Why had she always been so afraid to do this when she was in her twenties? Her first solo trip had been glorious. She’d completed nearly everything on her list except the last two items – tour the ruins, which she was doing now, and meet a mysterious man.
There was a black-clad figure standing at the top of the ancient steps. His back was to her, but as he heard her behind him, he turned to face her, his eyes crinkling in surprise.
“You are very beautiful. Bellissima,” he said in a heavily accented voice, delicately kissing her hand. It was a line, all of it an act. Something he probably said to women traveling alone all of the time. But she didn’t mind a few pretty lies.
As he led her through the old structure, she looked at her other hand, raising it slightly and turning it over, noticing that the sun had darkened the winding line around her finger so much that she could hardly see it any longer.