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I ’m sorry,” Julia said, embarrassed. She sipped a glass of ice water, recovering her composure on Gianluca’s black leather couch.

His living room was lined with books and framed sketches, and its walls were a dark red.

Tensor lamps on the end tables were matte black, creating a darkly dramatic interior.

Two windows overlooked the Florentine night.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Gianluca sat on an ottoman opposite her, concerned. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks,” Julia answered, though it was only partly true. “I guess I had a panic attack.”

“Why? What caused it?”

“Those men, their hoodies…” Julia couldn’t finish the sentence.

“They were Swedish tourists. Drunk.”

“But they had blue hoodies, all of them, and that color, like cobalt…”

“It’s the color of Italy’s football team. Or, as you say, soccer. Our team is the Azure Blues, Gli Azzuri .”

What? “You mean it’s team gear ?”

“Yes, the national soccer team. Everybody has one.”

Julia tried to understand. “The man who killed my husband wore the exact same hoodie.”

“He did?”

“Yes.” Julia sipped her water. “Why would a murderer in Philly have one of those hoodies?”

“I don’t know.” Gianluca frowned, puzzled. “Does it matter?”

“It’s unusual at home. I’ve seen dozens of Eagles, Phillies, and Flyers hoodies, but I’ve never once seen one of those blue sweatshirts, except on that night.”

“So do you think the man who killed your husband was Italian?”

“Maybe, yes, or has been here. It might not mean anything, but still.” Julia tried to wrap her mind around the revelation, and her thoughts began to clarify. “What if Mike’s murder is connected to Italy?”

Gianluca mulled it over. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Julia blinked, mystified.

“The only thing that I can think of is my inheritance. I wonder if Mike’s murder has something to do with the inheritance.

” She heard herself say it, realizing it was a distinct possibility.

“I didn’t think those things were connected, but what if they are? ”

“How could they be?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Julia couldn’t deny the sense she got inside, maybe it was her intuition, so she went with it.

“But these are the two biggest events in my life, my husband’s murder and my inheritance, one horrible and one wonderful, and they happened only about six months apart. Maybe they’re related to each other.”

“What about through Rossi?”

“What do you mean?” Julia asked, glad of a sounding board.

“Well, you found the underground cell. A little girl was caged there, whether Rossi’s daughter or someone else’s. You were worried Rossi could even be a kidnapper.”

“Right, so?”

“What if Rossi was in a kidnapping or a trafficking ring? She could have been working with others. She’s dead, but she may have coconspirators who are alive.”

“A conspiracy.” Julia shuddered, trying to imagine it. “She goes out at night to look for children. No kid would be afraid of her because she’s an older, wealthy woman. She drives a cool car to lure them. But where do you find children out at night, in the countryside?”

“You find them where you live, in the poorer towns around Croce. There’s kids who work in the vineyards, all year round. Migrant children, Albanians, Ethiopians, Kosovans.” Gianluca met her eye grimly. “It’s the side of Tuscany tourists don’t see.”

“But what does that have to do with the man who killed Mike?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have enough facts.” Gianluca leaned forward. “Begin at the beginning, would you? What happened that night? Can you tell me or will it upset you?”

“I can.” Julia bore down, despite her emotion. “We came around the corner. The man reached for my purse. Mike stepped in to protect me.”

“Did the man have an Italian accent?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything.” Julia thought a minute. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t speak. He didn’t want us to hear his accent was Italian. In retrospect, it’s weird that he didn’t say anything, not even ‘Give me your purse.’”

“So you think it was your purse he was after? But what if it was you?” Gianluca cocked his curly head. “What if he wanted to kill you ?”

“You mean he was only making it look like a purse-snatching? Why?”

“What if it’s connected to your inheritance? Maybe he attacked you to prevent you from getting the money and—”

“What about the villa ?” Julia interrupted, as it struck her, horrified. “Maybe they didn’t want me to get the villa because I’d find the underground cell. Maybe they were trying to prevent me from finding evidence of their wrongdoing.”

“Yes, that could be it.” Gianluca nodded excitedly. “If you hadn’t come over and started digging, no one would have found the cell.”

Julia felt her stomach turn over. “And they used Rossi’s villa to imprison their victims.”

“And they don’t want to get found out. So when they find out you’re inheriting the villa, they try to stop you by killing you.”

Julia recoiled. “That’s extreme.”

“The crime is extreme.”

“How would they even know about the inheritance?”

“Rossi could have told them. Maybe she was close to one of them, maybe he was even a lover.”

Julia tried to wrap her mind around it. “Do you think Rossi would be okay with killing me, if she’s my biological grandmother?”

“Or, she may not have known. Maybe they kept it from her or double-crossed her.” Gianluca shrugged. “In truth, they didn’t need to kill you. Even if they only injured you, you probably wouldn’t have come over. You’d have sold the villa, and nobody would’ve been the wiser.”

Julia shook her head. “Wait. No, the theory doesn’t work. If Rossi is part of a conspiracy, why would she leave me the villa in the first place? She’d be putting incriminating evidence in my hands.”

“Unless she didn’t think you’d find the cell.”

“And I wouldn’t have, if not for Caterina.

” Julia’s imagination began to run away with her, but she let it fly.

“Maybe that’s why Caterina was trying to show me.

Maybe that’s why she stepped up. Maybe she wants justice for those children, whether the girl’s my mother or not.

Caterina was a devoted mother herself. She stepped up to save her children and her town. ”

“Right.” Gianluca smiled, then paused. “But there are two other possibilities. The first one is Rossi wanted you to find the underground cell, so that you would call the police.”

“You mean she turned on her coconspirators?”

“Yes, and it worked. You found it and you called the police.”

“Why would she turn on them?”

