hailstorm.

"You wanna try some of our new drinks? If you hate 'em I'll but your next round. If you like 'em, you can buy my next round." Henri was giving the people in front of him his best smile as he held a tray of drinks. He had taken over for a few shifts at the Champagne Room and he had been campaigning for more summer options. But first he had to prove they were worth it. So he had taken it upon himself to do his own market research. "What do you think? Best deal or what? Which one would you like to try first? I'd recommend this dragonfruit mojito."

"obligation," alexander answers, the word offered as though it ought to explain everything. for a moment, it does. his thumb traces the rim of his glass in an absent circle before his attention shifts to rosa fully, the practiced sweep of his gaze suggesting he'd been aware of her presence long before he'd looked at her.

"the older you get, the less these things resemble invitations." one shoulder lifts in a faint shrug. "eventually they become attendance records. someone notices when you're absent."

his eyes drift back across the terrace. a councilman laughing a shade too loudly at a joke that wasn't particularly funny. two donors embracing like old friends despite having spent the better part of the last year trying to undermine one another. familiar choreography. "and people tend to get careless in rooms like this," he continues after a measured sip. "they're usually too busy trying to convince everyone they're interesting to remember they're being observed."

the corner of his mouth threatens the ghost of a smile.

"so, i suppose i came for the entertainment." whether he means the orchestra, the champagne, or the collection of carefully curated masks wandering villa aurelia's terrace is left entirely to rosa's interpretation.

he was the police commissioner. it was known across town and certainly throughout the crowd of criminals that lingered throughout. "i don't know that it has to do with age more than it has to do with certain affiliations and loyalty, right?"

now he could choose which affiliation or loyalty he was showing up for, that wasn't any of her interest for tonight. she wasn't here to tempt fate by pissing off someone who could inconvenince her with a stay in a prison cell for a few days.

the second part caught her attention, gaze peering in the direction of the councilman who was boisterous and ensuring that those around him pay attention to him. her eyes rolled with disgust. there was something about powerful men that would always annoy her, but also bring forth a desire to kick them down a few pegs.

"now that i can understand and get behind. if you look closely, you can see the crack amidst the facades people are putting on. the masks always fall and it's not always a pretty view but it can guarantee hours of entertainment." her eyes scanned the area a little further before it turned towards him. "shall we wage a friendly bet? perhaps about our dear councilman in the corner."

He idled at the mouth of the alley with the engine low and one boot on the asphalt, waiting until he caught a glimpse of her. In turn, the helmet was held out when she got close enough, waiting for her arms to secure their place around his torso before the low rumble of the engine filled the alley prior to their speed off. Twenty minutes through Manhattan, the route varying twice as he opted against returning to his familiar stomping grounds of Brooklyn in the event they were being followed. They weren't. But cautionary nature wouldn't settle the instinct.

When they'd put enough distance between themselves and wherever he'd pulled her from, remaining within Manhattan city limits, he cut the engine. His own helmet came off first before he turned to help with hers, fingers finding the clasp to undo then remove it. The first words out of her mouth produced nothing more than a lopsided smirk to hook upon one side of his lips before he patted her thigh to signal aiding her off the bike. "You know I'm gonna ask, Ren." There would never be judgment on his part. "You in some kind of trouble?"

with the male's guidance, she descended from the bike and looked him over once she got the helmet off. her hand immediately travelled to her hair to smooth down the crazed flyaways. "i don't know," she told him truthfully. the text had been out of the blue and despite being under the thumb of the contingency— she'd never felt like she was in trouble or danger. they protected her and she helped.

"i got a text message," she started, pausing to chew the inside of her cheek. it wasn't like she'd been told to remain quiet about it. after a moment, she pulled out her phone and handed it towards him so he could see the text message. "what if they kill him because of me? now they know where he's going to be."

a few familiar faces from the precinct had drifted into his orbit throughout the evening, the kind of easy, forgettable conversation that required at most half his attention. he gave them exactly that. the other half of him stayed on the room itself: who arrived together, who hadn't spoken all night, who kept checking their phone like they were waiting on something they didn't want anyone else to see land. old habits. he'd stopped calling it work a long time ago. it was just how he attended things now.

the gold light easing into violet over the water, the sound of a party that hadn't stopped moving since he'd arrived, none of it fully pulled him out of his own head. "i've been to a few hundred of these over the years." he takes a slow sip of his drink, gaze still tracking the terrace rather than whoever he's speaking to.

