Rome

It was five o'clock that evening before Nicholas returned to the hotel. By that time, Starling was fully awake, having taken a few hours asleep with accordance to Dr. Lecter's statement that she should be thoroughly exhausted after their productive morning. Indeed she was, more than she realized until he said so himself.

Nicholas stopped in the doorway and blinked at her, as though she were an intruder. "You're here," he muttered, withdrawing his key from the lock.

Starling frowned, having been standing in the middle of the room, holding the specified dress out for inspection of wrinkles, and looked at him strangely. "Why do you sound surprised?"

"I've been trying to call you all day."

{Sorry I couldn't hear the phone.}

That sinful thought made Starling grin, but she flashed it away before he could notice.

A minute later, Nicholas' eyes traveled to her dress and his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Going somewhere?" he asked skeptically.

"I thought we could try this again," Starling explained. "Seeing as the evening you planned last night was interrupted…I thought we'd forget it happened and try to recreate everything…pretend today was the first day. I'm sorry things haven't gone your way, and I feel a need to make it up to you."

{You lying little…if anything, this is going to pour salt on the wound…}

Starling forced herself not to listen to that voice. After the ride – so to speak – Dr. Lecter gave her that morning; she wasn't about to do something to jeopardize the fourth—

{Yes, count them, FOURTH!}

—chance to set things right. It didn't matter who she hurt anymore. If this was the way he wanted to do things, then by God, she'd obey.

Nicholas, though he knew through their conversation the night before that their relationship was doomed, seemed to brighten a bit. "Really, Clarice? We're going to Paoli again? What a great idea!"

A stab of guilt took her unrepentantly, and she swallowed hard, knowing what torment she was about to put this man through. However, she had the sinking sensation that what Dr. Lecter had in mind was his alternative to death, and she'd rather him live as a substitute for burdened death.

At least she hoped that was his motive. If it wasn't, she'd never forgive herself, yet she knew there was little she could do to prevent it, to say no. Even if Dr. Lecter did kill Nicholas, that wouldn't change anything. He possessed her now – he had for fourteen years. Especially after their climactic day together, Starling knew resistance was only a waste of time.

"What's that on your face, Clarice?" Nicholas was asking, stepping forward. It took his hands around her neck to draw her attention out of her reverie and to him, frowning at him slightly. "It looks like a bite mark."

Starling stared at him blankly for a few seconds, the impulse to laugh and laugh and laugh coming to her unwillingly. During his absence, she had discovered several bite marks, only one on her face – above her upper lip – and she was entirely surprised to discover there weren't any more. There were only four that she could count, any others being in inaccessible places. The one on her lip, one on her right arm, one – holding a rather large hickey-shaped– on her neck, and the last reclining against her left breast. Upon discovering these bite marks, she realized why he specifically requested her attire. Not one would be hidden from the public unless she went to extraordinary means to do so. Knowing what was good for her, Starling decided wisely to leave them all in plain view.

"It's nothing," she answered absently. "Don't worry about it."

Besides, seeing such marks on her might give Esamarla some premature warning of what was going on, and where her Dr. Wilkins had been all day. If, by chance, this was a cruel joke with herself as the pun at the end, she would at least enjoy ruining the relationship he was currently in.

However, Starling felt quite reassured that this was not one of his jokes. No one kissed like he did and didn't mean it. Memories of that afternoon flooded back, and she felt herself go red in the face just by thinking of them. How odd, the touch lasted long, or so it seemed, and already she found herself hungry for more.

They gave each other respectful space while preparing for that evenings event. The guilt streak that had tortured her before returned several times, but never enough to call halt to their newly arranged plans. Whatever Dr. Lecter had in mind tonight, she knew enough not to back out.

A thrill of anticipation ran up her spine as they stepped outside. She wondered how she would feel when she saw him again after that morning that stretched into afternoon, wondered if she'd be able to call him Dr. Wilkins after screaming his first name over and over again. Again her mind flashed to that afternoon, to hearing her name moaned as it rolled joyously off his lips. A shiver crawled up her skin as she and Nicholas stepped outside the relative warmth of the hotel.

