Silvio Violante was a lover, not a fighter. 

Still, if one loved long enough and passionately enough, they almost always had to fight sooner or later.

It wasn't that he was a stranger to combat; rather, it was the arena that was strange to him. He felt comfortable enough in a barroom brawl or a scrap in the streets, but there was a big difference between that and sitting in a cafe with a gun in your pocket. The revolver felt like it was weighing him down and, for a moment, he imagined that everyone passing by could look at his face and tell that he was carrying. How foolish and how childish he felt- but his fear chilled him at his core in a way that the wine could not warm.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Silvio had built himself a good life.  He could walk into any poker game or bar in Venezia and someone would shout out a greeting. He was a man who made introductions, who made connections.

It was his most recent connection that had gotten him into trouble. 

______

Giulia Mattaranzi was the most beautiful and most sought after woman in Venice, and Silvio Violante was... well, simply beautiful. In a more just world, thought Silvio, the entire city would simply realize that Giulia and he were perfect for each other and part before them like the sea for Israel. But this was no just world.

Unfortunately, Silvio's lean muscular physique had no accompanying monetary gain associated with it. His hazel eyes had attracted many women to gaze into their depths, but there was no pot of gold beneath them. His easy, charming smile had opened many doors for him- but few bank vaults. 

And meanwhile, Giulia Mattaranzi slept alone; high in her white tower, the eldest daughter of Venice's richest businessman was locked up tighter than the British crown jewels. 

Silvio had learned only three ways to reach her.

The first was Sunday mass, where he had first caught sight of her. A heavenly vision, her blond curls bounced gently as she walked up the aisle. Silvio's mouth had dropped open. He had seen many women, but Giulia Mattaranzi was the most beautiful he had ever seen. If Raphael, Michelangelo, and Botticelli had all worked together to create the perfect woman, their creation would pale next to Giulia. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her smile encompassed heaven and hell. And her body... well, who the hell could truly know under all those layers? But he could sense a body yearning to break free of its prisons. That first day, she'd exited past Silvio's aisle seat and all he could do was stare. Seeing his open mouth, she laughed- musically, wonderfully.

Silvio became a devout churchgoer, which was a strange turn for a thief and a gambler. The second week he saw her, he managed a smile. On the third, he winked and smiled. Their wordless courtship continued for two months, until he finally steeled himself for the test. On that day, he left his usual seat empty and waited further back- and saw her look for him and fail to find him. She frowned, and it felt like he'd destroyed a priceless artwork, but her smile got even wider when he cleared his throat and earned her gaze. That was the day her... assistant, nurse, bodyguard, servant of the devil, what have you, had noticed him as well. And that was the end of his silent flirtations. The next week, and every week after, Giulia walked out with her eyes downcast- even as the middle aged woman who was to become to scourge of Silvio's existence smiled triumphantly. 

The second way to reach her was one of the famous dinner parties her father threw each weekend. Silvio tried bluffing his way in and was turned away at the door. He tried to get a job as an extra waiter, but the final interview was with the Demon Nurse, who laughed and had him thrown out.

The third way was her custom of going for confession every other Saturday afternoon. The demon nurse watched over her charge like a hawk as they, always accompanied by one of Signor Mattaranzi's guards. No, it had been impossible to reach her on the road. 

So Silvio sat in the dark, acting as the conduit for God as he waited to corrupt an angel. 

The small foot by foot window slid open again.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been-"

Silvio sighed.

"Just get to the sins, friend."

"I... okay. I... wrath, sir. Wrath and lust. And Pride."

Silvio waited, intrigued, until the man spoke again.

"I suspect my wife has been cheating on me, Father."

"Oh?"

"Ye-yes. I cannot prove anything, but I suspect she has brought another man into our bed. My wife is younger than me, and though I buy her anything she wishes, covering our houses with mirrors-"

Mirrors? Cazzo.

"... just not satisfied."

"Uh, what makes you suspect your wife, my... son?"

"A sock, Father. I found a sock hidden in the sheets, and it is not mine or hers. She professes that it must have gotten tangled in the laundry but-"

"Is it blue?"

