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do?”
    “I have a large house in Rome, an estate outside Florence, and a smaller flat in Milan. Didn’t I tell you that?”
    “Anything else?”
    “That’s all that I have in Italy. I have a few other places scattered around Europe.”
    Beatrice paused. “Was that on your husband profile right under your ability to burn pasta? Because, I’ll be honest, anything after the description of your sexual skills I just skipped over.”
    He burst out laughing and tossed a hand towel at her. It hit her in the face.
    “Hey!” She flicked her fingers and a spray of water crossed the room, soaking him.
    “Thanks for that.” He stripped off the wet shirt.
    “Aha! My devious plan worked; you’re naked again.” She grabbed his hand as he walked past and pulled him into the tub.
    “Tesoro?”
    “Yes?”
    “Are we going to accomplish anything tonight?”
    “Probably not.”
     
     
    Hours later, he managed to pull himself away when Ben resorted to calling their room, threatening to steal the car to drive himself to practice. Though Giovanni was agreeable to that scenario, Beatrice was not. She muttered something about “stupid teenage drivers” as she pulled on her practice clothes and left the room, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder.
    He wandered down to the library on the first floor, where he had shipped most of his uncle’s collection of books, letters, and artwork. He had expanded the original library during the year they had been in Chile and added a pool house, as well. All the windows had lightproof shutters, which allowed Beatrice to have use of most of the house during the day. He had spared no expense making sure their home suited his wife’s somewhat unusual needs.
    Just as he was sitting down with a collection of letters between Girolamo Benivieni and his uncle, Giovanni Pico, the phone rang. Looking at the clock, he realized it was probably Carwyn calling before dawn.
    Giovanni picked up the phone. “Hello, Father.”
    “That would have been awkward if it was Livia.”
    “You know she never uses the phone. She can barely stand using the postal service instead of uniformed messenger.”
    “And yet she does love her fancy lights and indoor plumbing.”
    “No one can ever claim she was anything but an aristocrat.”
    “So, speaking of your mummy—”
    “Please, don’t call her that,” he said with a wince. Carwyn only chuckled. “Ever. I’m serious.”
    “Fine. Speaking of the Roman she-devil, when will you be there?”
    He rolled his eyes. Carwyn had always had a clear disdain for anything having to do with Rome. The Welshman barely put up with his own friends at the Vatican, who had known about the priest’s existence for centuries, and he delighted in making snide remarks about the arrogance of ecclesiastical and military empires.
    “We’ll be there at the beginning of May. Will you be joining us?”
    “Will Tenzin be there? And the boy?”
    “Of course.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the party. I’ll see you there. I could use a visit with a few people in red bathrobes anyway.”
    That was unexpected. Carwyn usually avoided Vatican City if possible. “Oh? Anything I need to know about?”
    “Just some... personal details. Collar-type things you’d have no interest in.”
    The priest was being uncharacteristically cagey, but Giovanni let it rest. He knew if his old friend wanted to share, he would. Carwyn had few secrets, but those he did have, he kept very close. Giovanni decided to change the subject.
    “How’s Deirdre?”
    Carwyn paused. “She’s doing well. As well as can be expected. She’s keeping busy. Has quite a few projects she’s juggling at the moment.”
    “Good.”
    “And how is your wife?”
    “Doing extremely well. She’s practicing with Ben and Tenzin tonight, though I believe she’ll be training with Baojia again in the near future.”
    “Oh, you must be thrilled.”
    “I can... appreciate his usefulness.”
    Carwyn only laughed. “And