I CAN BE YOUR WORLD -- CONQUER ME

Her leg didn’t retreat when his pressed back against hers beneath the table. If anything, she adjusted, ever so slightly, so that the contact became more intentional. When he leaned closer, Adriana mirrored him without thinking. And when he teased her about using him for his good looks, her brows lifted faintly as if mildly impressed he’d even dared.

"Your good looks?" She echoed, a soft laugh slipping from her lips. "Ted, I haven’t even decided if they’re useful yet." She allowed him then to reach for her hand and then watched as he diverted and stole her glass instead. Her eyes followed the movement, then returned to him. "You’re cautious." She said meeting his gaze in a way that made it clear she understood exactly why.

As the stewardess refilled her champagne, Adriana leaned back slightly in her seat. "Using you would imply I’ve already made up my mind. And yet, I’m still evaluating." Her gaze dipped briefly to where their legs touched beneath the table. "And so far..." She added, eyes lifting again. "You’re performing well.

"And all the receipts on my phone to show you giving me grief about not rigging this thing..." Gideon shakes his head. "You don't get to say shit to me, I'll have you know."

Her grin broke through a second later, entirely too pleased with herself. She bounced once on her toes, barely containing her energy. "Technically, you told me to expand. When we came in, I was fully set on just having the time of my life with Spence. Truly. Even considered yours because F1? Fuck yes. But because you said not to cop out…" She tilted her head. "I chose differently." That, was followed by a wink.

"So what if I fucked with Mel?" Another wide, unapologetic grin spread across her face, the kind that meant she absolutely did it on purpose and would do it again.

Then, suddenly, she slapped his shoulder playfully.

"Wait a minute!" Adriana narrowed her eyes, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t escape her. "Don't change the subject. French. Getaway. What are you hiding?" Her brows lifted slowly. "Do you know her? More than just the general consensus?" She leaned in slightly more. "Because if you're about to pretend this is innocent, I need you to rehearse that lie again."

"Parts of Rome I haven’t seen before?" She echoed softly, her brow lifted just slightly. "That sounds wonderfully unspecific." She wasn’t a woman who fell for presentation alone. She preferred to see what endured once the tension settled.

At the mention of skipping the Coliseum, she gave a small, dismissive wave of her fingers. "Good. I don’t care much for ruins. I prefer things that are... Alive."

Her eyes held his then, but not as a challenge, but more as a quiet acknowledgment. She saw his intensity and she recognized it. When he said the evening would be private, though, that was where her attention shifted. "Private." She repeated, as though testing how the word felt on her tongue.

Her fingers traced the stem of her glass again, but this time thoughtfully. "And what exactly does private mean to you, Teddy?" She asked, voice lowering just slightly. "Secluded? Exclusive?" A faint tilt of her head. "Or the kind of private that requires discretion afterward?" That small grin returned.

When his attention shifted briefly toward the stewardess as the food was set down, Adriana didn’t follow it. She had no interest in what had momentarily caught his eye. Her gaze remained exactly where it had been - on him.

Instead, beneath the table, her leg shifted. Her heel slid slowly along the inside of his calf before settling, unhurried, just brushing there. A quiet claim. When his eyes returned to her, she was already watching him. "You mention jealous Italians." She said lightly. "I don’t frighten easily. And I certainly don’t compete." Her gaze dipped to his mouth for half a second before rising again. Jealousy, actually, in her books, was a welcomed act. "If someone’s going to find us, I’d hope we’ve given them something to talk about."

So she let Lorenzo throw the intent into the air and answered it with nothing more than that small half smile.

Once the seatbelt sign switched off and the stewardesses appeared with champagne, she settled into her seat properly. One leg crossing over the other, fingers curling loosely around the stem of the glass.

"Roma ti seduce con la storia... E ti trattiene con il peccato."

Her Italian was smooth, almost perfect (at least that phrase). Her eyes lingered on the gold of the champagne as she gently rotated the glass, watching the light catch it. Rafaelle had taught her that line on one of their trips. Rome had always been a place of contradiction to her. Beauty and sin holding hands.

"It is a beautiful city however, I believe different people bring different experiences. I'm excited to see Rome the way you see it." There was no hidden meaning behind that. She simply meant it.

His question made her laugh, though she was not offended, just amused. "Is that the question that has been at the back of your mind?" She took a sip before continuing, a faint grin still present. "Do you want a list of all my ex-boyfriends? I'm sure Jack can prepare a file."

And honestly, he probably could. "As for danger? We did meet in London, you know? I did win your date at a charity event where I am sure you know who is who." A slight shrug followed. "I'm sure you're guessing who I am and what's my place there, too. Wondering if I am here to get some information out of you? Maybe I've got some grand scheme planned?"

She exhaled softly. It was better to get that out now rather than let it hover. "The Rutherfords are people I call my family and are the people I would do anything for. So if you ever feel an itch to point a gun at my sisters or my brothers, I will make sure you don't see the light of day."

