Time Square, New York, New Year's Eve 1983

Liora stood on the balcony of the luxury hotel overlooking Time Square. Below her the tiny bodies of thousands of people writhed like an ant mound that had been poked with a stick. All of the small beings seemed to run to and fro as if in a panic. Maybe they were. They were on the cusp of a new year after all.

She was in this hotel room alone. Even if she was down there in the middle of all of those people, she would still feel alone. She always felt alone. Long ago she had learned anyone she loved, and on the even more rare occasion someone genuinely loved her back, that love as well as their life would always temporary.

From early on she knew what she was and where she had came from. The loyal servant Dio had given her to after murdering her mother made sure she knew all about her father. The woman, who had obviously been in love with him for reasons Liora could not comprehend, had told her stories about Dio like most children are told fairytales at bedtime.

The Prince Charming she heard about was a vampire who did not get the girl, and to add insult to injury, was pursued and killed by the man who took her away from him. Her boogeyman was Jonathan Joestar and anyone bearing the Joestar name who would surely come after her and kill her too.

When she was old enough, Liora began investigating for herself to find out the truth about Jonathan Joestar. Just as she suspected, he was the true and tragic hero of the story. Dio was nothing more than a bitter, ungrateful brat who had figuratively spat in the face of the man who adopted him to save him from his life of Hell on Earth. Rather than accepting the people who offered him a better life and unconditional love, he turned on them and murdered them both.

Liora climbed up on the narrow wall surrounding the balcony. As she gazed down at the milling crowd below, she recalled standing in the middle of the burnt out remains of the Joestar manor, swearing to never drink a drop of blood - never to truly become what her father was. She never went back to her adoptive mother to avoid having any connections with Dio. She not only left the country but got off the continent as quickly as she could to come to America.

Despite being ninety-five years old, she barely looked twenty. Her perpetual youth had been used to her advantage over the years enabling her to endear herself to many rich men but never as their wife. Being a mistress was much more lucrative, however, it also left her very much alone. She never had quite gotten used to the sense of isolation and melancholy loneliness brought with it.

The wind plastered the white silk of her short chemise nightgown to her body. The cold wind cut right through her like knives. The freezing rain that started to fall stung her skin. She closed her eyes and raised her face to sky, accepting the pain of the pins and needles against her cheeks.

The people below started to roar; some screaming from the sudden onslaught of rain, others laughing because they were too drunk to care they were getting wet. Some people came prepared and their umbrellas started to pop open. No one ran away though because it was too close to midnight. The ball was about to begin its ascent to reach the apex where 1984 would illuminate to officially declare the beginning of the new year.

Liora opened her eyes. Rather than looking up at the ball, she looked down at the sidewalk below. Jumping from this height would kill her just as it would anyone. If her brain and heart remained intact, she would survive. Even if her brain stopped functioning or her heart ceased beating, as long as they stayed in one piece, she would return to life. She would go into a death like state while her body healed. And it would hurt like hell for long after she awakened while continuing to mend itself.

The sound of the glass sliding door being opened behind her caught her attention. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a massive blonde man stepping out onto the balcony.

"Dio?" she gasped in surprised, immediately recognizing him from a picture she had seen of him. It had been a black and white photo of him with his new family, George and Jonathan Joestar.

"Oh, so you do know who I am," he remarked, sounding surprised yet pleased. His mouth dropped into a lopsided, conceited smirk.

"Of course, I do...Father," she added with venom in her tone.

Dio advanced toward her, his steps confident and unhurried. Despite their dazzling ruby red color, his eyes were cold, hard, and lifeless - the eyes of an unfeeling, merciless predator. He was dressed in all black: turtleneck sweater, dress pants, wool pea coat, and leather boots which accentuated his skin so pale it was pink and his golden blond hair.

His red eyes glided away from hers to meander down her body to her toes. Liora twisted one of her spiral curls the same exact color of his hair nervously around her finger as he came closer. Rain dripped from her hair as she began to shiver.

