Page 129 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

The sun was high, casting a golden glow on everything it touched, including her. She wore a simple sundress, her hair hanging down her back, and a leather satchel slung over her shoulder—the quintessential writer in her element. She was wearing a floppy sunhat that really made her look like a tourist.

“You’re staring,” she said, glancing back at me with a smirk.

“Caught me,” I replied, unrepentant. “It’s hard not to. Rome looks good on you.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You brought me here to help with my writer’s block, remember? Not to boost my ego.”

I shrugged. “Can’t it be both?”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“What do you want to see next?” I asked her. “You’re in Rome so when in Rome…”

“Cheesy.” She laughed.

“But true,” I countered playfully. “Come on, what’s on top of your list?”

Kaira paused, biting her lip in thought. She pulled out a crinkled piece of paper from her satchel and unfolded it. “I was thinking the Pantheon first, then maybe we can head over to Piazza Navona?”

I nodded in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”

As we walked toward the Pantheon, weaving our way through the crowded streets, I couldn’t help but observe how natural Kaira seemed here. Perhaps it was the writer in her, forever in pursuit of stories and soaking up the atmosphere, that made her blend seamlessly into any backdrop, however foreign it might be. She wasn’t snapping pictures or posing for selfies. She was doing her best to absorb all of it. She made notes here and there, but mostly, she was committing herself to the experience.

We reached the Pantheon along with what felt like three million other people, but she didn’t care about the crowd. Kaira looked up in awe as we stepped inside. The shaft of light from the oculus overhead illuminated her face, highlighting her expression of pure wonder.

“Imagine all the history here,” she murmured in a near whisper. “The stories these walls have witnessed.”

I watched her as she traced her fingers along the cool marble, her eyes lit with a spark of inspiration. “Do you feel it?” she asked, turning toward me. “The weight of all those centuries?”

I nodded, taking her hand in mine. “It’s incredible,” I replied. “Every corner of this city feels like stepping back in time.”

Kaira squeezed my hand and pulled me closer to the center of the Pantheon. We stood together under the open oculus, bathed in a column of light.

“This is why I write. To capture even a fraction of this feeling in words.”

I smiled, understanding her passion more clearly than ever before. “Are you thinking about making the leap into historical romance?”

She sighed. “No. I love to read them, but it would require a lot more research. I don’t feel like I have the knowledge to do it justice. I’ll stick to reading them rather than writing them.”

“But I bet you could do a good job,” I said.

She laughed as we walked out. “My biggest cheerleader.”

Kaira checked her paper again, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Piazza Navona is next,” she confirmed, folding the map and stuffing it in the satchel.

The walk to Piazza Navona wasn’t long. Street vendors shouted out in lilting Italian, gelato stands boasted arrays of colorful flavors, and musicians added a soundtrack to our journey. Watching Kaira take it all in was easily one of the best experiences of my life. There was pure wonder in her eyes.

When she told me she wanted to write a book with her characters coming from Rome, I knew I had to bring her. She had never traveled. I felt like an ass because I had spent a couple of years traveling but I barely remembered the places I had seen. I had traveled to party, not to see and experience the places.

Kaira’s face lit up at the sight of the fountains and sculptures that made Piazza Navona famously enchanting. She tugged on my hand with childlike eagerness. “Look at the Fountain of the Four Rivers! Isn’t it magnificent?” she exclaimed, her words almost lost amidst the murmur of the crowd.

I leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Every detail. Bernini really knew what he was doing.”

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes scanning every curve and crevice of the artistic masterpiece. “It’s all so captivating,” she said, pulling out her notebook and beginning to jot down thoughts hurriedly.

Watching her scribble rapidly, I felt an appreciation for her passion. She had this remarkable ability to see layers and meanings that I would have missed otherwise. I felt like I was seeing all of this for the first time. After spending an hour or so at Piazza Navona, I led her back toward the next stop. It was my plan, but she was unaware of it.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “There’s a rooftop restaurant I’ve been dying to take you to.”