The night air chilled her, but Starling declined Nicholas' pro-offered coat. No matter how intolerable weather conditions became, she would not risk the consequences of covering the marked places on her body. On Nicholas' request, she conformed to wear a scarf around her neck, yet made sure it was inches from shielding the signature of ownership.

If Nicholas was suspicious about the marks, he gave no indication. Though she offered no further explanation, he didn't seem disconcerted, perhaps already in the mindset that they were no longer together. It was unofficially official, but Starling had no idea how he would react to meeting Dr. Lecter tonight, to what he would say when the news of their day reached his ears, how he would see her when the bite marks were notably explained. Still, Dr. Lecter might make no reference to it at all. Starling had no feasible idea on how this meeting was to be executed.

As they restaurant came into view, Starling's eye caught sight of Dr. Lecter waiting outside with Esamarla. She forced all emotion from her face, forced herself to calm down before heat rushed to her face. She was determined to shield her overly active feelings, unwilling to let Dr. Lecter see how entirely giddy their encounter made her. Likewise, his eyes revealed nothing, as distant as always. When Nicholas stiffened beside her, Dr. Lecter read he had not been informed of this meeting. Not skipping a beat, he seized Starling's hand as they stepped before them and knelt forward, gently brushing his lips over her skin. He lingered there for a minute, longer than he should have, before bringing his eyes to hers.

"Good evening, Ms. Starling," he greeted, his voice doing a number on her that she almost forfeited then. Dr. Lecter noted this and surpassed a grin, turning to a slightly peeved Nicholas and offering his hand. "To you, too, Mr. Randall."

"Dr. Wilkins," Nicholas acknowledged through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?" His voice made no modesty in covering his irritated state.

"I suppose it is rather tactless to dine at the same restaurant two consecutive evenings, but alas, I felt compelled." Dr. Lecter failed to look to Starling as he turned to Esamarla and said, "You remember Mr. Randall and Ms. Starling, don't you, dear?"

Esamarla, whom had been glaring icily at Starling since they approached, nodded. "Yes, it's nice to see you both again," she said, her voice reeking of insincerity. Turning to Nicholas, she continued, "You did tell me this was going to be your first day in Florence, no?" Turning back to Starling, her eyes glittered like emeralds as though she had something to flaunt. "I trust it was a productive one?"

At her snide remark, Starling cracked a brief smile, one that satisfied her enough to keep her from bursting out into unstoppable giggles. The smile only remained for a minute, long enough for Dr. Lecter to catch. "Yes," she replied. "Quite relaxing, thank you."

Dr. Lecter apparently wanted to second that comment, but all he was able to get out was a content, "Mmm…"

Esamarla had noticed her bite marks and stepped closer for further inspection. "Oh my God," she muttered. "What happened? Did something attack you?"

That remark almost got her, and looking back on it in years to come, Starling couldn't think rationally how she was able to hold in her laughter. Apparently, it was a bit much for Dr. Lecter as well, and he had to turn his back to them, pretending to fiddle with the menus that were provided at an outside stand.

The lapse didn't last long, but long enough for Esamarla to take note of. "Yes," Starling said, her eyes subconsciously wandering to Dr. Lecter, whom had rejoined them. "Something attacked me, all right."

Again, Dr. Lecter provided a lovely view of his back, his mind apparently not made up from the previous examination of the menu.

When conversation failed to resume, Dr. Lecter turned back to him, the decision officially made. Offering his arm to Esamarla, he said, "Shall we?" as she took it and entered.

A look of pain flashed Starling. She couldn't stand seeing him with her. It was the ultimate test, she supposed, and if she were to survive this night and win him as the grand prize, she'd have to endure it.

As the waiter directed Dr. Lecter and his 'social companion' to their seats, he managed an inconspicuous turn and winked reassuringly at Starling. It soothed her a bit, though not much. Soon, this would all be over with.

She only wished she knew what was up his crafty sleeve.