"I didn't think the rumors could be true...that you were still alive," Dio said, his deep voice, a thunderous sound like a distant storm, foreboding of the danger to come.

"I could say the same about you," Liora returned, her lips quivering and her voice wavering.

Why are you alive?, she wanted to ask but allowed the words to die on her tongue unspoken. She did not care how he was alive. Creatures as devious and evil as him should not be allowed to live. The fact he looked human but most certainly is not made his existence even more disturbing.

"After seeing you, there is no doubt you are my daughter. I would have been a beautiful woman," he declared pridefully, his eyes skimming down her body again.

What an unbelievably arrogant and disgusting bastard.

His eyes halted at her breasts on their way back up to her face. The gossamer fabric of her gown had gone transparent from the rain and clung to them in the most lewd way made even more obscene by her taut nipples poking at the see through silk.

"You look cold, my dear. Take my hand," he said, extending his hand to her. "Come to me, and let me warm you."

Ew. Apparently he does not understand morals or boundaries either. Even the simplest and most obvious ones.

Liora glanced down at his outstretched fingers before looking at his face. At least his eyes had moved up to look into hers. His smile which relayed absolutely no kindness to his eyes made her feel colder, causing her to shudder.

"Take it." Stepping forward, he pushed his hand closer. His fingertips almost touched her belly causing her to suck it in to avoid an accidental brush from his hand. He revealed his top fangs leaving no doubt he had issued an order and not a request.

A light as bright as the sun flashed on behind her, illuminating his face. Dio winced and covered his face with his other hand while seizing her hand with the one outstretched her. They had lit the ball and the countdown was about to begin.

"Three!" the people below shouted in unison.

Dio snatched her down from the banister, pulling her into his large body as he backed into her room. His wide, solid chest was like hitting a brick wall.

"Two!"

Liora placed her hands on his chest, pushing back but his arms went around her to hold her in place. She felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped around her when his arm tightened as she uselessly wriggled to free herself. Her head snapped up, her eyes connecting with his that softly glowed like two embers straight from the fires of Hell. She held her breath as he stared down at her, silent and unmoving - just staring at her. Unable to control her body, the fear or the cold, both of which intensified greatly, made her tremble helplessly in his arms.

"Don't be afraid," he cooed to her softly with a mock gentleness.

Looking into his eyes gave her no illusion tenderness was something he was capable of.

"One! Happy New Year!" everyone shouted.

"Happy New Year, darling daughter."

Dio lowered his head toward hers. Liora turned her head so he kissed her cheek instead of her lips. His fingers squeezed her chin and tried to push her face back to access her mouth.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against chest to avoid another attempted kiss. Her belly fluttered as she panted for air when her lungs reminded her to breathe by aching. Relief washed over her when his hand dropped from her face. Nausea welled inside of her to find herself trapped in a possessive bear hug by his powerful arms.

"Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go," he said, stroking her head with one hand while holding her with the other arm securely hooked around her shoulders.

His words sounded distinctly like a threat from a menacing vampire rather than a promise spoken by a loving father.


Present day, Giorno Giovanna's Manor

"Shit," Liora gasped, opening her eyes as she was thrust from the disturbing dream of the past into wakefulness.

She stared at the hammered metal tiles painted white on her ceiling in the dim sunlight entering her room from under the curtains. The nightmares, the unbidden memories, is why she hated sleep and chose to avoid it as often as possible. Sometimes, she had no choice. Her body would shut down out of self-preservation. She needed the sleep as a respite from wakefulness if nothing else.

Dio was right. Even though he was dead, he had never let her go. He had always been a specter lurking inside of her because she would never NOT be a vampire. That man became even more of a terror when she was reunited with him on that New Year's Eve decades ago. He was one person she did not want to know first hand. Some things can never be forgotten - no matter how much one wants to forget.

Liora kicked off the covers. She might as well take a shower and get dressed. There would be no more sleep for her today.