"Mio dio! How did you know, Father?"

"Well... God works in mysterious ways, my son. Now you must listen. Do you love your wife?"

"I... yes, I do."

"Then go home and love your wife. I mean, really love your wife. Do not climb on top of her like an old goat mounting a rock. Tell her that she is in control. Do whatever she tells you, and you'll see how she- uh, and... pray. A lot. Next."

There was a long pause.

"I said next."

"Thank- thank you, Father."

The man sounded confused as he left. His poor wife. Silvio sighed, but soon found adrenaline coursing through his veins as he saw a flash of gold through the grated confessional. Her voice, like honey, slipped through the small holes in the wall and glided toward his ears.

"Bless me-"

"I will."

"Father?"

"No, bella donna. Your other friend from church. The man in the 37th row."

"... but how?"

"Fate, mio caro. It can only be fate. I burn for you. Every week, this church is packed with those who seek heaven, but I rejoice, for I have already found it in your eyes."

"But are you as bold as you are handsome, signore?"

"... yes."

I think. If I were to say I am twice as bold, would she question my handsomeness? Or the ludicrous nature of the nature? But half would be...

"Yes, I am."

"And what is your name."

"Silvio."

"Giulia."

I know.

"What would you have me do, Giulia?"

"I will leave my windows unlocked tonight."

"That is enough. Say your evening prayers late this evening, Giulia. And for your penance... take a nap. You will not sleep much tonight."

_______

Silvio had climbed many walls in his day, usually to steal jewels or a safe. Occasionally, there was a theft of virtue involved as well. Sighing, Silvio reached out with his foot and pushed the window open, gently lowering herself and climbing in the room. What he saw inside nearly killed him on the spot: Giulia Mattaranzi, sitting in a silk robe and combing out her hair. For a moment, transfixed, he stood and watched her. Catlike, he moved to her, and he saw her tense up for a moment before she recognized the shadow behind her.

"Quiet. Let's hope you were as quiet getting in."

"When I get in, dearest Giulia, silence becomes hard to maintain."

"Well, let's hope everything involved maintains its hardness then, no?"

Silvio froze. Did she just...?

"Giulia, I have dreamed of no one but you for weeks. A single touch of your-"

"... do you really want to be talking right now?"

"I... you... what?"

Giulia finished brushing her hair, stood up, and nonchalantly stepped out of her robe.

Silvio, acting out of instinct, crossed himself quickly.

Giulia's perfect, tanned arms slid around his neck as she pressed up against him, whispering in his ear.

"My father will almost certainly kill you tomorrow. Don't you want to enjoy your last evening?"

In retrospect, Silvio should have asked some clarifying questions about his imminent death. Instead, he took her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

_______

It was clear within the first thirty seconds that it wasn't Giulia's first time. He was foolish to think so. Her beauty was matched only by her deviance and passion in bed, and he could tell she enjoyed his shock; he wasn't the first to think he would take her virginity. 

Still, he could feel her own surprise as one master recognized another; as they entwined throughout the night, they first seemed to be fighting a war against each other to determine who would emerge victorious. Then, like opposing generals, they developed a mutual respect for each other. At last, they simply enjoyed each other's company. They alternated screwing, drinking, talking, and teasing until the sun began to rise in the sky. Finally, Silvio thought to ask.

"How is it that I'm going to be killed today? Couldn't I leave quietly and-?"

Giulia shook her head.

"My father always finds them. I don't know how. Every single man who has ever shared my bed has died within 24 hours. And how I wish that weren't so with you, Silvio. We could really have some fun. Even more than tonight, you know?"

Silvio nodded, suddenly concerned.

"How do you know they're all dead? Maybe he just wants to make it seem like-"

"He shows me their bodies."

"Ah."

"I'm sorry, Silvio. It was already too late when you got here. That was one hell of a night, though."

_______

After kissing Giulia goodbye and expressing a wish to see her again that received only a sad smile from her, Silvio talked himself out of believing the worst. She couldn't be telling the truth.

Until he asked around, and found out that there'd been seventeen men and one woman executed in the last three years.

Well.

