The Raven (The Florentine #1)(126)

Chapter Fifty-four

After her birthday party, July fifth, Raven returned to her apartment late at night.

She was wearing a vibrant green dress she’d bought herself. The neckline exposed her collarbone and a hint of cleavage; the skirt was full and flattering.

It had been a good evening. Gina and Patrick had hosted an excellent party, filled with food, music, and laughter.

She’d met Roberto and they’d struck up a conversation about their mutual interest in Italian literature and the rapier wit of Boccaccio. Afterward, she’d driven him home on her Vespa before making the trek to Santo Spirito.

She entered her apartment and closed and locked the door. She tossed her knapsack to the floor and hit the light switch.

She looked into the kitchen and screamed.

William was sitting on one of her chairs, waiting. As was his custom, he was clad all in black, his expression guarded.

She clutched a hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I was under the impression it was your birthday.” He smiled cautiously, his gray eyes searching.

She leaned back against the door. Her body was tense, her hand gripping her cane tightly.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

His smile faded. “I’ve always been more comfortable in the shadows.”

He broke eye contact then, as if he were unsure of her reaction. He placed his hand in his pocket awkwardly.

Something about his lack of sureness pierced her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Her words were sincere. She was sorry, very sorry, for a great many things, not least of which was his loneliness.

At the sound of her sincerity, he lifted his head. Cautious optimism flared in his eyes and it almost broke Raven’s heart.

He approached her slowly, his eyes burning into hers. He moved as if to touch her face, but dropped his hand at the last second.

“That dress suits you. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I have gifts.”

She scowled and brushed past him, moving to the support of the kitchen counter.

It was as if he were an instrument that played only one tune. He’d tried to convince her to stay with him by promising riches. Now he was repeating the act.

She was insulted. And hurt.

“Your possessions don’t interest me.”

“Please.” His tone was low, almost pleading.

Raven focused on his face, surprised. This was the first time he’d ever pronounced the word, she was sure of it.

She tried to soften her defensive posture, at least in appearance.

“It was nice of you to remember my birthday. But you’re making this more difficult.”

“I don’t think anything could be more difficult than the past month.” His expression was grave.

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“I mean it, Raven. I’ve known loss before, incalculable loss. It paled next to losing you.”

She held out her hand, stopping him.

“William, please. I—”

“I want to show you something, then I have a gift I wish to give you. After that, you’ll never see me again.”

Pain lanced through Raven’s body. Seeing him, hearing him, and being reminded that they were separated was almost more than she could bear.

He was gazing on her with what appeared to be hope. The hope was restrained, but still visible.

She could not kill that look.

“All right.” She sighed in resignation. “But nothing has changed. I need you to understand that.”

He moved toward her and gently took her hand in his, pressing it against his heart.

“Everything has changed,” he whispered.

His eyes were focused and intense, as they’d always been. But there was something else in them. Something Raven hadn’t seen before.

“What’s changed, William? Tell me.” Her voice hardened.

“I’d prefer to show you.” He kissed the palm of her hand. “Leave the cane. Tonight you fly with me.”

She leaned into his chest, internally cursing herself for reacting in such a way.

Then she snatched back her hand and placed the cane against the counter before following William to the bedroom window.

He held her with his left arm, clutching her close as he lifted her through the window and up to the roof. Then he ran with her, jumping from building to building, dropping to the ground only to cross the Ponte Santa Trinita.

Raven held on tightly, the speed both dizzying and exhilarating. The gentle midnight breeze blew her hair across her face. She fought with it, unwilling to have her vision obscured.

They scaled a building near the bridge and soon they were flying across the rooftops once again.

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice pierced the silence between them.

William stopped on one of the buildings opposite Giotto’s bell tower.

“I want to show you my city.”

She gazed out over Florence, at the red-tiled roofs and open spaces, at the tourists and citizens walking below.

“Incredible,” she said breathily.

“A better view can be had from Brunelleschi’s dome.” William gestured to the great structure that loomed above them.

She gazed at him skeptically. “It’s holy ground.”