NICCOLÒ

17. Unprotected

Cee sipped her hot drink, alone, her legs tucked underneath her as she gazed out the window. The birds outside were twittering to each other, flitting from branch to branch effortlessly; the winter at the Romano House was undoubtedly beautiful. Each morning the grass would be lightly sprinkled with frost, sparkling in the dim light - they were on the edge of spring, but not quite.

When someone walked in, carrying a tray of toast, fruit, pastries and porridge, Cee half-turned expectantly, but it wasn't Niccolò. The young man set down his tray, nodding respectfully to her and refusing to meet her eye. She was trying, slowly, to learn the names of all the house staff that Niccolò employed: there were two chefs - both excellent snipers, according to Luca - Dr Jordan was the resident doctor, but the majority of Romano's employees worked as 'security' - a role which included (but was not limited to) protecting the Romano House, protecting the Italian outpost and overseeing/delivering/collecting deliveries.

Cee nibbled her toast silently, day-dreaming. No one joined her, but she was enjoying the moments to herself; Niccolò was usually here by now, but perhaps he had slept in.

An hour later, her untouched porridge was cold; she gave up, a odd feeling of confusion weighing on her shoulders.

The next day was the same: she waited patiently for him to arrive, but he never came.

Cee tapped on Luca's door, almost nervous. She didn't want to seem clingy, like she couldn't handle breakfast alone for two days; she just wanted to know why.

He called her in. Cee stepped into his office, looking around it for the first time. Unlike Niccolò's ordered, neat study, Luca's was littered with papers and files, overflowing with documents.

Her eyes found Luca, still listening to someone on the phone. He looked almost bored, writing something down as the person on the other end spoke.

"Yes, sir," he replied finally. "I'll leave tonight." Cee couldn't help listening, glancing around at the various chairs and cabinets around the small room. If she knocked a stack of files over, she'd drown in paperwork.

"Yes, boss." Cee looked up, her eyes narrowing; it was Niccolò on the other end of the line.

"Where is he?" she asked, without thinking. Luca's eyebrows raised, looking remarkably like his cousin for a second, putting his finger to his lips.

Cee scowled, waiting impatiently. Luca sighed abruptly. "Yes, boss." He held the phone out to her reluctantly, rolling his eyes. Cee looked from the phone to Luca in surprise and he gestured to the phone. "Pick up," he hissed.

Cee put the phone to her ear cautiously. "Hello?"

"Camilla." She fidgeted slightly, playing with her fingers.

"Hello." Something about Niccolò's voice reduced her to a blushing, stammering mess.

"How are you?" His voice was low, cold; intimate. Cee blushed, turning away from Luca's questioning gaze.

"Fine," she mumbled. "Where are you?"

"Italy." Her eyes widened.

"Since when were you in Italy?"

"For the last day." His voice was amused - she could almost see him raising his eyebrow.

"Why?"

"You don't need to worry about it." His response was immediate. "I'll be back soon."

"Okay," she whispered, twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

"Wait for me tonight," he instructed impassively, his voice crackling slightly on the line.