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beside her, a good deal too close, watching her study the painting.
    “Do you like it?”
    “Yes, but I prefer Botticelli.” Stubbornly, she kept her eyes on the painting, hoping he would tire of standing closer to her and move away.
    (Preferably across the Arno.)
    “Are you a student of Professor Emerson’s?”
    Julia swallowed noisily. “No. I—I study with someone else.”
    “He is considered to be good by North American standards, which is why he was invited here. However, his lecture was an embarrassment. How did you come to discover Dante?”
    Julia was about to argue with Giuseppe about his characterization of the lecture, when he reached out to touch her hair.
    She flinched and immediately retreated, but his arms were long and his hand followed her. She opened her mouth to reprove him when someone growled nearby.
    Giuseppe and Julia turned their heads slowly to see Gabriel, sapphire eyes flashing, hands on hips, flaring out his open suit jacket like the plumes of an angry peacock.
    He took a menacing step closer.
    “I see you’ve met my fidanzata . I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, unless you’re prepared to lose them.”
    Giuseppe scowled before his face smoothed out into a polite smile. “We’ve been speaking for several minutes. She never mentioned you.”
    Julia didn’t wait for Gabriel to rip Giuseppe’s arms from his sockets, thus sullying the Uffizi’s pristine floors with his blood. Instead, she stood between the two men and placed a hand on Gabriel’s chest.
    “Gabriel, this is Professor Pacciani. He’s also a Dante specialist.”
    A look passed between the two men, and Julia realized that Pacciani was the man who’d rudely interrupted Gabriel’s lecture by muttering and coughing.
    He lifted his hands in mock surrender.
    “A thousand apologies. I should have realized from the way you looked at her during your…speech that she was yours. Forgive me, Simonetta.” His eyes moved to hers and rested there, his mouth parting in a sneer.
    At the sound of his sarcasm, Gabriel took a step closer, his fists clenched.
    “Darling, I need to find somewhere to put my glass.” Julia shook her empty champagne flute, hoping it would distract him.
    Gabriel took the glass and handed it to Pacciani. “I’m sure you know where to put this.”
    He grabbed Julia’s hand and quickly pulled her away. The guests parted like the Red Sea in front of them as they made their way through the Botticelli room.
    Julia saw person after person stare at them and she blushed even more deeply.
    “Where are we going?”
    He led her into the adjoining tiled corridor and began walking toward the end of it, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positioned her between two large marble statues perched high atop plinths. She was dwarfed by the towering forms.
    He grabbed her purse and tossed it aside. The sound of the leather hitting the floor echoed down the corridor.
    “What were you doing with him?” Gabriel’s eyes flamed, and his cheeks were slightly red, which for him was a rare occurrence.
    “We were just making small talk before he—”
    Gabriel pulled her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other sliding down her dress. The force of the contact propelled her until she felt the cold wall of the Gallery against the naked skin of her upper back. His hard body aligned with hers forcefully.
    “I don’t want to see another man’s hands on you again.”
    He parted her mouth roughly, penetrating with his tongue, while his hand slid over the curve of her backside, massaging the flesh with his fingers.
    Julia realized instantly that he’d been careful with her every other time he’d touched her. He wasn’t careful now. Part of her was inflamed, desperate for him. Another part of her was wondering what he would do if she said stop…
    He lifted her left leg, pulling her thigh around his hip and pressing against her.
    She felt him through the fabric