentines.”

Julia smiled. In truth, she’d love to see that castle, and Gianluca seemed to know a lot about the subject. “Okay, thanks. I’d like to go, but not on the Vespa, right?”

“Totally, it’s my sister’s and I only use it in town.” Gianluca closed the book. “I can pick you up tomorrow morning at ten. If we want to visit both locations, it’ll take the day. I suggest we get an early start.”

“Okay.”

“Good, it’s a plan.” Gianluca tucked the book under his arm. “Let me show you out through our offices. There’s a group of graduate students in the library, and I don’t want to disturb.”

“Okay.” Julia followed him into the modern wing and a hallway lined with antique maps of Florence. They passed several offices, where women looked up from behind the desks. They craned their necks at her, and Julia got the impression that Gianluca was the library hottie.

“This is my office.” Gianluca stopped at an open door, and Julia peeked inside.

His office struck her as cool, if happily cluttered.

There was a big window behind his desk, and its large sill held an array of plants.

Books lined both sides, and one wall held a large charcoal sketch of the library’s main room, remarkable in its detail.

“That’s a great drawing.”

“Thank you.”

“You drew it?” Julia asked, impressed.

“Yes. Here, everybody’s an artist or thinks they are. I’m the latter.” Gianluca smiled. “So have I redeemed my countrymen?”

“Yes,” Julia answered, smiling back.

“Sons of Florence, I am your champion!”

Julia called the new investigator from the car, but he didn’t answer.

She left a voicemail, asking him to call back.

She put down the phone and looked outside the window, relieved to leave Florence behind.

She couldn’t imagine why the man in the black ballcap had been following her, and she doubted she’d see him again.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept more than a few hours. “I’m tired,” she said to herself.

Piero motioned to her to recline the seat.

“Thanks,” Julia said, happy to obey.

But when she woke up, it was dark.