Basilica di San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome
1985Giorgio walked Tamara back to her hotel that evening, not far from the little restaurant where they spent so many hours. She was feeling the effects of the wine, but still in control of her faculties. She wasn't going to allow herself to fall victim to the riskier urges of this budding romance.
But then, she had nothing to fear from Giorgio.
He walked her into the lobby of the hotel and, before turning to go, asked if he might see her again the next day. He still hadn't asked how long Tamara would be in Rome but, at that moment, she would have cancelled her flight if it was scheduled for the next morning.
“Sì,” she responded. Something possessed her to use the Italian word to accede to his request.
Tamara woke up early and showered, then dr
