I hugged her and caught a whiff of her perfume. It was vanilla scented and it was beguiling.

"You act like we haven't seen each other in some time," she said.

"Something like that," I replied. I took the plastic lid off my espresso to let some of the steam waft away.

"Perhaps you should have ordered it iced?"

Isabella and a few of the others always liked to mock me gently for letting my drinks cool a little before I sipped at them. I guess that Italians liked to scald their mouths. Either that, or they were born with the innate ability to down hot espresso.

"Next time I'll get a cold one," I returned.

Usually I took the teasing in stride. Sitting there, I didn't realize how much I would have missed it until she brought it up.

"You are certain? You seem... sad?" Isabella tried, searching for the right English word.

I kept getting this urge to tell her everything. To tell her that I couldn't come up with any way to get Dr. Aretino to lay off.

Except my desire to fix this all by myself kept intercepting that impulse. There has to be a way. I'm just not seeing it yet.

"Has Professor Di Cenzo fixed that paper for you, yet?" she asked. The barista came over with Isabella's latte and set it on the table beside her. "Grazi." She sipped from it right away, not even flinching at the heat.

I shrugged. "Not yet."

"You told him that he made an error? You told him that I helped you with that paper?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second."

"You should tell him. He would reconsider if he knew."

"The work should stand on its own, though. I just don't know what to do about it anymore. It's like there's nothing I can do!" Frustration clouding my judgment, I grabbed my latte and took a sip. It was still too hot. I sucked in a breath through my teeth at the sudden pain.

"Are you certain you are all right? You seem... I believe the word is preoccupied?"

"It's nothing," I started to say. I couldn't finish, though. There comes a point where you have to let something out, or else you would burst. And I didn't like keeping this from Isabella. She knew something of what was going on, true. But not the full extent.

So I told her. I filled her in on everything. On how Dr. Aretino refused to budge, on Professor Di Cenzo and the rest of the faculty siding with him, on how I'd come so close to leaving, on how Liam had come and saved me from myself there.

And how I felt my hands were tied, how I couldn't figure out how to fix this that didn't involve me lowering myself to Dr. Aretino's level.

Isabella listened carefully, that little dimple of concentration forming between her eyebrows. She took sips from her latte, then pressed her lips together.

When I finished, she said, "You didn't think to say goodbye to me?"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course."

We hugged again and I experienced this burst of gratitude and friendship for her.

"You say you don't want to be like him. I do not mind so much. Let me take care of this for you. There is a baron with an estate near Napoli, he wants my attention so badly, he will do anything I ask him. Anything, I tell you. I could get him to..."

I put my hand on hers. "Thanks, really. But I really feel like I need to take care of this myself."

She smiled in a way that would make an angel blush. "Fine. If you feel you must, then you must. You won't accept any help at all? Not even from your Liam?"

"I want to do this myself," I reiterated. Isabella held up her hand to stop me from saying anymore.

"I think that you've become so involved in this that you have forgotten something. There is a difference between asking for help and advice and getting someone to do a thing for you."

"I don't see your point," I said.

"If your Liam feels for you like I think he does, then he would very much like to help you. You should let him."

"No," I shook my head.

She blinked, then glanced around the cafe, trying to find some way to explain what she meant. Then she smiled. "Your paper for Professor Di Cenzo, you let me help you with that. You let me suggest changes and additions. Was that cheating?"

"Of course not," I replied. Teachers and professors were always bugging students to review each other's work. "Oh," I finished, finally seeing her point.

Isabella shrugged, then looked at me over the rim of her cup while she took another sip of her latte.

She set the cup down and then lightly tapped the tabletop with her manicured nails. "So here is my advice to you: accept help. Let him help you."

We finished our drinks together. I didn't pity that baron trying to court her. He didn't stand a chance.

Chapter 16

Liam picked me up from the campus. The sun had begun its descent into the west, and we had to pull the visors down to keep it out of our eyes. A bar of shadow ran over Liam's face starting at his nose, making it look like he wore a mask.

"Is this the same one as before?" I said, nodding at the BMW's dash.

"Yes, actually. They tried to offer me a different one, but I insisted. I have too many good memories with this car to let it go so easily."

We purposely avoided talking about school. I could tell he wanted to, from the way we danced around the subject.

Instead, we talked about how pretty the city looked in the slowly dying light, about what we hoped to see at the museum. That sort of thing. Anything but Dr. Aretino and how I planned on winning.

And then I kept thinking about what Isabella had told me. I wanted to do like she suggested, I really did. It just didn't feel like the right time, though. Like some important piece was missing from the equation.

We reached the Capitoline Hill and it was just as beautiful and breathtaking as I remembered. With it being so late in the day and the season, it was nearly deserted, too.

Liam took my hand and we wandered past the central square with its starburst floor and its bronze statue and into the building that looked down on it.

It was called the Palazzo dei Conservatori, and we'd only been in to see the ground floor that first visit.

At first I thought it was closed. But when Liam reached for the door it opened with his grasp.

A guard wandered by, resting one hand on the black leather case that contained his cuffs. He gave us a quick once over before turning his nose up and wandering down the polished floor of a nearby hallway.

Excitement thrilled through me, buzzing in my chest. All of my senses opened up. I couldn't believe how empty the place was, that I wouldn't have to deal with people jostling us to get a look at some tapestry.

I really needed this.

It was an incredibly opulent building with paintings and frescoes and statuary. So the two of us looked the part of the tourist couple. I still wore my casual clothes from school: a comfy pair of jeans, a shirt and a light jacket over that to ward off the cooling evening air.

Liam wore his polo shirt and khaki pants, the shirt pulled out so that you couldn't see the brown belt he had on. The slight chill in the air didn't seem to affect him.

So definitely a pair of tourists. Though neither of us had a Nikon or Canon slung around our neck, which I suppose probably made us more conspicuous. Tourists that weren't there to take pictures were usually there to touch.

"He probably thinks we're going to try and touch the paintings," Liam said, picking the words out of my mind.