Turning towards the train she spoke to her shadow, Crupi.  “Well, whatcha thinking? Regretting coming along with us yet?  I’m sure there has got to be some old fat Don somewhere who would pay you twice as much as my mother is with half the danger and travel time.”

“I have had my fill of old, fat dons. Perhaps we can find a balance, where you still do more exciting things, but get shot at less often. Or at least remember to take a bodyguard when you do.”

Tara smiled.  “The one time I got shot at, and you weren’t there.  There does seem to be a lesson to take away from that, doesn’t there?  Alright, from now on, you don’t leave my side, how does that sound?”

“Sounds very wise for you.” said Crupi, following along behind her.

***

Bari, located on the east coast of Italy, was the capital of the Apulia region. A port city, it contained a mix of the rich, the educated, the poor, and the working class. But no one in any of those groups was there to see the small band of people slip out of a train car at 3 AM. Laurent, Tara, Brigitte, Dr. Magnotti, Crupi, and Jo made their way to the cheap hotel that would be their temporary base of operations. Renato, as usual, blended into the streets. He was gone for hours and didn’t return until mid-morning. As the others awoke and began eating a small breakfast, Renato briefed them.

Tara smiled brightly at the sight of breakfast - it had been TOO long since she’d sat down with those she cared about to enjoy a proper morning meal - the very heart of the Mastrosimone family.

“Well, Bianchi’s partner is dead. Rex wasn’t lying about that. Barzini was the guy’s name; he was sitting down for a late night drink with his wife when a shot from a rifle blew his brains out.”

Brigitte came out of the bedroom at the sound of voices and beamed at the sight of eggs and toast. She ran immediately to Renato and kissed him full on the lips. “You hunk of a man, you made BREAKFAST!”

Renato was stunned into silence for a moment, then grinned and rested his hands behind his head, flashing a victorious smile in Laurent’s direction.

“I know! I nearly did the same thing before remembering that I…”  Tara’s voice trailed off into a fork full of food.  

“Remembering that you what?” asked Jo. “Sorry to be nosy. Don’t have to answer, but you can’t blame me for being curious. Actually no, I’m not sorry for being nosy. But you still don’t have to answer.”

Tara swallowed her food and looked to Jo.  “Considering you’re all here, risking your lives for me… maybe I do owe you an explanation.”  She said grabbing another piece of toast and beginning to butter it.

She glanced to Brigitte who was keeping a straight face and paying attention to her breakfast more than to her sister.

“Oriana Montini is more than my friend.”  She said cautiously, as if testing the waters, as if there was a half-way in admitting something like this.  And yet, that was what she was trying to do. She waited to see if anyone seemed to get it before she finished the statement.  “Or, I want her to be. I … care about her a great deal more than you’ve been lead to believe by my mother.” Tara’s eyes drifted first to Crupi trying to measure the man’s reaction. Crupi had no reaction.

Seeing and hearing no response from anyone, Tara stood up.  “I… thanks for breakfast. I need some air.” With that Tara started walking outside to get out of the way of the silent stares for a bit.

“Tara!” said Jo. “It’s fine. I was just… surprised.”

“I was just disappointed, if I’m being honest,” said Renato.

“Forget I said anything," said Tara.  "Really. This is a bad man, doing bad things, to good people… we’re here to stop him.  Everything else is secondary.”

“Obviously not,” said Crupi, “you thought it important enough to mention. But I am sure that all of us, regardless of our feelings, appreciate your show of trust in us. We will keep your secret, and it is good to know more about the situation.”

Tara nodded at the words of her companions.  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Brigitte shook her head. “Well you don’t love her more than me, and that’s all that matters.” She flashed her winning smile to her sister and stood to pull her into an embrace.

Tara sighed and rolled her eyes, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.  “Yes, well, everyone loves you Brigitte… but, for what it’s worth, I… thought you all should know because I’ve asked so much of you.  You’ve all done just as you said you would and more. You started on this journey with me as hired hands… but you’re friends now. Family.  I wanted you to know that when the moment comes, I might have reason to hesitate if things aren’t going as we hope. And I meant what I said back in the first city we were in… I don’t expect any of you to die trying not to kill her, if she’s trying to kill you.”

“Why do you think she will try to kill you?” asked Laurent.

