Being back in Las Vegas was...strange. Barely anything looked the same. The Strip was bigger and more glittery than she remembered. The first thing Emily did when she stepped off the bus at the station was to take a cab to the very edge of town; a stately looking mansion home at the end of a rather secluded suburban street. Stepping out of the cab, she gave the house a long, sad look. Several vines had grown over the doors, and a tree branch had fallen into the roof. It was terrible to see such a beautiful place in disrepair. Ah, the memories. Maybe some day, if she survived long enough, Emily could restore the place. A home for herself, perhaps? 

Back in the taxi, she asked the driver to take her to a bar; somewhere quiet and off the beaten path. The driver nodded, his pocket bulging with enough fare money to keep him happily driving her around as long as she liked. She felt safer in cars. Being on the move made her a target harder to hit. Still, out of habit, she sat squarely in the middle and nowhere near the windows.

The cabbie dropped her off at a lounge called Willow Blue. Emily could count the number of cars in the lot on one hand, and that was enough. She thanked the driver and got out, her face obscured by large sunglasses and a silk scarf tied over her head. It might be silly, but at least it wasn't a nun's habit. Smirking, she could almost taste the whiskey sour she'd be ordering; a formal celebration of giving up the vows she never took.

Inside, the lights were dim and music came from an older, gray haired man playing the piano. An attendant took her coat, leaving her in a form-fitting, emerald green dress and black, peep-toe heels. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and her bangs neatly curled above her eyebrows. The bar only had one other person perched there. Emily gave him a polite smile as she settled onto a stool. 

"Whiskey sour, please- with an orange slice if you have them."

The bartender nodded and went about making the drink. Laying her handbag in her lap, Emily couldn't help but keep her head on a swivel, scanning the room from corner to corner.

Silvio listened to the piano music and sighed. His hazel eyes flickered to woman who walked in. Beautiful- and she knew how to dress herself, as well. He cracked his neck as an excuse to turn in her direction and flash her a smile. His grey suit and black tie were filled out by a lean frame, and he swept a hand through his dark hair as he nodded at her drink.

"Americans love their liquor, no? Why is this, may I ask? Is it simply to get drunk faster?"

Smirking, he drank from his glass of red wine.

With a slightly raised eyebrow and coy shrug, Emily circled the rim of her glass with her finger.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but tonight..."

Her fingers slid down the old-fashioned glass and brought up to her lips.

"...tonight, it is absolutely to get drunk faster."

The first sip burned it's way down her throat- a little more powerful than she remembered. To be fair, it had been four months since she dared to take a drink. Placing the glass back down on the bar, she eyed the gentleman's choice of drink. 

"Let me see; tall, dark, and handsome, drinking good wine in a classy joint like this. I'm going to take a guess that you're not a local."

As she replied, she twisted the bar stool seat just enough so that she could cross her long legs at the knees, letting the heel of one of her shoes dangle delicately off her foot.

Silvio laughed with a crooked smile.

"No. Not a local. As far as one can get from local. I was lived my whole life surrounded by water in la bella Venezia, and now I found myself in this godforsaken litter box."

He drank more of his wine and his smile straightened out.

"Thank God for beautiful women, drinking, and gambling. This city, at least has all three. And tonight, I already have two of out three at worst in your company, even if you are not one for games of chance."

He raised his glass, toasting her, before returning his attention to her drink with a teasing sneer.

"Whiskey. Liquor. Pah! A good bout of drinking should be like a seduction- a slow, blissful dance into a warm, pleasant drunkenness. Many things are better when you take your time; do you not agree, Miss...?"

He paused, waiting for her name but offering his first.

"Call me Silvio. Silvio Violante. A pleasure to make your acquaintance..."

Emily hesitated, and not for only a second. Cecily? Emily? Something else? Being in Las Vegas was either great for her or dangerous for her - it all depended on who she was looking at. If her side work as an information broker had taught her anything, it was that the best liars are the ones that don't seem like liars at all. Following that logic, a man like Silvio was not likely to be a threat. He was the kind of person that naturally drew the attention of everyone in the room. He had looks that turned heads, and spoke eloquently. No, he wasn't a threat. Not to her life or identity, anyway. 

"My name is Emily. I'm originally from Nevada. Been away for some time though."

She took another sip of her whiskey, chuckling as she thought about his metaphor. 

"I do agree with you. The good things should be given time to truly enjoy. But, time is a rare luxury for a woman in my line of work. I'm a nurse, you see. Spent several years of my life watching people wish they'd had more time. As much as I'd like to slow dance my way into a bottle, I usually find myself rushing through, sliding sideways until I hit the bottom."

She paused, remembering his initial question to her.

​​​​​​"Maybe you're right. Maybe that is just the good old American way."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Emily from Nevada. Perhaps you can tell me if there is more to this place than sand, women, gambling, and alcohol? With the latter three, I am quite content of course, but I must confess I am curious to see what else this land has to offer."

He sampled his wine, listening to her talk about her work.

"Ah, but perhaps you are correct. There are times when we wish to savor life and other times when we simply demand our satisfaction as quickly and powerfully as possible. Perhaps I must simply adjust to my new country?"