“Maybe she repented as she got older. She could have wanted them to be brought to justice, as redemption.”

“Like she regretted what she’d done when she knew she was dying? She regretted being a total monster of a person?” Julia was still disgusted. “It’s too little, too late, if you ask me. You didn’t see that dungeon. I would have been terrified to be in there. I was terrified to be in there.”

“I know, and there’s one other possibility, which is sadly consistent with Rossi.” Gianluca hesitated. “By leaving you the inheritance, she gets you over here and puts you in jeopardy. What if she wanted you dead?”

“Yikes!” Julia grimaced, shocked. “Why? She doesn’t even know me!”

“She knew something about you. She found you, didn’t she? She had your address, she left you the inheritance.”

“She wanted me dead ?” Julia felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry, but it’s possible. She was paranoid, delusional, maybe even homicidal.”

Julia swallowed hard. “But why me?”

“I don’t know.”

Julia slumped on the couch, exhaling. “Oh man. This is a lot.”

Gianluca smiled gently. “Is my Ferrari finally out of gas?”

Julia smiled back. “I’m no Ferrari.”

“Yes, you are.” Gianluca straightened. “You should call Marshal Torti in the morning. Tell him your inheritance may be connected to your husband’s murder.”

“Yes, right.” Julia finished the water and set the glass on a coaster. “I’ll call the Philly police, too. They can investigate suspects from Italy. There must be a database like that, somewhere.”

“Of course. But I think that’s as far as we can take it tonight. You made progress and you should be proud of yourself.” Gianluca smiled at her. “I don’t think you should drive home. You can’t be on the road the way you are.”

Julia felt fatigue wash over her, but it was awkward. “I’ll be fine.”

“Please, stay.” Gianluca put up his palms. “I’ll sleep on the sofa, you sleep in my bed.”

“I’ll stay, but I’ll take the sofa.”

“No, I insist. Chivalry is not dead here, my dear.”

The bedroom was small, containing a double bed, a night table, and a set of shelves with books, drawing paper, and art supplies. Moonlight filtered through a thin curtain, moving in a soft breeze.

Julia tossed and turned, trying to sleep.

She felt too warm under the coverlet, even in a camisole and panties.

She didn’t want to sleep naked with Gianluca in the next room, and she couldn’t stop wondering if Mike’s murder had anything to do with her inheritance.

If there was a connection, it horrified her, and she felt even more guilty for his murder.

Someone had been trying to kill her, but had killed him instead.

Tears filled Julia’s eyes. She stifled them, trying not to cry so Gianluca wouldn’t overhear. It still felt unreal that she was in his apartment, in his bed, and she realized that before her panic attack, he had told her he loved her.

The thought filled her with happiness, and she realized she had feelings for him too, but she couldn’t acknowledge them without guilt. She buried her face in the pillow, missing Mike and wanting Gianluca at the same time, both desires powerful, yet impossible to reconcile.

She couldn’t stop the tears then, and she began to cry in a way she hadn’t in a long time, then groped around for tissues on a night table stacked with books.

“Here,” Gianluca said softly, appearing behind her on the bed. He held out a box of Kleenex, so she tore one out and held it to her face.

“Don’t look, I’m crying,” Julia sobbed. “I don’t just ugly cry, I snotty cry.”

“I can’t see anyway, it’s dark—”

“Stay back there.” Julia wiped her eyes. “I really mean it.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Julia wept, grabbing another Kleenex. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry,” Gianluca said, his voice comforting as Julia blew her nose and wiped her eyes, then went through the first Kleenex and a second, and before she realized what was happening, Gianluca had put his arms around her from behind, holding her gently. “This okay, to hold you?”

“Yes,” was all Julia could say, heartbroken, embarrassed, and exhausted.

“Let the tears come, they will pass.”

“I don’t know if they will,” Julia said, giving voice to her greatest fear, which she hadn’t realized until this very moment, that she would never stop mourning Mike, that she would never rejoin life, that she didn’t deserve to, that her husband died because of her and she had no right to go on.

She realized she had been looking over her shoulder ever since the night Mike was killed, and the man following her was him .

“Julia, it will pass, but you have to let it come. If you don’t let it come, it never goes away. Your heart is broken, and it will heal.”

“You think?” Julia mopped her eyes.

“I know. My heart healed, and I love you.”

Julia felt a rush of emotion. “How? You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough.” Gianluca paused in the darkness. “I realize it’s soon, but I know it happened. I know myself, and I think that you might have feelings for me, too, if you allow them to come.”

“They can’t, they shouldn’t.”

“They can and they will. The thing about a broken heart is that it’s open.”

Julia felt his words reach her. She did feel both brokenhearted and openhearted at the same time, and she loved that he brought her to that insight.

“Ever since I met you, I find myself thinking about you, remembering things you said, or how you looked at Forlì, or how you laughed at the racetrack. How it feels to have your arms around my waist on the bike.” Gianluca’s voice sounded tender as a wound in the darkness.

“I’ve never felt this way before, loved so intensely so quickly, with such certainty, knowing it’s absolutely right in my soul . ”

My God. Julia felt moved, but still. “What if I can’t love you back? I mean, I’m wearing my wedding ring.”

“You can wear it forever if you want to, I understand. I’ll wait to see if you can have feelings for me, and until then, let my love heal you,” Gianluca said tenderly, holding her closer, and Julia found herself turning in his arms, facing him, and in the next moment, he was kissing her face and pulling her close to his bare chest. Her mouth found his, warm and soft and giving, and she felt herself lost in his kiss, the warmth of his skin, the strength in his body, this living, breathing man, who loved her.

And somewhere in this medieval city, out of time and place, Julia opened her broken heart.