* * *

As they were led to their table, Starling couldn't help but wonder if Dr. Lecter had arranged the location of the two parties seating arrangements prior to their arrival. Fortunately Starling and Nicholas were accommodated almost directly next to Dr. Lecter and his companion.

{Social companion.}

The only people not outwardly pleased at this turn of events were Nicholas and Esamarla. Several other guests at the restaurant had noticed Starling's rather ambiguous bite mark on her lip, as that was the one that jumped out the most. Some sweeping gazes might have concluded her other marks, but most did not as starling was a rudeness not much would consider.

If anyone was caught staring, a subtle yet threatening look from Dr. Lecter waned them off. Any suspicions as to how such bites came to be were satisfactorily unsuggested as the night proceeded.

Starling reveled in how calm she was able to maintain her emotions. With all they'd been through, she suspected tonight would be uncomfortable, this all cascaded with the supposed feeling of adultery. If anything, she felt more like she was betraying Dr. Lecter by appearing here with Nicholas.

As if he sensed this thought, Dr. Lecter suddenly smiled, quick and unnoticeable. He failed to direct it at her in any manner, but it reassured her nonetheless.

One thing Starling noted was how the convenience the nearness of their neighbors disabled either Nicholas or Esamarla from complaining about this arrangement. Starling briefly entertained herself with exchanging icy glances with Esamarla, but that grew tiresome and she settled to bluntly ignore her.

Dinner was good, silent overall, and somewhat uncomfortable. Starling continuously attempted to establish eye contact with Dr. Lecter, which he politely declined to grant. Everything gathered a surreal atmosphere, and just when Starling thought she was going to lose her mind to this never-ending anticipation, the unexpected happened.

Esamarla stood and approached Nicholas, smiling warmly and extending a hand. "Would you care to dance?" she asked.

Blank stares from the peanut gallery. Everyone was motionless for a long moment. Nicholas remembered himself in good time and nodded, standing to meet her. "Certainly," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Starling muttered softly, "Do you think she's up to something?"

Dr. Lecter mused thoughtfully. "Hmm. Esamarla does have a devious streak, and she tends to act on innocent ingrates when granted the chance." His eyes traveled to hers at last, and she felt a thrill of ecstasy and triumph in response. "No matter. Would you care to escort me to the dance floor? It seems that is what they expect, and you know how I hate to disappoint a waiting audience."

It was the invitation she had been waiting for all evening. Sweeping herself into his embrace, Starling found her patience had endured more than ever before with this incessant waiting, that she was no longer able to stand the brutal torture. After their amazing encounter earlier that day, it was a miracle she had been able to withstand pouncing him outside. Never before had she known a touch like that, one that hurt but in a good way, one that contained equal charisma to drown out the vindictiveness. It occurred to her now that Dr. Lecter had taken his revenge out on her, but likewise trapped himself in a web she doubted he wanted to escape.

Of course, Dr. Lecter sensed her impatience, her wanting very much for this evening to be over. It pleased him immensely, the rare knowledge that she was at last corrupted. To torture her further or to end this charade for what it was now? No, he settled on torture. It was too maddeningly fun.

As she clutched to him, allowing him to glide her across the dance floor, weaving in and out of other couples, even passing Nicholas and Esamarla a time or two, he maintained control and though he was not modest with his own desire, he made it perfectly known that now was a time to wait. After a few minutes, he lowered his head to the side of hers, his voice making her tremble as it said in its menacingly desirable way, "My dear, dear Clarice. Patience is a virtue you do not hold. Trust me; the evening will come to an end."

"Lest I remind you, Dr. Wilkins, your own patience has a hole or two," Starling tossed back, enjoying the look that comment provoked.

"I believe the conditions are somewhat different now."

"How so? Whatever 'conditions' there were, they are mine now. You got what you want."

Dr. Lecter smiled. "Yes, and I continue to obtain my desires, Clarice. I am very much enjoying you flush whenever Esamarla insinuates a breech in your innocence. You must understand one does not willingly give up something that brings this much humor." With that, he released one of the arms that was linked around her and brought his hand into view, running his index finger over the course of the bite mark he had left on her lip earlier that day. "You made a wise decision in not covering that up."