The people he asked for information, on finding out what he'd done, looked at him like he was already dead- worse, they looked at him like he had the plague, and they just wanted him out. 

He was tempted to go to ground in Venezia. Who knew the city better than him? Who had more friends? But some of the men who'd visited Giulia had been much more powerful than him and...

It took him nearly eight hours and dodging the first assassin to conclude that he needed to run. Really run.

And so he found himself in a cafe, carrying a stolen pistol, as a middle aged man walked past him and dropped an envelope onto the table. Silvio sighed as he picked it up.

Las Vegas.

Where the hell was Las Vegas?

If there was one thing Silvio could do, it was stealth. His last day in Venice was the longest day of his life. He could see Mattaranzi guards, bounty hunters, and assassins raking through the streets, and it took every ounce of skill he'd inherited and acquired for Silvio to stay one step away from their blades. 

At first, he was consumed by fear as panic repeatedly gripped his heart. Every flight out of Venezia was booked until midnight- surely not a coincidence. 

The first few times he saw a killer coming for him, his terror gripped him. But after a while... he became used to it. His stress had rung him so thin that there was no substance left for his worries or fears. Instead, it became a game. Of course they would kill him, eventually. But he would make them work for it.

Twice they saw him and forced him to run and lose them in the crowd. But largely, he melted into the alleys and streets he'd spent his entire life navigating. 

By dinner, he was more tired than he'd ever been in his life- but he was also more exhilarated. And reckless.

And so as the sun set over Venezia, Silvio found himself once again climbing the wall outside of Giulia Mattaranzi's bedroom. This was, he thought, the last place anyone would be looking. He sighed as he walked into the empty room. The bed was made up perfectly, which caused Silvio to grin. If only the servants had seen what had taken place on those sheets, they would faint. Or cross themselves.

Yawning, Silvio reclined on the bad and waited. When he fell asleep, he didn't even realize it was happening.

"Cazzo!"

Where was-? That didn't sound like Giulia. Silvio opened his eyes to see the nurse glaring down at him in shock. As she took a step to ring the bell and summon assistance, Silvio lurched off the bed and through an awkward punch that laid the middle aged woman out on the floor. The woman rolled and held her head as Silvio winced and held his hand. 

Merda.

Silvio went to the nightstand and removed the handcuffs that he knew were waiting there before dragging the semi-conscious woman to the closet and cuffing her hands together. Rope from the nightstand bound her firmly, but not so tight as to cause any permanent damage. 

Reaching into his pocket, Silvio took out the gun and held it in front of her, glancing at his own reflection in the polished silver plating. He glared at the old woman.

"I do not wish to hurt you, but I will if you make any noise at all. You understand?"

She nodded.

Sighing, Silvio stood and closed the closet door. Then he returned to the bed to wait for Giulia. He reclined, flexed his hand, and hoped that she wouldn't make him wait much longer. Soon, as the adrenaline ebbed from him, he fell asleep once again.

Silvio awoke in Giulia's bed.

In truth, it was more accurate to say that he awoke in Giulia.

He blinked, convinced he must dreaming as the blond vision finished lowering herself onto him. He opened his mouth to speak and she stopped him with a kiss. A few minutes later, she rolled off him and rested her chin on her elbow as she studied him. In church, she was distractedly beautiful. Naked and relaxed, she seemed to be otherworldly. She purred as she spoke to him.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you again. I think this is a new survival record. And no one has ever made it back to me for a second rendezvous."

"Giulia, you should know by now that I have many gifts."

She laughed.

"What, did you give my father's hunters a good enough screwing that they're leaving you alone."

He sighed as she rested her cheek against his chest.

"Not exactly. I've had to use every trick I know and invent some new ones to stay alive. I'm fortunate that I have so much practice running and hiding. But I figured this was the last place they'd look for me."

She nodded as he continued.

"In a few hours, I leave for America. Las Vegas. They call it the City of Sin. You would fit in perfectly there."

Giulia laughed, mock-wickedly, as she raised her head and turned to rest her hands under her chin. As she raised her feet behind her, Silvio couldn't help forget what he'd just said.

"Is that an invitation, Signor Violante?"