She said it calmly. She wasn’t violent by nature. She had never killed anyone. But she wouldn’t hesitate if it came to them.

"My dating history is quite excessive, so I don't want to bore you with details. Dangerous? Some. Though I doubt Leonardo Di Caprio would do anything to you." A playful lift of her brow. "As for watching your back? I think you'd be doing that anyway, no matter who was my ex." Him being Italian already came with complications she could never compete with.

A private excursion to taste and see all that the Home Country has to offer. To begin, an early dinner on the top story of the Restaurant Le Colonnette in Rome. A special favor was called in with the management to ensure the candlelight dinner will be the only table on the floor. After food, drinks, and desert, enjoy a private guided tour of the eternal city with La Dolce Vita, while sipping prosecco on a handcrafted Italian luxury boat. To round out the evening, a personal tour of St. Peter’s Square and Vatican City, followed by a great nights rest at Singer Palace Hotel Roma.

Lorenzo stood on the airstrip beside a Gulfstream G550 private charter jet, the staircase descending onto the asphalt tarmac as other aircraft taxied to and from the runway. The noise was loud, but not unbearable, and the weather was perfect for flying-- not a cloud in the sky. Dark sunglasses hid the Italian's eyes as he surveyed the boarding terminal that opened onto the tarmac. The Pilot was already on board, as was the flight attendant, and the maintenance team had just finished fueling the jet and was now loading his luggage into the belly of the plane. A date of this magnitude deserved the best, he decided, so though it was not originally requested from TWI, he'd fronted the money to upgrade from first class seats on a commercial airliner to a private charter. Having spent £65,000, he felt Adriana was entitled to a little privacy and comfort for their journey. He had mixed feelings about this whole venture. It was for a good cause, of course, but the idea of trapesing across the continent with an ally of the Russians was not exactly on his bucket list. And no matter how attractive this woman was, he didn't doubt she could be deadly in her own way. The doors of the terminal slid open silently, and he smiled slightly seeing his date walking through them. Damn she was beautiful, he thought to himself. And he bet she knew it, too. Ready or not, he thought to himself, moving toward her to accept her luggage, here we go.

And it seemed to be paying off.

Rome had not been chosen for the romance of it. It had been chosen because she had done the math. Out of all possible outcomes, that path was the one most likely to put her in front of one of the two Italians who had managed to catch her attention. If she was going to take a risk, she might as well tilt the odds in her favour.

From those two, Vinnie was familiar territory; comfortable, tempting, easy to anticipate in all the ways that mattered. But Lorenzo? Lorenzo was new. He wasn’t predictable yet, and that alone made him interesting. There was something in the way he carried himself, as if he enjoyed holding something back. Not shy. Not unsure. Just selective. That made her curious. She wanted to see what he was like outside of their brief interaction, and what he’d be like over two days, when it was simply the two of them.

"Give it here." She said to Jack, her bodyguard, after security, extending her hand without looking at him. She took her bag herself deliberately. The suitcase would be loaded onto the jet, of course. She hadn’t packed lightly. Adriana never committed halfway.

"I see you upgraded." She smirked as she handed Lorenzo her bag. Before he could retreat, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Just enough to blur the line, in case he had any thoughts of putting a boundary.

"You don’t mind that Jack comes, right?" Her smile turned playful. "I promise he’ll hang back when he needs to. A girl can never be too careful right, Teddy?" She let the nickname settle between them.

Once seated in the jet, she crossed her legs slowly, eyes never leaving him. "So..." Her tone softened, but her gaze didn’t. "What are your expectations?" A slight tilt of her head. "How do you want this to go?"

Somehow this old dump is a favorite with the locals. You can tell straight away - the assortment will not only surprise you in the deserts but also in the various locations that you can find them in. I wouldn’t recommend it to my friends as they’ve all had it already.

Spencer Berkeley 3.9/5 

This was my favorite restaurant for a long time. The meals were amazing! You got a huge portion for the price; it was delivered quickly and looked as good on the plate as it tasted. The staff was super friendly and always treated me well. Unfortunately, one day I strayed and ate at a fast food establishment. It was a mistake, and I regret it deeply, as that was the turning point where I decided I will no longer dine at their facility.

William Robathan 4/5 

William’s was only open for business between the hours of 1 am and 5 am. You’ll have to wait for him to call you about his exact opening hours, so you just can’t go anytime you want. But it’s a fabulous place if you’re looking for something dirty and greasy.

Maksim Kurylenko 3.75/5 

The staff was kind of douchy, but I kept going back the atmosphere of the place was what initially got my attention, and upon entering and spending a nice (but stormy) evening inside, I was well-pleased with my experience!