"Yes, I know a thing or two," she replied, knowing he felt her breath tremble against the finger he kept at her lips, even as she spoke. "Besides, doing so would've caused us to miss those delightful comments your…social companion…made. I don't think I'd take those back for anything."

The hand at her lips was moving slowly down her neck, finding the scarf that luckily hung an inch below the second mark. With slow torture, he undid the knot and took it in both hands, running it seductively slow down her back and stopping just before it cupped her butt. "Mmm," he said, in a noise that implied neither agreement nor disapproval. "Indeed."

For a minute, Starling thought he might kiss her, but he did not. Instead, he pulled away, taking the scarf with him. Smiling his agonizing smile, he raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across it, never moving his eyes from hers. "Very well, Clarice," he conceded, making her heart stop. "I am going to go hold a conversation with Esamarla. I suggest you do the same with Nicholas. It is time to call this to an end."

With that, he disappeared, leaving the air in front of her chillingly empty. Nevertheless, Starling hardly missed a beat. She waited until Dr. Lecter parted the very unhappy-looking Esamarla and Nicholas, taking his soon-to-be former 'social companion' aside for a private chat. Once he was without a dance partner, Starling motioned for Nicholas to join her at the table.

Starling was startled to find herself calm about this. Where she expected a pounding heart, she found nothing but the thrill of getting this over with. The words were already with her, what she would say, what she had been planning to say since they arrived. She was actually going to stay in Florence, she was and she had more reason than she had ever idealized.

Once they were situated, Starling decided not to beat around the bush, to avoid the prologue of her decision and get directly to the point. "Nick," she said. "I've made a decision, about us and my future."

The lack of 'us' before 'future' made his face fall, and he knew what was coming. Not able to maintain eye contact for this, all he could do was nod for her to continue.

"Needless to say, I'm not going back to New York with you." There. She said it. It was out and she couldn't take it back, she didn't want to take it back.

{And the truth shall set you free…}

Just then, Esamarla walked back in, tears streaming down her face. At a leisurely pace, Dr. Lecter reentered as well, his features calm as always. He stopped near the entrance and looked to her, folding his arms behind his back patiently.

"Is this about Dr. Wilkins?" Nicholas demanded, suddenly angry.

{No need to lie, Clarice.}

"Partly," she answered, taking a brief stab to the heart when she saw the devastated and equally enraged look on his face. "But honestly, I knew I was going to stay the minute we stepped off the plane. It feels like home here."

"And there's no place like home," Nicholas said bitterly.

"Well," Starling countered, ready for anything, her eyes traveling back to Dr. Lecter and staying there a beat too long, drawn into his enchanting gaze. "No place like Florence, anyway."

Then he was gone, this man, this stranger before her. Nicholas moved hotly from his seat and began the dramatic illusion of storming out. His eyes landed on Dr. Lecter, who looked at him with a vague sense of disinterest.

"YOU!" Nicholas screamed, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant, causing everything to come to a frozen standstill.

Dr. Lecter lifted both brows expectantly.

"I want to talk to you outside," Nicholas said through his teeth.

From her table, Starling could do nothing but stare at this hopeless man, open-mouth in shock. She had the distant feeling that Dr. Lecter had almost forgiven the similar rudeness of the night before, but now Nicholas' own mother would be lucky to identify her son at the morgue. Though Dr. Lecter's cool shield of elegance didn't fail him, his eyes flashed with murder. There wasn't anything she could do; when she accepted this life she was about to embark on she also accepted his various pet peeves and his methods of dealing with them. This was not a decision she regretted, even when Dr. Lecter followed Nicholas outside. The most she could do was say a prayer to a God she didn't believe in for his soul.

Around her, conversation resumed, but she didn't notice. Even the tear-stained face of Esamarla Raizonne did little to please her. Starling's eyes remained on the entrance, waiting for Dr. Lecter and the verdict.

* * *