"You would leave all this? Your father is one of the wealthiest men in Italia. He-"

"My father is a warden, and I am a prisoner. What price is worth a person's freedom?"

Silvio considered the room, covered in gold.

"I suppose you may be right, Giulia. Do you want to go with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

The next couple hours were spent alternately enjoying themselves and preparing. There was a train station close by, and they planned to jump onto a departing train with just enough time to make it to the airport- and then to America.

Giulia looked around and sighed at her room as she finished packing her small bag. 

"You see, Giulia, you don't want to leave these things."

"It's still my home. I can want to leave and still feel strange at saying goodbye to it. When my mother was alive... things were happy here."

Silvio nodded, understanding but not saying more. He was content to leave Giulia in her memories. When she was done packing, they crept out onto the balcony. Silvio climbed down first, and it took all of his willpower to avoid making a comment as he looked up and helped Giulia reach the ground as well. 

If Silvio was good at anything, it was stealth. He led Giulia like a pair of shadows through the gardens, dodging guards and stealing kisses. 

An hour later they were on a train heading south, holding hands in the moonlight and building their future in furtive whispers.

Silvio and Giulia held hands as they made their way to the airport, but dropped them to look more inconspicuous as they realized how much security was present. They spent the next 45 minutes ducking in and out of shops and bathrooms and closets trying to avoid the patrolling guards, but when they reached the terminal Silvio felt his stomach drop out of him. It was impossible. There were just too many. 

He ducked back behind the corner and slumped against the wall. 

Giulia peeked around the corner as well, and Silvio saw her face fall too.

"Well, I suppose that's the, Silvio. It would have been fun."

She leaned forward and kissed him, long enough and passionately enough that he forgot they were in public. But then she'd broken away and walked across to the other side of the terminal- enough to draw attention. She approached one of the guards to shout at him and, as they recognized her, the other guards converged on her position. Silvio had just enough space to make a run for it- and he did- but he was looking back the whole time. His last image of her was when she ripped off her hair scarf and let her golden hair fall. And then he was in the tunnel, and in his new life.

_______

As the plane rose over Italia, Silvio Violante considered the three rules that had guided him since he had been a young man. There was a new rule, and it was etched at the top of the list. He spoke it as the lights below him grew smaller.

"Giulia Mattaranzi is the goddess of my heart..."

When she'd been surrounded by her father's men at the airport, Giulia felt like a chess piece- an extremely valuable object. Her father's attitude was positively medieval and now more than ever she despaired at ever escaping; for a moment she thought about screaming, running, or grabbing one of their guns and trying to shoot herself. The thought had its appeal, though the rational part of her brain quickly dismissed it. 

As she silently walked through the airport, flanked by six guards, she caught a glimpse of herself in a windowpane. It was the right look, but the wrong context: in America, she'd be at least a Boss, if not running her own crew, but to her father she'd never be anything more than a potential solidification of an alliance through marriage. And with all of her father's enemies destroyed... well, she might be waiting for quite a while. So the image of the powerful woman flanked by her guards- that would have to wait.

She was nineteen now. How long would it be until she was free of her father? Would she simply waste away if no cause for an alliance occurred? As she returned to her bed and her nufse helped her out of her clothes- no doubt those would be burned for being scandalous- and into her nightgown, Giulia's thoughts turned to Silvio. 

What could they have been in Vegas? Was he even alive now? Would she ever see him again?

With a sigh, Giulia slid into her bed. Her racing mind kept her away deep into the night. She only received some comfort when she decided to write a letter to Las Vegas, hoping that it would reach its recipient.

As dawn broke over Las Vegas, Silvio was still sleeping; in fact, he'd just gone to bed a few hours before. He was a heavy sleeper, and it wasn't until almost noon that he finally yawned and rolled out of bed. Lurching into the kitchen for coffee, he noticed that someone had slid a letter under his door. Had it been there this morning? Was it there when he'd stumbled in from his carousing? He picked it up and read it out loud.

My dearest Silvio,

My friends tell me that even if you live, that even if this letter reaches you, it will still be weeks until you receive it. Who knows what will become of you by then? Or me? Although I have found a way to send you this letter, I hope, it is far too risky for you to try to send anything back to me. 

