“Yes, very much,” she responded in Italian.
“I have always admired the depth that da Vinci gives to his paintings, particularly the shading and detail on the pillar.”
She smiled and turned back to the painting. “That’s exactly what I was studying, along with the feathers on the angel’s wings. They’re incredible.”
The gentleman bowed. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Giuseppe Pacciani.”
Julia hesitated, for she recognized his last name. He shared it with the man suspected of being Florence’s most famous serial killer.
The man appeared to be waiting for her to respond to his greeting, so she suppressed the urge to run.
“Julia Mitchell.” She extended her hand in a polite gesture, but he took her by surprise when he grasped it between both of his hands and drew it to his lips, looking up at her as he kissed it.
“Enchanted. And may I say that your beauty rivals that of La Bella Simonetta. Especially in light of this evening’s lecture.”
Julia averted her eyes and swiftly removed her hand.
“Allow me to provide you with a drink.” He quickly flagged down a waiter and took two champagne flutes from his tray. He clinked their glasses together and toasted their health.
Julia sipped the Ferrari spumante gratefully, as it gave her a distraction from his intense stare. He was charming, but she was wary of him, not least because of his name.
He smiled at her hungrily.
“I am a professor of literature at the university. And you?”
“I study Dante.”
“Ah, il Poeta. My specialization is Dante, also. Where do you study? Not here.” His eyes wandered from her face to her body to her shoes, before traveling to her face again.
She took a generous step back. “At the University of Toronto.”
“Ah! A Canadian. One of my former students is studying there right now. Perhaps you are acquainted.” He stepped closer.
Julia elected not to correct him about her citizenship and stepped back once again. “Toronto is a large university. Probably not.”
Giuseppe smiled, showing very straight white teeth that glinted strangely in the museum light.
“Have you seen Piero di Cosimo’s Perseus Frees Andromeda?” He gestured to one of the adjacent paintings.
Julia nodded. “Yes.”
“There are Flemish elements in his work, do you see? Also, notice the figures standing in the crowd.” He gestured to a grouping on the right side of the painting.
Julia stepped to one side so she could take a better look. Giuseppe stood 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.