"what's your reasoning for showing up, then?"

"Ren..." The uttering of her name was tinged with uncertainty, and a cloud of warning darkened his gaze as he lightly squeezed her arm, as if doing so could somehow break the spell she clearly had over the man. Even after she confirmed her intent by telling the senator exactly how she wanted him to serve his punishment, his mind lingered in the land of confusion and disbelief for a few moments too long before registering the truth of what was happening before him. Senator Campagna slowly lowered himself, tongue darting out gingerly as he fulfilled her exact demand, and Alessandro found himself unable to look away, disgusted and fascinated in equal measure. From the corner of his eye, he saw one of his affiliates take a few clandestine shots of the utterly indecent act, and his arm quickly pulled Morena away. "Go wait for me in the limo. Now."

Alessandro ushered his companion away before returning to the man, uncertain if he should offer an apology or prolong the humiliation. "Senator..." His voice started a sentence he couldn't quite finish, though it seemed the other man was interested only in thanking him profusely, his reverence that of someone who'd been given life-saving water after days in the desert. Uncharacteristically fazed, Sandro muttered a half-hearted goodbye and made his way to the limo.

"Your bedside manners are...shocking, Miss Aguirre," he observed simply, eyes lingering on her as if seeing her for the first time, this new truth about her captivating him even in his uncertainty. "But undoubtedly effective."

there wasn't any wavering or hesitation in her request and the excitement that vibrated from the man only fuelled her further despite the ghastly look she received from alessandro. the woman ignored him as she looked down upon the male who knelt before her, only allowing him to see the content on her face when he was done with his task. "that's good. good boy," she added under her breath for the senator and alessandro's ears alone.

her gaze remained on alessandro as he approached the senator in a manner that indicated he must have been apologizing on her behalf— or perhaps his— and frankly ren didn't quite care. "you owe me an apology," ren regarded him with a dissaproving shake of her head. "you doubted me." while her methods were out there, they had landed them both exactly what they wanted and he should have known better than to assume any different.

"how will you make it up to me?"

"Never mind what I've got packin'. What'cha got over there, boys? A pretty little butter knife in your pocket and — lemme guess, just a mean ol' right kicker, huh?" Although he and the woman were veritable strangers, Achillas hoped his own taunt contained a clear enough message for her to understand. Sure, he could have easily taken the two men the moment they brushed past him, but if she was willing to steal to have diamonds on her skin, she'd have to be just as willing to see blood on them in equal measure.

Before the men had too much of a chance to respond, Achillas moved on the fidgety one first, his expert hands delivering a quick succession of jabs and disarmaments that left the guy kneeling before them, legs pinned back under the press of his heavy boot. He casually leaned an elbow on the man's shoulder and fixed his gaze intently on the woman's next moves. "Your choice, ladrona. Whaddya think? Go for the the weak spot, or somewhere he'll be feeling for days?"

too late.

achillas was quick and rosa didn't have time to even think of making a run for it when he lunged and got both men disarmed and at his mercy. it was impressive and frightening. the question, however, brought forth interest and a newfound desire to remain in order to see where this went. "this shouldn't even be a question. make it hurt for a few days so they can remember that they shouldn't run after a pretty girl who is trying to enjoy her night."

her head tilted as she looked towards both men and smiled. "can you do it that it hurts for a few weeks? they did give me quite the scare."