After putting on a plain pastel pink sundress with red roses embroidered around the sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves, she went downstairs to find Giorno and Guido. Halfway down the stairs, she smelled something wonderful cooking and followed her nose to the kitchen.

Seeing Guido at the stove, kitchen towel flung over his shoulder, Liora paused at the arched open doorway to the kitchen to watch him. He stirred whatever was in the large burbling pot while humming to himself. He was dressed in black dress pants and a black vest with a white shirt underneath, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Lifting the wooden spoon, she could see a red sauce on it which he blew on before taking a taste. She smiled, covering her mouth to withhold a giggle as he smacked his lips together as if that helped him taste the sauce the better to figure out what was missing. He turned around to the table sized butcher's block behind him to retrieve some of the fresh herbs he had already chopped up.

"Oh, hi," Guido greeted her, scraping some of the basil into his hand before turning back to the pot to toss it in.

For once he seemed unbothered by her presence. Now might be a good time to have a civil conversation with him. Preparing lunch was keeping him distracted, and perhaps he would like a little assistance.

"Can I help with something?" Liora asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Sure. First, why don't you open that bottle of wine for us," he suggested, pointing to the bottle on the chopping block.

There was already an open bottle on the counter by the stove. He picked it up and poured some into the pot he was stirring.

She picked up the corkscrew sitting beside it noting there was only one glass. While she uncorked the bottle, he retrieved another glass before she had to ask for one. She turned to the stove, while he poured the wine into their glasses. Raising up on her toes to lean forward, she sniffed the bubbling red contents in the pot.

"Mmmm, smells good."

"Now for your second job," he said, handing her a glass of wine. He stirred the pot again, taking out the spoon and carefully extending it toward her.

Liora placed her hand under the spoon to catch any stray drips of sauce as she blew on it. Cautiously she took a taste. There was no acidic tang from the tomatoes indicating he had used fresh instead of canned and probably a little of the honey as well the jar of which sat among the half a dozen jars and bottles on the counter.

"Oooh, I love garlic," she cooed, taking another taste.

"I should have known," he chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "Does it need anything?"

"Uh uh. It's perfect."

"Fantastico."

Liora smiled while seeing the big smile spread across his face. Her eyes moved over his profile while he went back to tinkering with the sauce, adding salt and tasting, despite her positive assessment of it.

His extremely wavy black brown looked so soft. She had no doubt if it was longer it would be hopelessly curly. Before her brain shifted into gear, her body acted. Reaching out, her fingers skimmed along the side of his head, reveling in the silkiness of his short locks.

"Oooh, it is soft," she murmured, immediately withdrawing her hand when he turned to face her. His already large eyes were open even wider now with astonishment. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm didn't mean to - "

"It's okay," he assured her, his eyes shriking to their normal size as the pink color of embarrassment tinted his cheeks. "I just...I just wasn't expecting that."

Neither was I, she thought, taking a drink of her wine.

"Where is Giorno?" she asked when he dropped down to a squat to open the cabinet in order to get another pot.

"He is in a meeting. He will be back soon," he said, placing the pot on the stove.

"You didn't go with him? I thought you were his bodyguard."

"I am. However, I am not the only one. What kind of family would we be if we did not have many protectors among us? There are quite a few capable men in this organization. I thought I should stay here." He shrugged, grabbing the arm of the faucet attached to the backsplash behind the stove and swinging it over the pot.

"To keep an eye on me?" she added, twisting the knob to begin filling the pot with water.

His eyes met hers. They were so dark, almost like two bottomless pits in his head. But they were not empty and certainly not devoid of emotion. Presently he looked at her with only the slightest bit of unease, a little curiosity, and perhaps a smidge of pity.

"Yes," he admitted. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't trust you. Surely you can - "

"I understand," she interrupted him, forcing a smile to her lips. "I really do understand what it's like." She sighed, turning her back on him to refill her glass. He had not even touched his. "Especially when they suddenly pop into your life unwanted and out of nowhere."