“Francesco Bianchi isn’t just bringing in young women and training them to be assassins," said Tara. "He’s … also has been implied torturing children.  He’s breaking them, molding them, and in ways that are comparable to what shell shock did to men after the Great War. Oriana isn’t well, she hasn’t been away from her war long enough to be well.  And now she’s back there… this whole time we’ve been searching for her, every minute, every hour, every day she’s in his grip - the further away from me she’s slipping. She came here to stop him from doing this to other girls.  To avenge her sisters… but he has her now and I don’t know if she can come back to us or not. I don’t know if the woman we’ll find there will be capable of fighting at our side or if, worse, she fights for him against all of us.”

“I wish you luck in not only finding this girl, but that she is still the person you remember,” said Laurent. “Based on the handiwork of hers that we have seen so far, the prospect of her as an enemy is an unsettling one. Trying to take an opponent like her alive would be… problematic.”

Tara nodded slowly.  “I know.” She whispered.  “It’s been something I’ve been contemplating this entire time.  I … am accepting of the fact that freeing her might not be the same as bringing her home.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Jo with a smile. “I mean, things have been going pretty well so far, right? Having Viola die was sad, of course, but we’re all still here at least.”

“Mostly,” said Brigitte, wincing from a headache.

“Viola wasn’t a good person, the loss wasn’t as bad as you think.  But from where you’re sitting, I think I understand how you feel. Honestly, she went through the same things as Ori and the only reason she was as messed up as she was, well… it’s because of this man.  It’s just another big reason he needs to die.”

“Speaking of that,” said Renato, “I think we should move quickly. Rex got us into the city without anyone seeing us, and we have a chance to act and be gone before anyone knows we’re here. Barring a way to talk to the dead, we still need to try to figure out a new way to get this information. Barzini’s wife is a 42 year old woman named Annetta. We could try to get information from her, either by befriending her- which would probably seem suspicious- or intimidating her. We could also just break in and steal some documents from her husband’s office.”

Tara looked to Brigitte and after a long pause asked, “What do you think?”

Brigitte shrugs. “I was never the stealthy one, and I also don’t seduce women.” She looked to Renato as Jo looked at Tara with a smirk. “You want to take a crack at that cutie pie?”

“She is an attractive woman, but she was dressed head to toe in black. Grief can be a powerful aphrodisiac, but I don’t see that as a likely result.”

“What if,” said Laurent, “you don’t seduce her, but offer to help her. Say you’re tracking the person that did this, that you’re looking for revenge. Her own revenge may be a powerful motivator.”

“That seems complicated,” said Jo. “Why not just grab some files? Was there security there?”

“None,” said Renato. “Well, a dog. But no human security.”

“So, why don’t we have Laurent show up at her front door with a meatloaf while Renato slips in the back door?” Brigitte grabbed another piece of toast herself and started to spread jam on it.

“Just to be clear,” said a smirking Renato. “This is not a euphemism?”

Brigitte shook her head. “It wasn’t meant as one, but I won’t stop you boys from having a good time. After all I’ve got my phone number out of this trip already.” She winked to Renato and flashed the piece of paper to Jo.

Tara blushes and eats her toast.

“Ah, I should not tease you when you are hurt. I don’t mind this plan.” He looked at Tara. 

Tara waved a hand dismissively, “It’s nice to hear people laughing and having fun.  It’s been a while. Don’t let me stop your jest.”

“Laurent goes to the front, says he is hunting this woman. Meanwhile, I sneak in the back and go looking for papers in the office.”

“It’s not a bad plan.  Trying both ways. If a dog and grieving woman is all we need to worry about I doubt too much can go wrong.  We’ll bring a steak for the dog and Laurent’s good looks for the widow.” Tara drank some coffee.

“And will the rest of us be around too?” asked Jo. “Or just the two of them?”

“Gentlemen, how best do you feel you will operate?  I’m not against letting you work alone if you think that is better - I trust you both are capable of handling yourselves well if you say you can do a thing.  But if you think a team would benefit you, I’m happy to make this a team effort. My father always leans on his people to know themselves best… you tell me, how best do you think this would work?”

“In my experience,” said Laurent, “it never hurts to have people in reserve. Perhaps Dr. Magnotti can stay here with Brigitte, while you and Jo wait in a car for us if we require a fast extraction?”

“Alright then.  After breakfast, that’s what we’ll do.”  With that Tara finished her breakfast letting her mind wander once again to all the possible outcomes and what she’d do when she had to face them… and, the ABC game.

***

They waited until evening to make their approach: early enough so that Laurent knocking on the door did not seem too threatening, but dark enough to provide Renato with some cover. Laurent, wearing a suit, knocked on the door. Annetta Barzini, dressed in black, answered it and invited him inside. 