⋆˚☆˖° location: the white party @ villa aurelia!! °˖☆˚⋆

the first thing she noticed wasn't the setting, but the silence. not the absence of sound — there was too much champagne being poured, too many conversations rising and falling beneath strings of music drifting over the terrace — but the kind of silence money cultivated. the confidence that came from never needing to rush. every laugh seemed measured. every smile practiced just enough to appear effortless. even the ocean felt invited. she had spent enough nights beneath crimson lights to recognize another kind of performance when she saw one. only this audience had traded velvet for linen. white fabric caught the last of the evening sun as guests drifted across the lawn, each of them looking as though they'd stepped from the same dream. villa aurelia stood impossibly pristine against the coastline, its lights beginning to glow as daylight surrendered to dusk. beautiful. almost too beautiful. leyla wandered toward the edge of the property where the terrace gave way to sand, slipping her heels off long enough to let the cool grains settle beneath her feet. the atlantic stretched endlessly before her, indifferent to the spectacle unfolding only a few yards away. she preferred that. the ocean had no interest in appearances. a passing server offered another glass of champagne. she accepted it more out of politeness than desire, turning the delicate stem between her fingers without taking a sip. "it's funny," she murmured after a while, not entirely sure whether she was speaking to herself or the person who'd come to stand nearby. “they tell you white symbolizes innocence.” her gaze drifted back toward the party. a sea of immaculate dresses. tailored suits. perfect smiles. then corner of her mouth curved, subtle enough to disappear if someone blinked. “and i've never seen a room wear it more convincingly.” only then did she glance toward the person beside her, curiosity quiet but unmistakable.

His other prized possessions remained primarily in the safe solitude of his home, tucked away in his fortress of a penthouse. Away from the prying eyes of the city's nighthawks, Alessandro practiced his private rituals, his little methods of giving honor to the path that led him here—namely, touching the center diamond of his mother's necklace twice, a private prayer offered up to God along with the gesture. Later that evening, as he walked the long corridor (more a museum passageway than a mere hall) to his bedroom, his hands instinctively reached for the necklace, finding naught but vacant space in its place. He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up, mental alarms blaring for his ears only, and raced to check his bedroom for any further signs of intrusion. His bed, strangely, was wrinkled after being meticulously pressed by his housekeeper, and a key few heirlooms — black diamond cuff links, a rosary made of sapphires, a couple Vacheron Constantin watches he wore in regular rotation, to name a few of the more valuable items gone — had vanished.

But his mother's necklace — that wasn't a simple theft. That was personal. A threat with bared, bloody teeth. A declaration of war against him. He scoured the external camera footage of the building, but came up empty. In the days immediately following the 'attack', Alessandro slept only in his office at the club — or, dozed for minutes and half-hours at a time, eyes by now bloodshot and body deeply unrested. He was a man built on control, and this heist team had stripped him entirely of it, leaving him a man drinking down his third — or was it fourth — G&T of the afternoon, pathetic and pitiful as his eyes scanned over the camera footage yet again. Rosa's familiar voice brought him out of his wallowing reverie, a mostly welcome invitation to pay attention to anything other than his loss.

"Cierto, bella, of course I'm here. I'm always here," he half-groaned, finally prying his eyes away from his phone and to his favorite bartender. It wasn't her pretty face that caught his attention this time, however — it was the piece of history hanging off her hips, dangling like simple decoration, careless and cruel. Rising to examine her, he silently flung every Italian curse he could in her general direction, but let the words die unspoken in his throat while his hands nestled upon the curve of her hips, touch light but present. "Rosa, Rosa... Driving me insane wasn't the kind of trouble I told you to get into..." He sucked in a breath, grip on her suddenly far more possessive. Rougher. Intending to hurt, not as a finality, but as a warning. "This belongs to one woman and one woman only, and you are not she. So, be a good girl and give it back."

the excitement vibrated through her at his approach, savouring the frustration that poured out of him with each curse until his touch settled upon her skin. it was a contrasting brush as opposed to the booming sound of his voice—carefully angling her body towards him and her hip just out of reach as to ensure he wouldn't so easily slip it off of her dress.

"you should have been more specific." a hand settled upon the front of his shirt as she smoothed the material down.

there was something thrilling about having the upper hand and the control of a situation.

he'd soon learn that perhaps his charming tone would have had other woman lapping in the palm of his hand, she was not one of them.

and rosa did not respond well to being told to be a good girl.

she'd never been. nor had she ever had interest.

her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth disapprovingly. the hand fell from his torso towards the gorgeous and expensive piece upon her hip. "i knew it was special the moment i saw it. it was taken care of well, but doesn't it look better on my body than behind some vaulted door?"

her head tilted to take him in, face splitting into a grin. "tell me how good it looks on me." while her features held innocence with the way she regarded him through her lashes, her tongue held nothing but. it was firm. an order.