"Well, since Giorno will be home soon, why don't you help me finish by getting the table ready?"

"Sure. Where are the plates and silverware and napkins? I can set the table," she offered.

"You know how to do that?" he asked, opening the cabinet door to his right to reveal the plates.

Liora tossed her hair over her shoulder with a grunt of offense which caused him to smile. She brushed past him, purposely bumping his back with her shoulder.

"Of course I know how to set a table. I can set a formal dinner table for twenty guests. I'm a vampire. Not a mannerless cretin," she said. "How many plates?"

"It will be just the three of us," he replied, opening the drawer to show her where to find the silverware.

"Where are all of the rest of the men? Do you ever have family dinners?" she inquired, getting the forks, spoons, and knives.

"Most family dinners are me and Giorno. The men have homes and families of their own that they go to every night. A few of the single guys rotate patrols here just like any other security job. And I live here with Giorno," Guido explained, handing her three forest green cloth napkins from another drawer.

"He's in good hands then. He will always be safe from harm." She could not help but smile when his cheeks darkened to a bright pink flushing with pleasure from her compliment.

"You can just set the table over there. We only use the formal dining room when we have an organization family dinner."

Her arm grazed his back when she passed behind him to go to the table that resembled a much heavier sturdier wooden picnic table with benches on each side and chairs at each end.

"I'm glad to see you came out today. You don't have to always stay in your room you know. You're free to explore the house as you like. You're not a prisoner here after all. It's your home now too," he said, pouring salt into the pot for the pasta. "For a little while at least."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

Liora felt as if she had been punched in the gut. He was quick to remind her this was her temporary home. Hell, all of her living arrangements had been temporary by virtue of what she is. Being a vampire who never aged and never dies forced her to move frequently to keep people from growing suspicious - or murderous.

Then there were those rare times she was given a miracle, a blessing; when she found someone to truly love her, to make a real home. Eventually that person would die so she left to run from the heartache. However, some things cannot be outrun.

She never intended to stay here forever. She was aware she had invaded their lives out of the blue. But she hoped to remain for an extended length of time to get to know her baby brother. That could not be done in a few days.

Looking up from placing the silverware, she gazed at Guido Mista. Although he no longer seemed angry about her intrusion, he made it crystal clear he did not want her to stay for long. Despite his hesitancy at her staying and his continuing distrust of her, she believed she wanted to get know him better too.

Since Guido struck her as a man who appreciated finer things, who enjoyed little extravagances and indulgences, she folded the napkins to form a pocket into which she inserted the silverware. After placing the neat and decorative packet of utensils in the middle of the shiny red plates, she placed one at the head of table for Giorno because he is master of this house.

Liora inadvertently shuddered as chill ran down her spine like ice water from the concept of calling another man master. However, she was positive Giorno would never force her to do such a thing. He was the kind of man to earn loyalty and trust by his altruistic actions driven by a genuinely righteous personality - not forced through fear and torture.

Her eyes went back to Guido Mista. He is definitely a good man too. One willing to protect her brother at all costs. He had no doubt risked his life, and possibly almost died, for his boss and friend. She placed the other plates opposite of each other, one on either side of the end.

"He's on his way," Guido announced, placing his phone back down on the counter.

"Oh, good. Did you make garlic bread?" she inquired, walking back toward him.

"Wow, you really do like garlic." He nodded toward the thin baguettes in clear cellophane bags from the store. "We'll make some. Cut those in half."

Liora was temporarily stunned and blinked at him. Apparently he trusted her to some degree since he readily turned his back on her and allowed her to use sharp kitchen tools like corkscrews and knives which could be used as weapons if she chose to do so.

"Have you ever made homemade bread?" she asked, opening drawers to search for a bread knife.

"I have not tackled that yet. That requires a degree of mastery in cooking and patience I have not yet acquired," he candidly admitted. "Have you?"

