Taking her time about it, Chelsea knotted and straightened Fiorenzo's tie. When she had gotten it just so, she looked up into his eyes, which had been watching hers the entire time.

"What?" She smiled questioningly. The reply she received was murmured in Italian, and while she couldn't be sure, she assumed it had something to do with staying in, because she could have her Italian right there. 

Patting him playfully on the cheek, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. This would be their first actual date, and she really wanted to go. A new mom and pop place had opened up a short walking distance from her apartment building; she'd laughed when a kid had shoved a flyer for it into her hand when she'd gone down to fetch the mail that morning.

Now, with Fio dressed sharply in a charcoal-grey suit, and Chelsea in a high-collared, light grey dress that came to just above her knees, they walked hand-in-hand towards the business district as the sun set in the desert beyond. Conversation was light as they talked casually about their new crew mates and bosses. Fio had committed to staying with her for the time being, the invitation to stay with her and his acceptance of it not having an expiration date. Chelsea enjoyed having him there, but not because he kept the place immaculate and was secretly an amazing cook. She liked being able to breathe in his scent almost anytime she wanted to. One of her tasks was to do laundry, and she often found herself in the basement laundry room, waiting for an open washer with her face buried in one of his shirts. It seemed a shame to even launder them.

Over her lasagna and his chicken cacciatore, they continued to talk about Summerlin, The Strip, and the various businesses that people they worked with had sunk their teeth and money into. After Chelsea had polished off most of her dish, she tossed her linen napkin aside and excused herself for the ladies' room.

It was small; two stalls, one sink, and no attendant. After she'd straightened her dress and existed the first stall, she turned left to head for the sink when two hands snaked around her midsection.

"The bathroom? Kinky. Let me at least wash my hands first," she grinned, but the hands around her waist simply tightened and drew her back.

"No. You know I like you filthy, Crossfire."

Chelsea's heart stopped, the happy little smile on her face sliding away. That wasn't her baritone. It was Mark Crenshaw. Every other Thursday. Liked it so rough it wasn't much more than simulated rape.

"Won't take my calls anymore. Maybe I should punish you," he growled into her ear, one of his hands reaching under the hem of her dress and heading for her panties. She began to struggle then, but it only excited him more. 

"FIORE-" Before she could finish yelling his name, she was pushed violently forward onto the tile floor. Behind her, the sound of a belt unbuckling. Chelsea made it up onto all fours before he landed on her, flattening her again with such force that it knocked every stitch of air out of her lungs. As she struggled desperately for oxygen and the world went hazy, her only coherent thought was wondering if her old life would ever truly be over.

The night could not have been going any better for Fiorenzo-unless they had stayed home. There were too many people around for his liking. When you were with a woman as beautiful as Chelsea, it made it hard to stay away from prying eyes. His nerves were high, but as long as he kept staring into those emerald beauties of hers, things were fine. The Italian here wasn’t terrible anyways. It wasn’t completely Italian, but being with her made it more unnoticeable. When she left for the restroom he sat there smiling to himself for a moment.

It wasn’t long before something felt off in the air. Some guy had walked off towards the restrooms shortly after Chelsea, and Fiorenzo had felt him staring since they walked in the place. He gave it a moment trying to assure himself that he was being paranoid. He just wasn’t used to dining out in places like this. “Fanculo.” He muttered as he stud up and walked back towards the restroom area. He was headed for the men’s restroom to see if that prick was in there. Maybe have a little chat about being polite. Then he heard it. It was Chelsea through the wall for sure. The was she said Fio was burnt into his ears forever.

When he opened the door with his switchback in hand, he had intended to shut it back slowly. The sight of her with that brute sprawled out over her grabbing at her dress and pulling it up caused Fiorenzo’s mind to go blank. The corners of the room glowed white through his eyes as his face and body flushed in anger. He didn’t know who the asshole was, but he knew tonight was his last night to be one. He took off running and flicked the blade out switching it to underhand at the same time.

There was a quick snikt followed by the thud of this walking dead man’s right calf muscle settling up behind his knee. Fiorenzo sliced his Achilles in quick underhanded strike of his blade. “Muori lentamente!” Fiorenzo bellowed out as his Italian leather sole made a new home of this man’s face; the bastard had turned in reaction to the slice and charge. He rolled off of Chelsea in a tumble back away from Fiorenzo’s heel. “Non meriti di toccare un angelo! Uomo morto!”

Mark had reached towards Chelsea to grab at her with his left hand. The other was grabbing his calf as he screamed out in pain. It wouldn’t be too long before people were coming. Fiorenzo leaped towards Mark over Chelsea with reckless abandon. This man had to die. Fiorenzo took a sharp elbow to the side of his face that scraped up his cheek causing a long slice like that of a paper cut. He immediately tasted blood from his cheek tearing at his own teeth. Had it been a little more on mark under his chin it could have had him seeing stars. It didn’t matter now though Fiorenzo’s strike had landed. Mark coughed and screamed out in pain as Fiorenzo tore the blade into his gut a few inches above the navel.