Laurent St Pierre

4/5

Waiter was very insistent that I try the French Sausage and it took several visits for me to let him give it to me. After finally giving in, I must admit it wasn’t too bad; not too long but thick enough to satisfy. It was very messy, though, so there’s no need to try your best. The crowd seems to be more of an older one, not a place to take your kids to. All I’m all I would recommend it, but the fact that the booking is quite easy makes you wonder if there’s something shady going on.

Rafaelle  Lomazzo

3.5/5

Giorgio Pecatti 3.55/5 Short, sharp, and blistering. The Italian dish hit like a small explosion: piping hot, unapologetic, and gone before you knew what struck you. There was no buildup, no mercy; just a quick, fiery jolt that left your taste buds reeling. Bite-sized chaos, served fast and fierce.

Money well spent.

Her thumb paused at the corner of his mouth, where the smirk threatened to show up. She tilted her head slightly, studying him like she’d already decided he was hers to unwrap. "When do we leave? I'd love to see you at work. Sooner, rather than later."

Did he vocalize that? Absolutely fucking not. Their friendship, for what it was, didn't fall into those realms unless they were fucked up. And even then, her tongue could be as sharp as a viper's.

Alas.

"You know full well that even if I did get the London one, I'd be the one who would be the final curator of the date. I'd just show the poor guy the real meaning and feeling of fun." Because she'd be damned if she paid even a single quid to freeze her tits off in London.

"By the way," Gideon picks up the conversation they'd left when engaged otherwise, "As someone who actually has done celibacy—don't make promises you can't keep." He can't imagine it for Adriana anymore than she can. But setting her sights on burly mobsters like a kid in a candy shop?... There's nothing new about that. "Who is he? Point him out to me."

He encourages it only because it serves as a good distraction from Adriana's own romantic past. He doesn't want her thinking about Aviv tonight. Not if it risks that unhappy, faraway look in her eyes he's become too familiar with in the last years.

But at the mention of Vincenzo, the Rutherford's lip curls with obvious disdain.

"Don't even think about it. Choose a different leaf. Better yet, a whole different tree. What about..." He scans the room, looking for someone harmless by their standards. "Óscar?" The man's laughing at something their brother-in-law's just said in the distance. "Orrr... Ayaz?" Another one nearby. Gideon's eyes continue roaming, trying to pick out options who wouldn't cause Adriana's death by violence, boredom, or a mix of both. It's harder than it sounds. Then he finds one he knows she wouldn't touch with a twelve-foot pole. He smiles. "Hasan's still single, by the looks of it. Wonder if the giant smiley head he wore while camping might have something to do with that... Rather impressed he didn't crack and murder any of us in our sleep that weekend. Still waiting for the second shoe to drop."

So she just smiled at him, unbothered. "I never take a losing bet, please."

Her eyes drifted across the room, scanning lazily. "There." She said, tilting her chin slightly. "The one with the scruff and pouty lips." Though after a slight pause she reconsidered. "Talking to… that guy. I don’t know. Hot Italian. But he doesn’t look like my resident tiramisu.” Raffaele. Six years of history that refused to either settle or disappear. In and out. Almost. Never quite. Maybe one day she’d marry him. Maybe she wouldn’t. Until then? No one was stopping her from browsing the menu.

When Gideon dismissed yet another option, Adriana rolled her eyes theatrically. "Oh my God, he is not that bad." Vinnie was… Special? But special didn’t automatically mean disqualified.

As her brother began listing men like he was reading off auction items, Adriana scrunched her nose and dramatically shoved her index finger into her mouth, fake gagging. "You’re actually disgusting. Oscar? Absolutely not. He looks like Yvonne’s husband’s understudy. She really said, 'I have a type' and committed." Then, she continued. "Ayaz? That’s borderline incest."

And then... "Hasan?" Her voice lifted several octaves. "Hasan? HASAN?" She stepped forward immediately, grabbing him by the back of his neck and dragging him down so their faces were eye to eye. "Take. That. Back." Her tone was sweet, but there was a threat hidden.

She released him only when footsteps passed nearby, flashing strangers a perfectly innocent smile before turning back to him. But not before pressing a deliberate kiss to his cheek, lipstick mark unmistakably there. Only then leaned back, admiring her work.

"Maybe you’ll be lucky and get me." She murmured. "Imagine that. An entire evening. Maybe longer. Just me." A small tilt of her head. "Torturing you." Her grin widened. "Better pray you get someone fun."

And just like that, she was already walking away, toward Diana, because there was no universe in which she would stay glued to her brother’s side.

Merde.

It's part of a very limited vocabulary he has in French, but the Rutherford has a feeling it's going to be a revolving word over the next twenty-four hours.

Only in his head, of course—he's not a complete animal.

Granted, it could be worse, he thinks, downing the remainder of his glass and reaching blindly for another on the champagne table to his left. But it could've also been much, much better. He's suddenly grateful he resisted Diana's attempts to wheedle him into a date involving a multi-day trip abroad.

"Did I ever mention, I fucking hate kids?"