Page 9 of Sinful Promises

He led us to a slightly larger space, which still had a coffin slotted into the cavity in the wall and turned to us. “Roman catacombs are said to be some of the oldest in the world, dating back as far as the second century and pre-Roman occupation. Initially the tunnels were for mining various rocks.”

He drew our attention to the coffin. “Soft volcanic rock made the site perfect for digging, so the clever Jews and the Christians began using them for graves.”

“This is fascinating.” Roman spoke to me, but his eyes were on Matteo as he pointed out various artworks over the coffin.

I blinked at Roman and was shocked by his expression. He seemed enthralled. I thought his comment was him being sarcastic, given that he’d barely shown any interest in history so far. But nope. He was totally engrossed in what Matteo was saying.

Matteo guided us farther and deeper into the catacombs. If we missed a turn, we could be lost in the twenty-something miles of tunnels for all eternity. At least, that was according to Matteo. He stopped at several places to point out ancient art and notable excavation sites. But my eyes couldn’t shift from Roman. He was fascinated. I had not expected that.

Maybe the two of us had something in common after all.

After emerging from the dark catacombs, the sunlight was blinding, and following the obligatory walk through the gift shop, we boarded the bus again—this time headed for Basilica of San Clemente.

This was no ordinary church.

Just about all of Rome was built on layers upon layers of history. It was the main reason why construction of the third line for the underground train had taken nearly twenty years to build. The digging was constantly being stopped because they’d uncovered more items of archaeological significance.

The Basilica of San Clemente was a perfect representation of that history. I had always wanted to visit it. Maybe fate had played to my hand for a change. Because exploring this church with Roman by my side was going to make it even more special. Then again, he made everything special.

From the outside, the church displayed no indication of the history it contained. Step inside, though, and it was a different story.

Our group paused at the entrance. Everyone hushed as if holding their breath. The church’s interior was absolutely stunning. My eyes flitted over gilded and frescoed ceilings that were works of art worthy of any gallery—intricate marble designs were inlaid in the floor and the gold mosaiced apse commanded attention.

Roman’s hand brushed mine and my heart skipped a beat. “Look at that.” His hot breath on my neck had a delightful shiver fluttering over my skin.

I followed the direction of his gaze to the exquisite detail in the domed ceiling. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’d love to bring Mamma here.”

He knew all the right things to say. And just like that, Mr. Perfect hit yet another level. My chest squeezed.

Following Matteo, we descended a set of stairs that led us to a church that was built in the fourth century. It was impossible to even comprehend what life would have been like back then, let alone how they built something that was still standing after all this time.

I tried to focus on Matteo as he pointed out and described the wall paintings that were said to be some of the earliest Christian art in the world. But it was nearly impossible with Mr. McHottie at my side. Roman looked great. His cologne smelled sexy—all tropical scents and exotic spices. But right now, as he was sharing some of the most incredible history in the world with me and genuinely seemed to be loving it, I was falling in love with him all over again.

Why couldn’t he have a zit on his chin? Or dribble occasionally? A fart or two would do it. But it wasn’t just his looks that held me captive. It was the expressions in his eyes. His manly contagious laugh. Fuck, it was all of him. Hell, he probably even had exceptional toes.

But how could that be? Surely there was something about Roman that was unperfect—if that was even a word.

I studied him, looking for a fault, and he turned to me, maybe sensing my scrutiny.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “This is so cool. Can you believe this was built over sixteen hundred years ago?”

Shit, Daisy, you’re missing it. Stay in the moment. “I know, right? Unbelievable.”

We followed Matteo down another set of stairs. This time we gathered around a third-century pagan temple, and everybody was still and quiet as Matteo wowed us with the history behind it.

Down yet another set of stairs, we were shown the remains of a first-century residence and a Christian worship site.

Matteo waited until we were all gathered around him. “It’s a miracle all this is here because much of Rome was destroyed by the great fire of AD 64.” Matteo put his finger to his lips. “Can you hear that?”

“Sì. It’s running water.” Roman’s whisper was loaded with awe.

Bloody hell. Even his whisper oozed sex appeal, and based on the look by the blonde chick to his side—a look that implied she was in the company of an Italian god—I wasn’t alone in my drooling over him.

Fuck me. I needed to have my brain assessed. Maybe it’d been swapped with a horny teenager’s last time I was passed out drunk.

“Correct,” Matteo said. “It’s from an underground river that is part of Cloaca Maxima. Ancient Romans were a very clever bunch. Their sewer system was built in the sixth century, and did you know that you can drink water from all the fountains around the city? They are all fed from natural water.”

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