“Lei è mia!"

Fiorenzo bellowed out and spat blood into the man’s face as he used both hands to dig the blade down from his navel as far towards his groin as possible. It was at least four inches long and a few deep and Mark was screaming out the proof. It would take him an hour or two to die if they stopped the bleeding, but there was no way anyone was saving that. Fiorenzo’s eyes were seeing white and red when he heard Chelsea speak again. It caused him to immediately pull the knife out and turn towards her. His eyes were not able to adjust from the rage still burning within him.

"Fiorenzo."

It was quietly spoken, but the tile bounced his name around the small room like an out-of-control echo. Her voice hoarse from the half-scream and the loss of air, Chelsea began to stand. Her foot slipped in the growing pool of blood near her feet and she landed on her ass, only to start scrabbling to her feet again. They needed to hurry.

Grabbing Fio's hand, she pushed through the bathroom door and pulled him into the hallway. People were coming from the restaurant end; Chelsea went the opposite direction. She hoped to find an emergency exit, there was always an emergency exit, but not today. The door at the end of the hallway opened into the kitchen. The pair hustled through it, heads down as Chelsea led them to what looked like a service entrance. Pushing through it, they found themselves in a service alley, not unlike the one they'd met in in Chicago. 

There was no time for sentimentality, unfortunately. When they exited the alley into the street, people were already crowding the entrance to the restaurant, and a police siren could be heard in the distance. Cursing to herself, Chelsea backed up and nudged Fio towards the other end of the alley, one street further over from home. 

"Did you happen to bring your truck keys, Fio? Please say you did," she nearly begged. Fio's hand drew up and out of his pants pocket, the fading light glinting off the metal in his hand.

"Maybe home isn't the best thing right now. Maybe we backtrack, then go drive for a while. Just to make sure?" It wasn't the greatest plan, but it was a plan they agreed on. Trying to look casual, the pair moved down the secondary street, Fio's arm wrapped around her and both of their heads down as they whispered to each other.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry anyway."

Once they'd arrived home, Fio helped her into the passenger seat of the truck parked out front, then slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Hanging a U-turn, he drove them away from the restaurant chaos and into a very heavy silence. 

She knew she should talk, but she didn't want to. What could she possibly say? 'Sorry I was a whore'? Instead, she reached for the radio dial and turned up the music, then slid over the seat to get closer to him. For a moment she thought he might reject her, but before she even completed the move, his right arm was rising to wrap around her shoulders. Her left hand came to a rest on his right thigh as it maintained pressure on the gas pedal. And then it slid up and over...

“Ti amo Chelsea.”

No longer distracted by his love, Fiorenzo focused on the road more so now than he had the entire drive. At some point he would have to turn back around on Highway 91 one and head back into Vegas. The truck wouldn’t keep fuel forever, and they couldn’t just walk up to anyone right now. Fiorenzo was no stranger to the roads going in and out of Las Vegas though. His sleepless nights before moving in with Chelsea had left him driving around a lot after dark.

Fiorenzo could feel the after effects of a serious adrenaline dump coming soon. He looked in the rear-view and then back up ahead. Dark both ways save for their own headlights. He slowed down abruptly and pulled another U-turn; he headed back for what he hoped wasn’t a road block.

“Don’t worry before we hit Vegas I’m going to take a side road.” They would come out on the other side of Summerlin. It would take longer, but doubtful there would be anyone out on that old road.

“I had to kill him. I just wish I had done it differently now. I..” His hand reached for the stereo and turned it down a bit while looking over at her.

“How often will this happen? I assume he was another one of your old clients?” His face quickly softened when he realized how that must have sounded to her. “Scusate. It doesn’t matter.” He looked down the road as his hands gripped tight to the wheel. The blood in his knuckles long since forced out of his fingers from the increasing grip he didn’t realize he had held.

“Potrei ucciderli tutti.” He said shaking his head as the taste of blood wouldn’t go away. “I can’t imagine what life must have been like for you. Why would you ever?...” Fiorenzo looked back over to her and sighed. He used his knees to drive as he fished for his pack of smokes. It took three tries to find one that wasn’t broken. He sparked a match and then rolled the window down halfway. As he did he spit blood out that had pulled in his cheek for a moment. Fiorenzo took a long drag of the cigarette and looked over to Chelsea blowing it out the side of his mouth.

He wanted to ask her a million questions. He couldn’t find the right one so he just stared as the truck veered off the road and he jerked back to attention. “Fanculo!” He said as well as long string of other muttered curses. The rest of the ride home was quiet and Fiorenzo took his time with the All Jack. He wondered how bad his cheek was cut. He hadn’t looked, but he knew it sure stung. When they pulled back up it had been a good two hours since they fled town. There weren’t cops patrolling this side of Summerlin. He assumed they were sticking to the highways. 