Renato, after feeding the dog a steak, used that opportunity to pick the lock of the door and make his way inside the house, where he attempted to move upstairs. He was fortunate that the stairway faced him; he made it upstairs to the second level silently. Moving quietly past closed bedroom doors, he made it to an office that had accumulated a slight layer of dust. He moved immediately to the filing cabinets and the desk drawer, hunting for anything that would seem to be useful. After a few minutes, he heard a child cough. Not wanting to press his luck, he ripped a few pages out of a planner. He could hear Laurent from the other room, still talking to Annetta.

Renato made it back to the car, handing over the pages to Tara; Jo honked the horn lightly. A few minutes later, Laurent climbed back inside, asking “What do we have?”

“Lots of financial documents…” said Tara. “I can dig into these more later. Interesting to see what Bianchi has been spending money on, even if it doesn’t get us any closer to- wait.” Tara narrowed her eyes, holding the page up to read better. “There’s a note on this one. ‘On the northern coastline, in mountains to the south. We know previously that there’s also tourists near a cathedral, they’re in the forest… closer, but still just another goddamn breadcrumb.” Renato handed over a page of the planner, pointing at one day. “And a meeting with Bianchi a few weeks ago in Naples… in something called La Casa Del Piacere. Fantastic.”

“Well,” said Jo. “Naples always seemed like a nice place to visit.”

Chapter 8: Pleasure

They took the train to Naples; Tara called Patches and had her fly to Milan, just to keep the attention of anyone watching too closely. When they arrived in Naples, they had Renato rent a room for them, where they set up Dr. Magnotti. Brigitte was feeling better, but it had been a long night for everyone, and their sleeping schedules were thrown off. Renato once again snuck off to investigate in the city. He returned a few hours later, looking exhausted.

“The man you’re looking for is named Stefano Tattaglia,” said Renato as he collapsed on the couch. “He is one of the richest men in the country, richer than the pope, but he never leaves his palazzo and his estate. The man doesn’t own a phone; his world is completely self-contained.  Inside his grounds, he is a god- omnipotent- and everyone must play by his rules. No weapons are allowed inside. No fighting is allowed inside. Once, two rival druglords got in a brawl during one of his parties; he had them both executed and neither family took retribution. Anyone who brings trouble or negativity finds his disfavor. He is not an evil man, but he can be a capricious one. He is prone to flattery but is not an idiot. He seems to enjoy seeing himself as Bacchus- play into that idea.” He yawned. “And as you can tell, everyone loves to gossip about him.”

Tara smiled at Ren, “My mother should give you a bonus for all that you’ve done for this team.”

“I agree. What would you do without me, except walk into traps?”

Tara looked to Brigitte, “I’m going to guess that you’re thinking already that this one sounds too much fun to pass up and you’re suddenly feeling a lot better?”

“I am feeling a lot-” Brigitte paused as the words were halfway out of her mouth. “-better.”

“It may be good to be cautious,” said Ren with a grimace, followed by another yawn. “A couple people that I spoke to mentioned a pair of female assassins. Young. Beautiful. They are working in the city- whereabouts unknown.”

“Maybe Serena and Oriana.”  She said hopeful for the first time in a long while.

“Wouldn’t that be a bad thing?” asked Jo. “If she’s working with the bad guy?”

“Possibly.  She might be cooperating to help protect the young girls.  She’s a hard woman, but she’s got a heart. She wouldn’t abandon children if she knew her staying was the only thing between them and this monster.  I can hope for that.”

“You can,” said Laurent, not sounding convinced.

Tara looked at Jo for a while and considered her.  “You are very pretty.” Tara finally said decidedly.  

“Thanks,” said Jo. “I agree.” She grinned.

“Are you much of an actress?”

“Depends what part I’m playing, I suppose.”

“This man is Bacchus.  I am the only one here other than Brigitte that would know Ori on sight and might be able to confirm it’s her.  So I have to go. Obviously I’ll take Crupi as my loyal protector and servant… but, this man doesn’t like trouble and negativity, does that mean lies, Ren?”

“Lies are bad, but it’s hard to prove whether some things are a lie.”

“Then maybe Jo is my friend-”

“Not a lie!” chimed in Jo.

“My original idea was that you were my lover… but being caught in that lie might prove bad for us.  The man is Bacchus, remember?”

“What would your lie hope to gain?” asked Dr. Magnotti, looking over at Tara with bloodshot eyes.

