Page 75 of The Billionaire's Pact

We left the car, and Rocco placed his arm around my waist. “Art is something to see over a lifetime.”

“A lifetime? We only have like a few hours,” I mused.

“Yes, that’s the point. Time holds meaning; it’s not stagnant. Seeing Botticelli as a child means something completely different as an adult.”

He greeted someone at the front, and we were shown right in. I felt a twinge of guilt for skipping the long line, but I was excited to go see the famous artwork. We decided to head straight to Botticelli’s work. Once we reached it, I had to agree with Rocco about time.

We gazed over the incredible Primavera, Spring; Botticelli’s depiction of nine mythical figures on a flowery field with orange and laurel trees.

“To me now, it’s….” I hesitated. It’s falling in love.

Rocco pointed at the god Zephyrus. “The mighty wind of Zephyrus is change, stripping away the innocence of the maiden nymph Chloris. She’s ripe, full, and sensual. And together, they are no match for love’s arrow.” He moved to the Cupid above. “That pierces their passion and gives birth to love. Venus is knowledge and abundance. The muse’s dance is the sex, and Mercury blesses with good fortune and fertility. That’s how I see the painting now.”

My skin heated. “That’s a very different take from what I heard in college, but I love your interpretation. It’s very…sensual.”

“Yes, it is. I thought the same when we kissed on the street in Siena. You’ve inspired me.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Rocco’s gaze shifted over my face, his expression impish. He kissed my lips, then my neck, right where he had sucked on it earlier when he was deep inside me. I shivered, and my breath hitched. His nose brushed behind my ear. “I want to fuck you here.” His tone was deep, seductive.

I shuddered, my heart beating faster. “Rocco.” I tried to admonish him, but my voice was breathless. There were people all around us, some even staring.

I pushed his chest, and touched my warm face. He cocked an eyebrow, challenging me.

“Oh, my God. You’re serious? No…no way. Let’s get the book from the gift shop and move on.” I shook my head, touching my smile.

Rocco chuckled. “As you wish, soon-to-be Mrs. Marini.”

We didn’t leave, but went on to Botticelli’s life-size painting of The Birth of Venus.

Rocco gazed admiringly. “Everything about a woman’s body is so beautiful. This is a celebration of form. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” I said and beamed at it. “It was one of my dreams to see this in person. It’s one of the paintings that inspired me to draw. I used to draw on everything, anything.”

“Your paintings are vibrant, exciting, and you’re great with form,” he said. “I could see us all in your creation. You captured our passion for the music.”

I beamed at his praise. “I. Wow. Thank you. I have a long way to go, though.”

He squeezed my hand and brushed a kiss on my cheek. “Some things are worth putting time into.”

“Do you think I should do that?” I asked, tentatively.

“Yes, I do. I’ve grown up to appreciate talent and true beauty, Adelina. And I’m not one to joke about talent. I don’t give false praise. Have never seen the point.” He looked so serious, and it made me realize that there were so many facets to this man.

“Thank you for saying that. My family doesn’t really recognize my desire to create art. They’ve squashed that hope, if I’m honest.”

“Then I hope I can keep your dream alive.”

“I’d like that. Thank you. It’s nice to feel empowered, if that makes sense.”

“Complete sense.” He linked his hand with mine and pulled me forward.

We went to see the masterpieces Leonardo Di Vinci’s Annunciation, the shield head of Medusa by Caravaggio, and the power beheading of Holofernes by Judith.

“Power is sexless,” I said. “Women can be as strong—”

“And evil,” he said grimacing. “It’s a powerful work, but unsettling.”

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