With a grin, he polished off his wine.

"Nurse, my soul is wounded and I must seek medicinal solace in one of these foul smelling bottles. Which do you recommend? My injuries, you see, are invisible."

He glanced over the bottles and sighed. Vodka. Rum. Tequila. Whisky. 

Still, if it brought him closer to this woman, it would be worth it.

For a moment, Emily considered buying an entire bottle of rum and taking him up on an opportunity to get utterly smashed with a good looking man. There certainly worse ways to spend an evening. Instead, she finished off her own drink and got the bartender's attention.

"This gentleman needs another glass of wine, and I'll have a glass as well."

Emily slid the old fashioned away from her and returned her attention to Silvio.

"I have a better idea, Mr. Violante. I'll try your drink and you tell me about Venice. I've never been to Italy, but any place that turns out handsome men like yourself must be wondrous to say the least."

The two glasses of wine arrived. Emily picked one up and handed it to him.

Silvio raised his glass and tapped it against Emily's with a grin; as he did so with his left hand, his right reached out and grabbed the bottle, retrieving it from the bartender with a smirk.

"Not so fast my friend, hmm?"

Balancing the bottle and the glass in one hand and lightly leading Emily with the other, Silvio made his way to one of the tables and relaxed into the worn, comfortable leather booths. He sat next to Emily as they both faced the piano, but they were also in corner, facing both entrances to the Willow Blue. He had a large, savoring sip of wine before he sighed; as he spoke, he alternately stared into the distance and looked at Emily with his shining hazel eyes.

"Venezia..."

He said it like a prayer- albeit one from a damned man.

"To say it is the most beautiful city in the world is an understatement; it is the city of men and women- of people. Every other city aspires to immortality. The towers of London, New York, Paris, Roma... they pretend they are eternal and will outlast us. Venezia, sinking slowly into the ocean, she is as mortal as the men and women who walk its streets. As such, everything becomes more beautiful. The sky is bluer, the sun is more golden, the people are more beautiful..."

"When you lean on the Ponte Rialto or walk in San Marco square, you exist in the capital of humanity."

Silvio blinked, returning his focus to Emily.

"But you must know something of mortality, no? Tell me about being a nurse."

With a grin, he refilled their glasses.

The wine was robust and left a wonderful hint of cherry at the back of her tongue. It wasn't her first glass of wine ever, but it was easily the best. Still, it seemed to pale in comparison to the way Silvio spoke about Venice. Emily could almost see the streetscapes in her mind. 

"That sounds like a place that I should make a point to see some time. I haven't gotten to do much traveling for pleasure lately."

She took a drink of the wine, relaxing back against the softer seat of the booth and grateful for the move. 

"I cared for my elderly grandmother from the time I was 13 until she passed away. I went straight to nursing school and finished a year before the rest of my class. I just knew I'd find a job in a hospital and save every life that came my way. Funny thing was, there were no jobs to be had. Instead, I became an escort. The money was phenomenal, but it wasn't as satisfying as nursing. Life has a funny way of putting you on a different track than the one you started out on."

Before she knew it, she'd emptied the glass.

"It was the homeless shelter in Detroit that really showed me humanity, and mortality. People with absolutely nothing working together to find a better life. I cared for their wounds and ailments, even delivered a child for a woman with nowhere else to go. She's a waitress now, and has her own apartment. The human spirit is an amazing thing; until it's broken. That's the medicine I wish someone would discover."

"Escort in English means...?"

Silvio asked without judgment, just clarification.

"It sounds like you've had quite the journey. When you speak of broken human spirits, I hope you do not refer to yourself, but the others you have seen?"

"Oh, escort... a date, for hire. I would accompany men to parties or dinners as their date for the evening. Sometimes events, sometimes they just wanted company. Either way, it paid well."

In her mind, Emily was trying to find a way to keep the conversation away from herself. Maybe it was the months of hiding, or simply the paranoia of being back in her personal frying pan. Casually, she poured herself more of the wine and made a stab at changing the course of conversation. 

"This is a strange place, my friend. The good guys are the bad guys, and the bad guys more often than not turn out to be the heroes. So, what brings you to America's most extravagant desert?" 

"Ah, I imagine you fetched the highest of prices. Any man would rightfully spend on a fortune to spend a few hours in your company."

She dodged the second question, of course. Americans. So private. 

"This is a strange place, my friend. The good guys are the bad guys, and the bad guys more often than not turn out to be the heroes. So, what brings you to America's most extravagant desert?"

"Ah, it appears I am a hero, of course. Mostly... I am in...  profunda merda. Deep shit, as you Americans say. It is a long, tragic tale. Suffice to say that I have fallen in love with someone I should not have loved. And in loving her successfully, I angered her father, who had a habit of killing men who did so. And so here I am, forlorn and alone, hunted by those who wish to see me killed for no crime at all. What trouble are you in?"

He shrugged, pouring a half glass of wine.

"After all, you keep glancing to the door as well. You are either in love and waiting for someone or you in trouble, no?"