In some ways, I feel foolish even writing to you. We shared two wonderful days together. When I think of these days, even in my coldest, most bitter moments, I feel a warmth spreading through me that keeps me going. I have never met a person who understood me so intuitively. I can only hope that you feel a shadow of the same from your distant city.

Are you alive? Have you forgotten me?

I can only hope that Las Vegas is kinder to you than Venezia is to me. My father is the most powerful man in this city; as I spent time with you, I realized the great injustice being done to me. I should be standing at my father's side as his right hand- or at least his left- but instead I am locked up. Even the lowest thug on his payroll is treated better than I am. My father will never listen to me; my concerns are dismissed as quickly as I can raise them.  No, if I want to assume my rightful place at his side, I need to show him what I can do- despite his infuriating insistence that I remain an object under guard.

My first step was to get my nurse removed. I had thought her enthusiasm for protecting me was born out of care. It was not. I planted enough money to have my father send her away as a thief. My new "overseer" is much more sympathetic to me. I am also making an effort to charm my father's guards. The older ones would follow my father to hell; the young ones seem much more interested in me.

In short, while I suppose that there is chance this blows up in my face, I am laying the steps to challenge my father- not to replace him, but to show him that I am worthy of more than how he has treated me.

As for us, Silvio, do not come back to Venezia unless you hear from me. I understand that rumors about me abounded in the city... but there were only two men before you. Both were killed- and the same fate waits for you, perhaps ever where you are now. 

I'd like to believe that my father is content with your exile, but who can say for sure what lengths he would go to?

Keep yourself safe.

As for me, I have chosen to modify my name to fit my new life and my new goals.

Yours,

Lia

Silvio read it three times before he folded it and opened his secret box hidden under a floorboard. 

Lia.

He sighed. He couldn't reply; all he could do was wait.

Well this was quite the pickle. 

Lia stood awkwardly over the sewer grate, her Italian-leather heel wedged firmly between the teeth of two of its bars. The more she pulled at it, the more the cursed thing seemed to sink further down towards the odious scent of New York's waste. It had been a nerve-wracking trip from Venice to America, not to mention expensive. Her plan to circumvent any of her father's men by zigzagging through multiple countries had been successful so far... that was, until this sewer grate. If she couldn't free herself of its pungent metal grasp, she would surely miss her last, liberating flight to the City of Sin.

More importantly, to Silvio Violante. Handsome, dashing, and resourceful, she was sure that he could help her get a, ahem, foothold in the life she knew she was destined to succeed in. If only she could free herself of this grate... her plane left in less than half an hour! Lia's face brightened as a tall, uniformed man headed over to her. Rescue!

"Oh, thank goodness, I thought I might have to abandon my shoe!" She smiled up at him as he knelt before her. Was his hand lingering a little too long on her calf as he eased her foot free? No time to worry herself over it... she had a plane to catch! 

Although...

Feigning an unbalancing act as he stood up before her, Lia grabbed on to him, dipping one hand into his uniform coat pocket and liberating his wallet with a swift, smooth motion that she'd been practicing the entire trip. She was getting pretty good at it too, if she did say so herself.
"Thank you, Sig- Sir," she gushed at him. She had been trying to drop her Italian, accent and all, but still slipped up from time to time. "Without your help, I would most certainly miss my plane!" She exclaimed as she pushed away from him. He began to tip his hat at her, but she was already gone.
-

No one had mentioned the heat. New York had a smell, but Las Vegas felt like a blast-furnace. Dry, flat land had welcomed Lia from the door of the plane. She was completely exhausted from her travels, and she intended to go straight to a hotel, but the second the taxicab turned onto The Strip, adrenaline shot through her. Even in the daylight, Las Vegas was mesmerizing. So busy, with so many people bustling in and out of the flashy-looking buildings! Expensive cars deposited fur-trimmed women and suited men into the hands of waiting doorman, and when Lia saw the sign for Pair-O-Dice, she knew she had to stop. 