"I have. I'm pretty good at it. I can show you how sometime if you like," she offered, taking the bowl of what appeared to be hand churned butter from him. Her fingers brushed across the back of his hand. "Maybe you can teach me how to make that amazing sauce of yours."

"Sure. Sounds good. Cooking classes here at home could be fun."

Hearing him gamely accept her offer made her heart skip to a joyful beat. Liora crushed the cloves of garlic with the flat side of knife before dicing them into much smaller pieces to mix with the butter and spread on the bread.

Once the bread was in the oven, Guido handed her a massive wooden bowl. While waiting for him to spoon in the pasta and sauce, she studied the smooth, varnished surface. Light and dark striations of two different kinds of wood had been glued together to create the implement before it was covered with many coats of clear glaze to seal for use with food.

"Is this handmade?" she asked, stepping a little closer when he prepared to fill it.

"There's an old man in town who makes all kinds of beautiful things out of wood. He's a true master." His eyes met hers through the steam rising from the hot food in the bowl. "Would you like to go to his shop sometime?"

"I sure would," she replied hoping her words did not sound as breathless to him as they did to her own ears.

"It's a date then," he returned, the corners of his mouth twitching before edging upward into a smile.

"A date?"

He shrugged. "Just a phrase."

"Oh." Her eyes lowered from his to hide her disappointment.

"I'm back," Giorno announced as he walked into the kitchen. "What's this?"

"Lunch," Liora replied, pivoting on her heel to take the bowl to the table. "Hope you're hungry."

"I'm starving. It was a long meeting this morning but everything is finally settled to begin construction on the community center." Giorno sat down placing the pink bag with a white bow on it on the table before sliding it toward Liora. "I bought something for you."

Peeking into the bag, she immediately ripped off the bow tying the handles together when she saw the sketch pad. In the bottom of the bag there was a tin of charcoal pencils, a sharpener, and an eraser.

"I didn't know what else you might want or need, but I figured that would be something to use in case you get inspired," he explained as she looked at him with teary eyes.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she whispered, overcome by emotion due to his unexpected thoughtfulness. Leaning down, she kissed him on the cheek to show her gratitude. "I can't wait to get started." She cast a glimpse at Guido who was bringing the wine to the table. "I think I know what I want to draw first."

"Well, it have to wait until after lunch. Sit down," he ordered her politely before turning to go back to take the bread out of the oven.

"We can go to the art supply store sometime soon if you would like," Giorno said, pulling out her chair for her to sit down.

"That would be great! I can't wait to go shopping!"

She clapped her hands and bounced excitedly with childlike glee. Both men laughed at her as they took their seats.

"I like what you did with the napkins," Guido remarked before scooting the fancy folded pocket holding his silverware off of his plate.

"Being British, Dio did believe in a certain degree of decorum and manners. I can prepare us a high tea one afternoon if you would like."

"Afternoon tea? A pompous ritual centered around the act of drinking a cup of tea," Guido stated derisively, placing a heaping serving of pasta on her plate.

"It is, but there is some comfort and simple joy to be taken in such rituals don't you think?" she countered, setting a slice of toasted garlic bread on the edge of his plate.

"I suppose," he muttered, drinking some of his wine.

Giorno stayed quiet, his head swinging from Guido to Liora as they bantered lie someone watching a tennis match.

"There's also wonderful little finger sandwiches and scones with clotted cream and jam."

"Clotted cream doesn't sound very appetizing," Guido said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Oh, trust me it's delicious," Liora returned, twirling her fork in her mound of pasta.

"Speaking of rituals, I should take you on a passeggiata one evening," he told her.

"Passeggiata?"

"It's an Italian thing...an evening stroll through town. It's like a people parade where some just go to watch while others participate and aimlessly walk along the streets. It's a nightly ritual for entire families sometimes."

"It's much more fun with a family isn't it?" Liora asked, glancing at her brother who had been accidentally left out of the conversation.

"I believe it would be. We should all go," Giorno interjected. " We can get gelato."

"Can we do that tonight?" she asked, hopefulness raising her voice an octave.

