My maroon, lace-up boots thump on the stone until we stop to eavesdrop on a tour guide. We're on our way to becoming quite the experts in spotting parts of the original construction versus later renovations when Lauren points at a semi-circular platform over the narrow end of the amphitheater. Below are a series of exposed walls, which used to hold up the arena floor.

"Let's go down there," she says.

I briefly consider checking the comments on my posts or even searching for our names to see if anyone else had seen us, but decide against it. Who cares? I've already done as told. Whether it works or not is out of my hands. I'd much rather focus on enjoying the afternoon. Tomorrow it'll be back to business with another wretched interview, and then my head has to be squarely in racing until just about this time on Sunday.

Lauren doesn't have as much self-control, fiddling with her mobile as we go around to the far side. "My fan club saved your Snap and retweeted it. See?" She stops and turns the screen toward me so I can read it.

OMG!!! Seb and Lauren at the Coliseum are the cutest! The rumors must be true!!!

That is a lot of enthusiasm. "You have a fan club?" I ask.

She turns her face upward and smirks. "Don't sound so surprised. You have like ten. Of course, I used to think mine was just my dad running the account, but this definitely disproves that. He wouldn't use so many exclamation marks."

I laugh, imagining Marcus online, running his daughter's propaganda machine. "That is probably true," I say, leaning my elbows on the wooden railing. Below, a two-story drop leads to the grass covered, open corridors we saw from the higher level.

"Hey, can you turn around?" Lauren asks, stepping beside me. "I think I can get a pretty good pic if I get the angle right."

With our backs to the railing, she tries to set up another selfie. I keep one arm behind her as she pushes closer, but she obviously wants to squeeze as much of the crumbling walls into frame as possible because she keeps raising the phone higher and higher. With our heads tilted toward each other and our faces to the sky, she taps the screen. But as the images freezes, the device slips from her fingers and smacks her on the forehead. There's no chance of catching it before it falls into the void behind us.

"Oh, shit." She touches the spot of impact and turns around, searching for the phone on the lawn below.

"You are okay?" I ask, looking for any sign of injury on her skin. A coin-sized, pink splotch sits above her right eyebrow.

Lauren rubs the faint bruise. "Yeah. But my phone." She motions downward with a sigh. "We don't have tickets for that area."

I really don't want to stand in a long line just to spend money on a tour I'll only use to retrieve her mobile. "Come," I say, reaching for her hand. Taking the steps two at a time, we go back up one level and find the nearest security guard.

The guy in the blue uniform doesn't wait for me to talk. "Ciao, Seb Bianchi! Come stai?"

I'm usually not one to exploit my celebrity, but this time I don't mind the recognition as long as it gets us what we need. "Great, thanks," I reply in Italian, shaking his hand. "Listen. My friend dropped her mobile. Can you help us get down into the lower level to get it back?"

Lauren squeezes my fingers as the guard looks her up and down, a smile forming on his face. Bastard. I can imagine what all he's reading into the term 'friend.'

"Certamente. Follow me," the guy says.

After I describe where we were standing when the device fell, he leads us to a restricted-access stairway where a colleague is checking tour group credentials. We get waved through and then descend into the half-buried labyrinth before stepping back into the sunlight on the arena's lowest open level. Lauren can't decide which way to look, craning her neck in every direction at the unique site. Before we get to the spot under the platform, the guard's walkie crackles to life. There's so much static, I can't understand a word that comes through, but the guy must hear something important because he gets all jittery.

"I must go, but you keep going straight then turn left at that wide path there. See it?" he asks for confirmation after pointing in the direction.

I nod. "No problem. Thank you. And we can go back the same way?"

"You're welcome. And yes, the same way or feel free to tag along with a group." He backs away, giving me a thumbs-up. "Good luck in Mugello, too."

"Grazie." I wave good-bye and turn to Lauren to translate.

"Ooh, we get to poke around down here?" Mischief plays in her eyes before she excitedly runs ahead toward her mobile. She doesn't get far before stopping by a broken piece of wall. Made of ancient, red bricks, moss covers one side and tufts of grass sprout from several cracks. At eye-level, a fat, orange cat is sitting on top licking its paw. "Look! A kitty-cat."

"Yes. She is a gatto di Roma," I say when I catch up. "This is her home along with maybe one hundred others. They are quite famous."

"Seriously? How cool is that?" She wrinkles her nose in that really cute way. "I'd probably live here if I was a cat, too."

"Well, if you want to see more then we should first find your mobile." I glance to where it fell before looking back at Lauren. Her eyebrows shoot up as she gets the challenge. Before I can move, she bolts forward.

I didn't mean to race her; not in a way that I'd actually make an effort to get there first. It was just something silly to suggest. But she's such a fierce competitor I should've known she'd take it seriously. When she pockets the device and disappears down another path, I follow.

She has enough of a lead to win this game of tag, hide-and-go seek, or whatever it is we're now playing, but she lingers just enough each time before changing directions for me to easily keep up. The distance between us as we dart under reinforced arches and between crumbling walls gets shorter when she wants it to, then it grows again when she decides to stay hidden. Chasing her where gladiators once spent their last moments before facing death or where the lions, ostriches and bulls were staged before being hoisted above ground is only made more exciting by the fact that we shouldn't even be down here.