“Let’s get inside quickly. I think we are fine for now. Do you have anything to patch this up after this blood is rinsed away? ” He pointed to his cheek as they both opened their doors. The two stared back at each other for a moment without words before continuing to step out and head quickly inside. Fiorenzo didn't see anyone around on their street. The walk to her apartment door was a quick one with no company. Things couldn't be going better. Fiorenzo helped Chelsea's hand with the door as they slipped inside. It felt like jumping into a massage. The relaxation that flooded over Fiorenzo being back home locked away with his Chelsea. 

"Were they all like that?"

He said in thought. It was meant to be to himself, but it came right out as he looked at her in the barely lit apartment. They hadn't even gone for the lights yet.

Thanks to Fiorenzo, she could move around in the dark effortlessly now. Nothing to trip on, or run into anymore but her own self. Her voice was already halfway across the room and headed into the bedroom before she began to answer him. "No, they weren't all like that. Some just wanted a dinner date. Some just wanted to talk. Most just wanted a quick lay. A few, well. They paid a lot of money for things considered off the beaten path of normalcy." The sound of clothing sliding over skin, then. She was suddenly so tired.

The light popped on in the bathroom, and she came back out again a second later in her robe, cotton and a bottle of peroxide in her hands. 

"Sit," she instructed him, and he did, on the edge of the bed. Chelsea used the light coming from the bathroom to attend to his cheek as she kneeled in front of him. 

"Being a woman was a trade for me, Fio. I was raised as a tomboy by a father who wanted a son. My mother died in childbirth," she said, dabbing at his face. If he scarred, she'd never forgive herself. She loved his face.

"By the time I hit my teens, I had to make a choice. Be a farm girl, or take my chances in the city. I went for the city. I got low on funds real fast, and had met a couple of the girls while I was trying to make ends meet as a waitress. They made it sound glamourous," she snorted, shaking her head at her stupidity back then. "I guess in some ways it was, since most of the clients were loaded. You develop a taste for the nicer things, real fast. I was smart about it though, put in savings the majority of what I made. I had no intention of doing it forever...another five years tops, and I could have retired in style," she smiled. 

"I would love to tell you we'll never run into an ex client again, Fio. I just can't. Not as long as we live in Vegas, for sure. If we need to stay in every night, we can do that. Your other option is to simply bow out. I'd understand it if you did. Not exactly what a man fantasizes about when picturing his dream girl," she said, a small, sad smile on her lips. Leaning in, she blew on his cheek to dry it. It wasn't terrible; the bleeding had long since stopped.

"You should leave that uncovered for the time being. I think it will heal faster, honestly. Let's see how it looks in the morning," she said, rising again and extending her hands for his. Would he even be here in the morning?

Their fingers interlocked as Chelsea straddled Fiorenzo. He smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. His lips held there for a moment as the events of earlier flooded back to him. He couldn’t imagine how alone someone with a life like hers must truly feel. No matter how many men she was seeing, no one was seeing the real Chelsea. He sighed as the weight of a date he’ll not soon forget came crashing down on him.

“Quindi non seppellire la mia faccia tra le tue cosce?”

Fiorenzo chuckled and his fingers unlocked from hers. He grabbed Chelsea by the waist. His hands gentle but firm as he helped move her to the side. He stood and stared down at her from her position on the bed. His eyes softened as worries melted away from him. Fiorenzo didn’t care if he had to kill a thousand men. Chelsea would never be hurt like that again. He wouldn’t leave her. Not now, she had taken his king and the whole damn chess set at this point.  

“A past doesn’t ever like to stay put like it should. How were you to know your plans would ever change?” Fiorenzo’s thumb brushed across Chelsea’s lips. “Stay in? Go out? It doesn’t matter to me.” “I would love to end another one of those asshole’s lives.” He thought to himself and smirked.

“You would have been wasted on a farm.”

Fiorenzo began to undress. Once he was completely naked he walked down the hall to the kitchen. He opened the fridge searching for the other half of the bottle of wine he opened last time he killed someone. He took a drink from the bottle standing there nude in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but run through what all Chelsea had told him. Maybe she really hadn’t kissed anyone in years? He thought she was being metaphorical when she said that before. He had never really given much thought to prostitutes. It wasn’t something he had ever had to seek out himself. The word didn’t even fit right when he thought of Chelsea.

She’s just Chelsea. He took another swig of the wine and walked back to the bedroom carrying it loosely by the neck. His body was a bit drained. “No one had kicked in the door so they were safe for now? Did any of the other eyes at the restaurant recognize the two of them?” Fiorenzo couldn’t help but keep planning. That is until he was standing there in the door looking in to see Chelsea. She was already under the covers and he smiled at her. Her eyes looked heavy, but she was still awake.

“Maybe we order out tomorrow?”

The bottle of wine went to bed with Fiorenzo. He wasn’t one to drink much, but anything sounded good to calm him tonight. He had to make sure Chelsea was safe. He couldn’t do that from jail. He regretted not being able to control himself earlier tonight. It wasn’t something he was used to experiencing, a loss of self control. Fiorenzo looked over at Chelsea and smiled as he tipped the bottle back. He licked his lips when he pulled the bottle away staring down at her green eyes. She had rolled over to look up at him.

“Sei un bel caos.”