She smiled, “Two fold, the lie could have gotten us favor with him… beautiful young women, involved in a tryst the rest of the world would not allow?  Some men like that sort of thing I’m to understand…” Renato nodded enthusiastically. “but it also pricks someone’s competitive streak and might cause her to feel something other than her loyalty to this asshole who may be holding reigns on her.  I need her to remember she has a life waiting for her - away from here.”

Renato blinked, looking confused. “You think that if you go to Tattaglia’s, that Oriana will hear about you being with another woman and track you down because of it?”

Tara smiled.  “The woman can not stand to lose at anything.  I just had to think of a way to make leaving Francesco a competition.”

“An interesting idea,” said the Doctor. “Except Renato mentioned that the house of pleasure is an island unto itself. Who would hear about you there? I propose that you do something more public if you want to spark the jealousy of your erstwhile woman- perhaps after the brothel.”

“Renato had no trouble learning about the things that happen in there, people gossip.”

“Ah, a fair point,” said the doctor.

“With Francesco in the area though, the assassins might not be Oriana and Serena… it could be the new girls, the young ones.”  Tara remarked.

“Or another older one, like the one in Tuscany,” said Jo.

Tara nodded.  “All we know is that Francesco had been at this location in the past.  Ideally, still there now, but if he is inside and what you say about it is true… how the hell is he running his operation still?  This man is not going to let weapons inside… he can’t be training girls there. Breaking them perhaps, but not training. I’m not hopeful he’s there, and if he is, he’s hiding and we’ll still have the issue of how the hell to kill him without ending up dead ourselves first.”

“I tried scouting around the place,” said Renato. “Too many guards to sneak in.” He stood and stretched. “I need to sleep, as much as I would rather converse with you all. While you were sleeping, I was on the streets.”

“A place like this with heavy security and no weapons allowed…” pondered Laurent. “My guess is that you won’t have to deal with a fight- at least not while your inside. Even if you only decide to take a smaller number people inside with you, perhaps the rest of us should stay armed and remain outside.”

“Go inside and hope to meet with him on neutral grounds and get a measure of the monster?  Meanwhile some of you out here… with Brigitte who Oriana knows. Brigitte is far from subtle in her looks, if Ori is here she is bound to catch wind of a shining star like Brigitte unless she stays completely in hiding.”

“If he’s there. The schedule referred to him being there a couple weeks ago. It’s possible he’s present, but I wouldn’t say it’s likely.”

“So maybe I get to talk with the owner and find out where I can find Mr. Bianchi now?”

Renato shrugged. “As good a plan as any.”

“If it’s like you say, I should be safe as houses there.  Small team in, the rest of you stick together out here. What do you say Brigitte, you and I and Crupi?  Two sisters on a small respite during our trip… we heard there was fun to be had and all that. You can help me not make an idiot of myself.  Laurent you can protect the good doctor and crew until we come back and let Ren get some much needed shut-eye. I think on the next leg of our trip you’re going to be a lot more busy if God is good.”

Brigitte grinned, nodding at Tara, while Jo and Renato looked disappointed. Jo sighed. “Come on, Ren. I’ll let you sleep next to me, and we can pretend we’re in the richest brothel in the country…”

“Oh!  And before I forget… speaking of bonuses… my father is sending along some extra money for the team.  Once we’re done with all these difficult tasks, if you like, maybe we could spend an extra day or three here in Italy enjoying it.”

Jo seemed to perk up a little at the thought of enjoyment. 

“God knows you have all earned it twice over.”  Tara said with a nod and looked to Brigitte, “Alright, so what the hell does a girl wear to the richest brothel in all Europe?  Dress me… I’m your canvas, Dad sent five million reasons for you to smile.”

***

Tara marveled at how the hell something with so little fabric could cost so much!  Brigitte insisted the old woman, whose name Tara had never heard before, was one of the world’s most sought after fashion designers.  Well, considering the price tag on the dresses they’d bought, that had better have been the truth.  

She wasn’t naked, or even indescent, but everything was strongly hinted at and bits of skin encouraged your eyes to follow to places that no man’s hands had ever gone on Tara before.  And if her black dress had been a risky decision… Brigitte’s gold dress was positively scandalous. There was no way they would not be noticed.  

Crupi wore a very nice suit, but the truth was, he was there working.  Yes, they ideally had nothing to worry about here, but people in their positions in life didn’t live to enjoy their money by leaving protection at home.  In fact, he was as much a part of the look, if Brigitte was to be believed, as their purses and jewelry. All of which cost more than Crupi’s whole outfit.