I'm waiting for a guard to bust us when Lauren turns into a hallway under the spectator stands. What is she playing at? Does she want me to make a move? Or is she just teasing to get me back for Germany? I guess it doesn't matter. I'm going to follow either way.

Stopping at the archway, I blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness and pop two Tic-Tacs. This place looks as much to be a maze as the outside, with openings branching off left and right at regular intervals. Filtered sunlight seeping through cracks guides me to a few dead-ends before I catch another glimpse of movement up ahead.

"Lauren?" I whisper. There's no answer, and I continue on, pulling my hand along the wall to stay on path as it gets increasingly darker. The stone here is cold to the touch, and the air smells of earth and dampness. It doesn't take too much effort to imagine it combining with the ancient stench of wild animals and unwashed humans.

I shudder. This place is getting creepier with every step. I'm just about to admit defeat and call out again when I hear a sneeze from the room on my left. I turn and go inside, but it's empty. There's another opening on the other end, though. She must be there, but two can play this game. If she wants me to follow, she won't go further until I almost catch up, right? But if I hang back . . ..

I tiptoe along the wall and pause, counting to thirty before stepping across the threshold. She's closer than I expected. With a loud gasp, the shadow takes off and is quickly out of arm's reach again. I now follow at full speed across two more small chambers, catching up in the third.

She doesn't even try to make it to the nearby hallway, an obvious point of exit judging by the natural light coming from there. Instead, she leans with her back against the stone and smiles.

It's like she's ready to be caught.

Skidding to a stop in front of her, I place one hand on the wall above her shoulder to steady myself. Her eyes dart across my face as the lid of her cap taps my forehead.

"Did I scare you?" I ask between ragged breaths, blowing minty air directly at her. My heart isn't racing from the chase, but rather the catch. Anything can happen now. I have no moral objections to these circumstances like I had back in Germany.

Lauren is also struggling to even her breathing. "No," she exhales the word as her shoulders move up and down.

I lower my chin and raise a brow in a silent, Oh really?

"Okay," she says, tilting her head to the side and biting her lower lip. "Maybe you surprised me a little."

I want to be the one doing the biting, and all the signs are pretty obvious that she'd be okay with that, but I can't leave room for misunderstanding.

"Should we go?" I ask, never looking forward to hearing 'no' as much as I am now.

Her eyes are locked on mine as she shakes her head. "Not yet. I like it down here. It's quiet. And peaceful."

An invisible weight lifts from my body. "And private," I say, adjusting my hand on the wall to graze her ear with my thumb.

The corners of her lips curve upward. She understands. She also doesn't object. My body starts to tingle. With my other hand, I grab her waist and pull her closer.

"Can I ask you something?" She touches my chest, but instead of pushing me away, she digs her fingers into my shirt.

The air around us is still cool, but an unexpected warmth spreads through me, flowing from my midsection through my limbs. With my body on fire, I wet my lips. "Yes," I manage to croak into the deafening silence.

"Are we still pretending?" she whispers barely louder than the echoes of the ghosts of the past surrounding us.

Emboldened, I lean in and nudge her nose with mine. "Tell me what is the right answer that will let me kiss you."

She draws in a sharp breath and closes the gap between us. Pressing her mouth onto mine, her soft lips part eagerly as she slides her tongue inside. For a moment, my mind goes blank on everything but her. It's as if all the feelings I've been holding back for the past few weeks—feelings I never believed were even there—come pouring out. We've just started, and already I can't get enough of her.

Kissing Lauren is better than I could have imagined. I tilt my body against hers to feel every curve, and she wraps her hands around my neck to make it even easier. My nose fills with her scent, a mix of soap, gum, and detergent that blocks the musty smell of this dank chamber. She tastes as sweet as I expected, making me want more although I haven't even let her go. I don't intend to any time soon, and my fingers curl around her waist before she lets out a low moan.

She is driving me absolutely insane, and I'm about to burst out of my jeans. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen, but by the way my whole being is reacting to her, apparently this is exactly what I need. It's also what's going to get me into a hell of a lot of trouble. Then again, who says this is the start of something? What if Lauren acted on a whim, inspired to a little uncharacteristic naughtiness by the romantic location? Nigel and Nicola basically pushed us, after all.

Oh, hell. What if she'll regret all this and we can never look each other in the eye again.

Either Lauren senses my doubts or—worse yet—even agrees because her movements become more subdued. The urgency with which we first attacked each other is gone, but I can't say that the way her fingers are teasing the back of my neck or how she's nibbling on my lower lip are any less arousing. Or maybe I'm reading too much into things and should just go with it.

"What is this?" asks a woman in Italian more like an exclamation than a question as a flashlight shines in our faces.

Lauren drops her hands and I jump back, using my body to shield her from view. Raising my hand over my eyes, the shade helps me see and hopefully stay incognito.

"Sorry," I say to the tour guide, hooking my arm into Lauren's elbow. "We're leaving."

Ignoring the woman's rant on appropriate behavior in public (at a historical site, no less!), we squeeze past her amused-looking tour group of school kids and head to the nearest stairs.

"Why do you have me chase you?" I ask as we emerge above ground, looking for an answer to at least one of my persistent questions.

Lauren looks at me, puzzled. "So you'd catch me, of course," she says matter-of-factly.

I don't know if this means more than how it sounds, but as we leave, I can't help grinning like a fool. The most amazing part is, every time I look at Lauren, she's doing the same.