"Here, please, Sig- Sir! Gr- Thank you," she said, handing him the wad of cash that had come from the uniformed man's wallet, earlier. She hadn't bothered to count it, so when the driver didn't yell after her, she assumed she'd covered the cost and, in all likelihood, way too much in tip. She'd only made it out of Italy with so much of her father's money... she really should be more mindful of things. 

That was, of course, almost impossible to do when one is standing inside the cool air of a Las Vegas casino for the very first time. A woman bumped into her and she shook herself, now aware that she looked every bit the rube as she stood there slack-jawed, the slots and roulette wheels jangling and purring their magical noise at her. Looking to her right, she spotted an enclave with a lone piano player, surrounded by several empty tables. She took one, and ordered a club soda from a woman wearing downright scandalous garb that made Lia smile to herself.

If her father could see her now... 
The waitress returned with her drink, even lighting Lia's cigarette for her after she pulled one from her pack. Settling back into the upholstered chair, she wondered what her next move should be. She'd managed to get this far, no small feat, but finding Silvio Violante inside one of the numerous facets of this gem in the desert might take a while. She would have to be discreet, careful. Lucky.
If I were him, she thought to herself, where would I be? Lia watched another barely-uniformed waitress walk by with a tray of cigarettes. 
Hip deep in that, no doubt, she laughed quietly.

Lia heard Silvio before she saw him; it was an endless stream of Italian invectives that rolled through the casino floor like floodwaters. After a while, when he did come into view, he was being carried by a pair of large men. Each man had hold of one of his arms, dragging him back towards the entrance... or in this case, the exit.

"Che dici? Io baro per vincere? Non ho mai tradito! Non ho bisogno di imbrogliare per batterti! Posso barare con tua moglie, ma non baro mai con le carte! Sei un imbroglione sporco! L'unica ragione per cui mi sconfiggi è buttandomi fuori, perché altrimenti stavo uscendo con tutto nel tuo puzzolente portafoglio! Vaffanculo! Fottiti, mamma! Fanculo a tua sorella! Fanculo al tuo gatto! Gli dei del gioco d'azzardo ti malediranno per questo, imbrogli il coglione!"

As he was dragged past Lia, his mouth dropped in stunned silence for a moment, then he started fighting like an animal to get up and run over to her- but the two men were too strong for him, and dragged him out the door.

"Lia! Is that you?! Am I dead? I- you- what- meet me outside! Please!"

Then the doors slammed shut behind him.

Such language! Did the man she heard yelling just tell someone to fornicate with a pet? Was this how things ran in America, or was it simply the sun-baked ravings of some poor fool who'd just lost every last pen-

Lia gaped at Silvio as he was dragged past her and out the door. Standing now, she pulled money from her purse and left it on the table for the waitress, her still-burning cigarette now forgotten and smouldering in the ashtray behind her as she followed the men out onto the sidewalk. By the time she'd arrived, the casino employees were already heading back inside, having dumped Silvio at the curb like so much trash. Blinking down at him, she fought off a smile. Clothes askew and hair tousled...it brought back a very clear, very fond memory of him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Signor," she said, losing the battle now and smiling hugely at him. She offered her hand to help him up, not letting go of it once he was back on his feet.

"I would suggest we share a meal, or a drink, but it does not look as though we will be doing that here," she said, and a glance back at the door showed that she was correct- one of the two men that had tossed Silvio out stood glaring out at them now, arms crossed across his barrel of a chest.

"I'm afraid 'My place, or yours?' doesn't quite work, either, as I don't have one just yet," she added as people pushed past them on the sidewalk and the sun beat down from the nearly colorless sky above. 

Silvio had never been more confused in his entire life. He blinked, wondering if someone had shot him. The afterlife? Was he hallucinating? But he rest toward her hand, she helped him up and was solid. Flesh and blood.

"Mio Dio... Lia... what are you doing here? How is this possible? How did you escape? My God, I-"

He leaned forward, kissing her passionately as his hands found the small of her back. No fewer than three women gave them judgmental looks on their way walking past them, whereas the men just looked at Lia and smiled.

"A meal? A drink? A thousand meals, a thousand drinks... I cannot believe that you are here- that you are real. Come, there is a little place I visit across the street."