Thank God that Billy had said Brigitte could shop with the cash or she’d have one hell of a time trying to explain to her father why she’d blown so much of his money and didn’t even manage to get enough fabric to make one damn dress out of it.

“Remember what Renato said,” muttered Crupi as they approached. “No violence. No negativity. He is the god of a very small world. If anything is wrong- get up and walk to the exit. I will make sure you get there. But if there is trouble, run to the exit.” He paused. “If you do run, I recommend removing your heels first.”

“This is the first time in weeks I haven’t had a weapon handy.  I don’t know if I feel more uncomfortable about the dress or the lack of weapons.”  She sighed. “But yes, thank you for the advice Crupi. Heels are the first thing to go if we have to run.”

Napoli was always a playground for the rich; in that sense, not much had changed in the last couple thousand years. Every street corner seemed to have a piece of history- and every alleyway seemed to promise adventure or pleasure- or both- to those willing to step into the shadows. Stefano Tattaglia would have fit in at any point in Naples’ storied history. Wherever there is enough money, there is an overweight, faintly handsome, bearded man who surrounds himself with luxuries and naked flesh. There were many whorehouses and brothels in Naples, but only Stefano’s dared to call itself La Casa Del Piacere- and no one in the city would dispute it. Stefano Tattaglia could have built anything with the fortune he inherited; instead, he built a monument to Bacchus. 

Tales of the good-natured debauchery present in La Casa Del Piacere were legendary; if you could imagine it, it was rumored to be for sale. The only fully clothed people inside the house were the formidable guards present to defend their wealthy benefactor. As the trio passed the group of guards outside and walked inside the main hall, those not staring straight ahead would catch glimpses of movement and naked bodies in the side rooms. And even those trying to focus couldn’t completely ignore the moans and slapping flesh that seemed to accompany the band in the main hall. The atmosphere was festive, raunchy, and unapologetically lustful- exactly as some people imagine heaven and others imagine hell. 

Every person in the main hall, excepting the guards, was barely dressed. The men who worked there were wearing black vests and tight briefs that left little to the imagination; the women were similarly dressed in black negligee. Stefano Tattaglia, dressed like the other men but wearing a laurel wreath on his head, reclined in an elevated couch presiding over fornication, foreplay, and feasting, while a dozen guards kept watchful eyes on the proceedings- especially strangers. Before anyone could say anything, he addressed the group in a voice that dripped with wine, power, and unbridled joy.

“Well, well. I’ve been expecting you, Tara Mastrosimone. Brigitte Mastrosimone. The stories I’ve heard of each of you don’t do you justice. And those dresses. You’re here for fun, it seems. We’re happy to provide it for you.”

Tara glanced at her sister, shocked that the man had greeted them so openly - that he knew their names and had expected them.  It was the worst possible outcome. Nothing they’d done, as she feared, had gone unseen. Every step had been along Oriana’s path and Francesco could see their every step miles away.  Tara remembered then Ren’s warning and pushed her dark thoughts away, trying to find something truthful and happy to cling to.

“My sister has had a very rough last few days and could use some relaxation.  I… might be interested in some tutoring, though I admit I feel I’ve found myself at University before I even entered elementary.”  She chuckled and blushed.

Tattaglia raised a thoroughly amused eyebrow. “Tutoring. Did you hear that? The girl is simply a delight, Pippo.” He spoke to his chief bodyguard, standing beside him and not reacting.

“Well, I’m happy to discuss business with you, Miss Mastrosimone. But it would be rude of me to do so before you’ve enjoyed my hospitality.”

Tara nodded respectfully, “I look forward to speaking with you after we’ve partaken in all this establishment has to offer.”

Tattaglia clapped and one of his servants immediately stepped forward. “Give these three weary travelers adjoining rooms on the second floor. They have been bouncing around the country on their quest, and they require relaxation and invigoration. I will have an attendant sent to your room; they will handle each one of your needs; I do so enjoy trying to predict the type of person each of my guests finds most attractive- but I insist that if I guess your type wrong, you must politely let them know. I won’t stand for dishonesty. Enjoy a bottle of wine, a vigorous fucking, and a restful nap. We’ll speak at dinner.” He clapped, and the party found themselves escorted out by a mixture of guards and servants and led upstairs to a trio of adjoining rooms. As they each reached their doors, Crupi shrugged at the girls before going inside. Brigitte stayed in the hallway, looking at Tara.

Tara gave her sister an uncertain look, “Have fun.”  It was all she could think to say as she turned towards her room with resignation.

