Veronica Martin had to admit that the coming months were going to be a very interesting time in her life.

It wasn't very often that two big-name crime syndicates had the beginnings of a blood war broiling between them, and even less often that Veronica found herself employed opposite her brother in the proceedings. She and Charles tended not to pick sides when possible, and if choosing one or the other was required, they always tried to stick together. After all, they really cared for no one but each other. It was the code they lived by—never get attached. But the Connoghans had contacted her first, offering far and above a larger salary than she'd ever seen from the Morettis in her years of working for them.

So, as they say, it was an offer Veronica couldn't refuse.

For the time being, of course, she was still stationed in New York City, keeping her cover as assassin-for-hire while the pretense of 'talks' between the two families were still in the works. Connoghan had other plans in mind, she knew (because Veronica made it her job to know such things), but it didn't hurt her any to have a few weeks of down time as long as she kept getting paid. Plus it meant time to construct an alibi that could fool Charles. Her brother was smart. He'd figure her angle out in a second, and as long as he was still under Moretti employ, he could know nothing.

This then explained why Veronica found herself lounging about in one of the Moretti family’s favorite clubs, Bellissima, on a busy Friday night. Whenever she was in town working for the Morettis, everyone knew Veronica could be located in the back corner of the club, just close enough to the dance floor to hear the music, but far enough away that no outsiders would pester her while she had a drink or two…or five. Depended on her mood and the death toll she had racked up that night.

As she sipped her martini, her eyes roamed over the crowded room, figuring she might as well get a leg up on the competition while she still could. Sonny Moretti was the gun behind all of this feuding, word was on the street. If she could find him and bring him to Connoghan as soon as the talking was over, maybe she'd get a bigger commission for speeding things up.

Yet, her attention was drawn instead to a rather rowdy group at the other end of the bar. A tight circle of women and men were laughing loudly at something whoever sat in the center had told them. Obnoxious. Veronica loved a good party herself, yes, but Lord they all seemed to be falling over themselves to make sure this loud-mouth jerk remembered them.

'Oh Frankie, you're a killer.' One of the women crooned, stepping aside long enough for Veronica to glimpse a familiar-looking jawline.

Lovely...

Of course Franco Moretti was here tonight of all nights. Her very last moments of freedom, and he showed up to remind her what she'd be leaving behind when going to work for the Irish. Sure, they'd parted fairly amicably. But if she was found out, who knew if the tenuous friends-with-benefits relationship they shared could ever continue?

Common sense told Veronica to just ignore him. Just enjoy her drink,maybe dance if she felt like it, go home early and prepare for the war to come.

Yet...

As soon as Franco Moretti broke away from the fanclub that clung to him like flies to flypaper, Veronica found herself standing and silently following him through the crowd. She flowed through the bodies as if she were made of water, using the music to her advantage as her feet twirled her in rippling curves through the writhing crowd. Within moments she'd sidled up next to Franco as he crossed the dance floor, arms gently wrapping around his shoulders from behind.

"Hello, Franco." Veronica murmured in his ear. "Long time, No see..."