He took her hand, looking down at it and planting a kiss on her knuckles before leading her across the street to a speakeasy. Downstairs, he got them a booth in a corner, absentmindedly ordering a pinot noir and giving Lia the chance to order what she wanted.

"You must tell me everything, Lia. How did you escape? How did you get here to Las Vegas? How did you find me? How is Venezia?"

He furrowed his brow in curiosity. 

"Is your father dead?"

A wave of her fingers indicated to the waiter that she'd have what the gentleman was having. When he departed, she spoke, answering the questions he peppered her with. 

"How did I get here? I likely could not replicate that trip if I tried. Many planes, many trains, many countries, Silvio. I hope it buys me enough time," she said, her brow furrowing, then smoothing out again. 

"I didn't exactly find you, Signor. That was pure happenstance. 'Fanculo al tuo gatto' are not words you hear every day... at least, not from you, or in that particular order," she said quietly, the heat in her gaze disappearing as the waiter arrived with their cocktails. When he left once more, she continued on.

"Things remained the same after you left. If anything, my father's grip on the city has tightened more. Even 

Il Dittatore is on his payroll now!" She whispered loudly, although no one was close enough to hear her. 

"What choice did I have but to run? We both know what my fate would have been if I stayed," she said, lifting her glass and examining the color of the pinot, but not yet drinking it. 

"And where else was I going to go?" Her nose dipped into the glass as she inhaled. The wine smelled of vinegar, nothing close to what she was used to back home, but she took a polite sip anyway, her face impassive.

"You, Silvio Violante, are all I've got. Well, you and the contents of my father's safe that I managed to crack before I left," she stated proudly. 

She was born for this kind of life, and she was going to do well at it if it killed her.

Silvio hadn't let go of her hand since she'd offered it to him to help him stand up. He traced patterns over her knuckles with a light touch, drinking with his other hand and listening to every word of her story.

"Lia... I cannot express my joy at seeing you here. I thought... I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd see you in some paper getting married or getting killed... I still can't believe you're sitting across from me."

He clinked his glass against hers.

"You will love this city. It is... dirty. But charming. Like us, no?"

He smirked.

"I have made some friends here. Good connections. I run a club, Lia. No, we run a club. What's mine is yours. And I have an investor, a woman whose acquaintance I made. She financed the club and is a co-owner; I am sure that if you have other business ideas... anything you dream... well, we could talk to her as well."

Silvio paused.

"Do you have plans here? You will stay with me... well, we will get a hotel. My current apartment is a... pezzo di merda. I am almost never there. It is a place to shower and sleep, so I sought to avoid spending too much. But if it is for both of us? It is worth spending the money. You will stay with me, Lia, as we make our fortune here?"

He paused. They had only known each other two days... they were the best two days of his life, and he had romanticized them perhaps, but Lia had come to him, hadn't she? She must feel the same- or at least something like it.

Lia let out a breath that she'd been unaware she'd been holding. She had had no way of knowing if Silvio really would be willing to help her, assuming she'd even find him to begin with. The short time they'd spent together had been wonderful, amazing, too good to be true... but there was no guarantee that he hadn't moved on to the next woman, even as he'd moved on to the next country. She really had run to Las Vegas on a wing and a prayer.

Now, as she watched him across the table while he spoke, she let her eyes drop to his lips. 

"...stay with me, Lia, as we make our fortune here?"

"I..." Stay with him? Was he crazy? He'd be a sitting duck the day her father found her.

The nights, though. The nights. Another sigh, and she blinked her eyes, clearing her vision. 

"I...well, alright. I insist on paying my own way, though!" She spoke quickly, trying to change the direction of her thoughts even as heat climbed up her neck. She tugged at a collar that wasn't there and sipped again at her wine. 

"Might you have a job for me?" She asked, then began to choke at the implications of her question.

Silvio grinned.

"I'm sure we can think of something..."

Finally, for the first time since she'd helped him up, he released her hand, half expecting her to drift away like some sort of fever dream. When she didn't, he raised his glass to her.

"Here's to a new beginning, then."