"go on. be a good boy."

It was only when he checked his watch that he realized today’s awakening was a cruel one; 3AM was hardly an acceptable time to start or end the day — and yet, his feet never once argued with his head, carrying him from apartment to stairwell and down to the city street below, too awake to simply rest and too alive to play dead. Achillas stalked more than he strolled, senses eagerly awaiting some kind of trouble in a city certainly not known for its peace and tranquility at odd hours of the night, if any. But there seemed no trouble invading the city streets tonight, the only site of meager interest belonging to a girl traipsing out of a large window and climbing down a fire escape — a college kid sneaking out of her parents' to head to a party, maybe, or the mistress of a man whose wife just got home from a long shift. Achillas chuckled wryly at the uncommon normality of it, this little world of the neighborhood at 3am such a far cry from the rest of the city during daylight hours.

...Then again, perhaps not. Sounds of distress found his ears soon enough as he neared the dead-end alleyway into which the girl from the fire escape must have barreled down. Out of instinct, Achillas stayed in the shadows to survey, military training superseding the heaviness of his lids and fogginess of his sleep-deprived mind. One woman, cornered and frightened, and two men, armed with knives and fists, practically salivating over their caught prey. Stepping out from his hiding spot at the opposite end of the alleyway, he called out, "Well, shit, fellas. I didn't think I'd be scuffing up my new boots so soon, but... What do you say we make this a fair fight, huh?"

It started with a shriek that warned security that there was an intruder. And now she was being chased down a dark alleyway. Her purse was small and didn't actual hold anything that she'd stolen, instead the items rested on the inside of her thigh in a small bag that was strapped there and hidden beneath her skirt. She'd thrown her hoodie away in an attempt to melt away into the crowd but that was futile with the larger men on her heels. Her steps slowed when she recognized Achillas and made it just past him, peering over her shoulder towards the men who slowed in turn.

"Move aside. It has nothing to do with you. This bitch stole from your boss and we just want it back." Rosa turned around and extended her hands. The thin thank top and skirt held no visible lumps and bumps that indicated she could have anything on her. "Where do you think I've hidden things? You want to pat me down?" She taunted him and peered back at Achillas when the grown men stepped closer and didn't seem like they were ready to let her leave. "Trust me, boys. You don't want the heat he's packing. He'll hurt you, permanently. Cut your losses and fuck off. "

Receiving only mumblings in response, Alessandro beckoned Morena forward, keen on exploiting the man's weakness more than he already had. "Very well. If you can't tell me... Surely, you can tell Miss Aguirre." His fingers slid along the sculptural lines of her body before resting at the alluring curve of her hip, baiting the senator with flagrant possession of what Alessandro knew the man simply could not resist. "Morena, remind me again how disappointed you are in the senator. He accepts a pretty penny from me, yet stops gracing my club with his presence, refuses my calls, reschedules our meetings... What do you think, principessa? What would be a fitting apology from one of New York's most illustrious public servants?"

ren slowly crept close-by, eager to hear parts of the conversation. luckily for her, her presence wasn't forgotten and she was soon put on a pedestal and asked to do what only came naturally to her. "an apology or punishment?' she asked with a tilt of her head as she looked over the senator. they were a distance away that it provided slight privacy, but the thrill of being caught still clung in the air. "i think he should clean my heel. the toe of it is quite dirty." her gaze held the senators as she jutted her foot forward. "you would look so much better on your knees." she could note his excitement immediately. it was almost too obvious that a man like him would want to be ordered around, all she hoped was that alessandro, or his staff, would be quick enough to capture a picture. nothing like a little blackmail to ensure that deals were kept. "..not with your hands."

"It's a lot up in the air right now with people pointing fingers left and right." that was always the tricky part, trying to figure out what was real and what was an attempt and making them look a different direction. "they weren't." that much was clear so it was their job to figure who had done it. "have you heard anything? did any of the victims say something?"