His chambers in the Palazzo Farnese smelled of incense and old leather. He was not the ogre of legend; he was worse. He was reasonable.
She did not leap from the Castel Sant’Angelo that night. She simply walked home, sat at her mirror, and began to remove her stage makeup. His chambers in the Palazzo Farnese smelled of
Flavia had sung the role of Tosca a hundred times. She knew every jealous flash of the eyes, every trembling pianissimo. But tonight, the dress rehearsal was different. Every note felt like a premonition. She did not leap from the Castel Sant’Angelo that night
“Because he suspects you hide Angiolotti, the escaped consul.” Luca’s jaw tightened. “And because he wants you.” She knew every jealous flash of the eyes,
Luca touched her hand. “Scarpia is in the audience.”
“Signora Flavia,” he said, pouring two glasses of dark wine. “Your Tosca is sublime. The jealousy in Act Two—where she believes Cavaradossi has betrayed her—it comes so naturally. I wonder why.”
Tomorrow, there would be another rehearsal. Another Tosca.