“Be honest.”  Brigitte said softly.  “He’s bacchus, not a rapist.  If you’re happy talking, or… whatever, tell whoever comes to you that.  I don’t know if you know it but some men go to the Red Light district just for company.  Hell, there’s a blonde by the docks I’ve heard that Gavin pays for kisses” She chuckled.  “Just… don’t do anything you don’t want to Tara. You’ll be okay.”

Tara nodded, but didn’t say anything else.  She just reached out for the door handle and went into her room not sure what she would find waiting for her.

Inside she found a luxurious, soft four-poster bed with red silk sheets, turned down in an inviting fashion. There was also a large couch and two armchairs surrounding a bearskin rug next to a fireplace. On the other side of the room was a large, marble bath that one could step down in.

Tara walked over to the bear skin rug and looked down at the poor beast.  “I know how you feel.” She said to it softly and chuckled. Walking over to the bed she touched the sheets and pressed down on the mattress.  Find it every bit as fine as it looked she wandered around the room examining the decor, considering the sort of person who builds a place like this and what he got out of it.  Power? Surely. Money, of course. He was obviously a hedonist so that didn’t hurt...

There was a soft knock on the door. An olive skinned, dark haired man of about twenty walked in the door and gave Tara a small smile. “I am sorry to interrupt you…”

“Your English is very good.”

“Thank you, Miss Mastrosimone. I was asked to instruct you to lay in the bed and to keep your eyes closed.”

Tara narrowed her eyes.  “Asked by whom?”

“By Signor Tattaglia, of course.”

Tara drew a breath, she should have known that Brigitte wouldn’t have the faintest clue what happened in places like this.  There wasn’t any backing out now though. Not easily, not with the man holding all the cards and him knowing it. Tara walked over to the bed slowly, there was no seductiveness or comfort in her movement, just nervous energy, a hint of fear.  Settling down onto the bed she gave the young man a final look before laying back as instructed and closing her eyes, her arms crossed over herself just under her breasts.

After a few moments, Tara heard the door open, then the nearly inaudible sound of bare feet moving quietly across the floor. Tara took a deep breath, trying to control the sense of dread that she was feeling, but she kept her eyes closed.

When the hand slipped over her mouth to prevent her from yelling, she wasn’t even surprised.  It took everything she had not to open her eyes involuntarily.  

“Hey Tiger. Don’t yell.” It was Ori’s voice. She released the hand over Tara’s mouth.

Immediately she was overwhelmed with emotions, she sobbed but didn’t dare open her eyes. “Are you okay?”  Her hands came up to touch Ori, not sure what she’d find but just wanting to feel that she was really there.

“Look at me.” 

Timidly she opened her eyes.  It was Ori, almost exactly as Tara had remembered her. Thinner, paler, but whole.

“It is you.”  She smiled through tears.

“Sorry about the surprise. I didn’t want you to see me and shout, give things away.”

“You… you’re hiding here?”  She hoped. She prayed.

“It’s... complicated.”

“Viola told me.”  She said nodding. “I know you were with…”  

Ori narrowed her eyes. “Viola is working with you?”

She shook her head, “Viola is dead but she put me on your trail.”

“Huh. Time for that later.” Ori stood from where she’d been kneeling by the bed; she was wearing the same negligee as the female members of the establishment. She poured Tara a glass of wine and handed it to her. “When you walk out of this room, you need to either be fucked or half-drunk to avoid offending Tattaglia. Drink while I talk.”

Tara took the wine. Oriana poured herself another glass.

“I had Francesco. I froze. I… she shook her head. I’m really glad to see you, Tara. I missed you. I heard these stories about you bouncing around the country to find me, and I almost didn’t believe them.”

“Ori?”

“Yes?”

“Did you mean what you said in the letters?”  She held her breath.

“What if I promise to tell you everything about the letters once I’m confident no one is going to kill us?”

Tara put the wine down.  She stood up from the bed and moved towards Ori, this time confidently.  

“Nice dress, by the way.”

“There will never be a day when someone isn’t trying to kill me.  There will never be a day when we aren’t in the crosshairs of someone’s gun.  That’s my life. That’s who I am now. Who I was born as, whether I wanted it or not.”

“I don’t disagree with you. But Serena killed your uncle, and she’s here. Francesco also thinks that… he owns me, again. I don’t know how much time I have.”

Tara shook her head, “Then for god sakes can you be kissing me right now before we have to stop.”

Ori blinked. Then she stood up and walked toward the door.

Tara’s heart stopped.  Had she just fucked up, said all the wrong things, should she have just done it rather than saying it?