Coincidence was something that Emily Renfroe found it very hard to believe in. If you have enough information and the capacity to put two and two together, coincidence just wasn't a reality. Still, in front of her sat a man on the run, just like her, that had ended up at a piano bar on the edge of Vegas, just like her. 

Going with her gut, Emily decided that now was as good a time as any to start gathering allies. Silvio was no dim-witted Romeo. He had a keen sense. She sat her half - empty glass o in the table just to her right and folded her hands in her lap. 

"As it happens, I am being hunted as well. It's not for anything I've done, exactly; rather, for what I know."

Emily paused, considering that the less he knew, the safer he'd be. 

"Men become surprisingly loose lipped in the throes of lust and alcohol. It's like they think their money bought my silence, or that I wasn't bright enough to use anything the let slip. The g-men were the most foolish. Cocky; as if I'm would be impressed by their power and dark secrets."

She cracked a small smile, shaking her head. 

​​​​​​"The bad guys are the ones who say they protect us. I know better, and I'm tired of hiding. I'm going to expose the rot under the surface, or I'll die trying."

Silvio grinned as he glanced up at Emily.

"You are right, of course. People talk too much under the influence of alcohol or beauty. This is why I do not lie; a wise man once said 'If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.'"

"G-men. Government, yes? I can see why you'd be concerned. May I ask, how will you expose this rot? Newspapers? Some other government body?"

He was serious, but he couldn't say the word 'body' without his eyes flicking down and appraising Emily's. He grinned as he leaned back in his seat.

In all fairness, four months without touching alcohol had taken a bite out of her once decent tolerance of alcohol. Her senses were warm, if not ever so slightly dulled; so she wasn't sure if he leaned so heavily on the word "body" as it seemed. But she did know for certain that his eyes were wandering. That was gratifying, admittedly, after being hidden behind bulky robes. 

Emily shrugged in reply to his query, absently letting a slender finger trace delicate circles on the table top. Her clear blue eyes blinked slowly, perhaps sensually, looking over his well-defined features and smooth, olive toned skin. 

"To tell you the truth, I don't know. How does one marked woman fight the Federal Bureau of Investigation? They have eyes and ears everywhere. That's why I've been hiding for the past few months..."

She smirked mischievously. 

"...As a nun."

"Mio dio..."

He crossed himself with a smirk.

"... I have no doubt you brought many souls to God. Were you in a cloister? Or something perhaps more open? A smart place to hide, regardless."

Pondering her question, he shrugged.

"As for fighting the FBI... this is... how do you say it?... above my pay grade. Still, I am quite good at hiding. Perhaps you need a few days to relax somewhere? If we can scrounge up enough money, I know a very private hotel nearby. It has excellent security, has many fun things to do, and no one uses their real names. It is where many of the famous take their girlfriends when they need a break from their wives."

He smirked.

"I am sure we could find a way to amuse ourselves. Or three."

Laughing, Emily finished her third glass of wine and pushed it w away. Now was a good time to stop, while her inhibitions were the only thing slipping away. 

"That sounds amazing. You can't imagine how long it's been since I've really been able to relax."

Emily leaned forward, resting on her elbows as the plunging neckline of her dress revealed just a little more. 

"Let's pretend money is of no concern. You're proposing that we enjoy this little getaway...together?" 

​​​​​​

Silvio smirked.

"Well, it would be the smart thing to do. As I said, this particular place caters to men cheating on their wives. I suppose it is possible that a single woman could get a room there... but perhaps less likely, I think. And more suspicious. What word... conspicuous. Also, would you not be lonely? Think of the large, luxurious bath tubs. Do you not need someone to scrub your back?"

He shrugged.

"It is where I would go to hide. I have been considering it myself, since I've newly arrived here. It may be wise for me to lay low as well. If you prefer, we can go get some money together first if you'd like. Take it from a bank or a club or somewhere. I have no problem proving myself to such a beautiful woman. Consider me... properly motivated."

"You can prove yourself other ways. No need to draw unneeded attention just for a little vacation money."

Taking her hand bag from beside her, she opened it and took a modest roll of large bills into her palm. Turning to old tricks of her trade in escorting, she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. To outsiders, it would simply look like two young people having an intimate moment. Emily pressed the roll of cash into his hands. 

"Call this a consulting fee. I've just hired you to hide me."

Silvio polished off his wine, stood up, and straightened his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he winked at Emily.

"Silvio Violante is on the job."

_______

The Rancho Grande was one of the newest hotels in Las Vegas, and it was the first self contained resort. There was a heavy security presence at the entrance area and a high, solid wooden fence surrounding it to keep its guests hidden from any prying cameras. Outside of that, it was exceedingly welcoming. The blocked off outside area of the resort sported a flower garden with intricate walking paths, a swimming pool and lounge area, some outdoor gaming tables. Inside the main building, there were gaming tables and a dance hall for guests to enjoy themselves as well. Everything a wealthy couple would need for a private getaway.

The suites themselves were luxurious; Emily's room was on the fourth floor and had a small balcony. There was an extremely large bathtub and a king sized bed as well- which Silvio fell back onto as he walked into the room.

"Now this. This is a room that I like. And it is only made more perfect by your presence, Emily."