"As far as I know we don't have any plans." Giorno glanced at Guido for confirmation.

"There's nothing on the schedule," he responded, shifting into his role of executive assistant.

"Fantastico! Mangiare, mangiare!" Giorno exclaimed, waving his hands to encourage them to eat.

Conversation delved further into the subject of the passeggiata. Guido and Liora discussed what they should wear while Giorno smiled and ate his food. After determining their ensembles for the parade of people, the two men began choosing the bar they would visit for cicchetti after their walk.

When lunch was over, Liora insisted on doing the dishes and putting away the leftovers. Not only did she want to show her gratitude and do her part to help out with the household chores, she knew there was important business for the two men to attend to. She appreciated their purposeful intention to steer clear of discussing business matters while eating.

Once the kitchen was clean, Liora took her gift and went to the reading room just off the patio to draw. Going off of her memory, which she always did out of necessity, she put pencil to paper and started sketching the lines of Guido's jaw. Before she knew it, hours had passed, and she held an almost complete picture of him in her hands.

"Liora? Liora!" Giorno called to her, his soft voice getting louder to break through the creative daze she was in.

"Huh?" She tore her attention away from the pad and looked up at him, her eyes not quite focusing yet. "What time is it?"

"Almost six."

"Shit," she muttered, realizing for the first time how stiff she was from sitting in the same position for over four hours straight.

"Time to get ready to go into town," he informed her, placing his hand on her neck to massage the sore muscles as she rolled her head from one shoulder to the other to work out the soreness.

"Hmmm," she sighed, closing her eyes and relishing his strong but gentle fingers kneading her cramped shoulders. "Can I draw you sometime?"

"Sure. Would you like for me to pose for you?" he joked, chuckling lightly.

Liora opened her eyes, tilting her head back to look up at him while he stood over her.

"Actually, I would. Do you mind?" she asked, placing her hand over his to still his fingers which accidentally pinched the tight muscle.

"Not at all," he responded with a sweet smile on his face. "Have you ever done a self-portrait?"

"No," she replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I don't think I could stand staring at myself in a mirror that long."

"But why? You're beautiful," he complimented, the fingers on her shoulder flexing while the fingertips of his free hand drifted over her cheek.

"Every time I see my own face, it reminds me of him. I hate him. Things he said." She swallowed with an audible gulp to push down the lump in her throat. "The things he did."

"But you said I look like him," he reminded her, coming around to the front of the chair to squat down in front of her. "Do you hate my face too?"

Liora placed her palms on his cheeks as he gazed at her. There was a deep seated, permanent sadness that nothing could ever diminish in their lively, fern colored depths she recognized from her own eyes. Another lasting legacy passed on from their father instilled by his abandonment.

"No. I love your face. You may look like him, but you are nothing like him," she said, her voice weakening into a whisper as the tears welled at her bottom eyelids.

"That goes for you too. So..." He covered her hands with his, pulling them away from his face to hold them between his. "Learn to love yourself."

"Hmph," she snorted without meaning to.

"I'm serious," he countered.

"Hey, are you two coming or are we going to do this another night?" Guido asked, poking his head into the room.

"Maybe we should do this another night," Giorno suggested, letting go of her hands and standing up.

"No. Give me a few minutes, and I'll be ready to go," she said, placing the sketchpad on the table with the rest of the pencils and the unused eraser.

Once Liora was out of the room, Giorno picked up the drawing to look at it. She had drawn Guido's profile with her hand reaching toward him, her fingers barely touching the wispy beginnings of curls at the tip of his ear. She had drawn every intricate wave of his hair, capturing on paper its lush thickness.

"Wow...this is..."

"Let me see." Guido stood beside Giorno to examine the sketch. "Amazing."

"Yeah," he agreed wholeheartedly.

"She really does like my hair," Guido said, taking the pad from Giorno's hands.

"What?" His eyes went to his friend who was still mesmerized by the sketch.

"Ready!" Liora exclaimed, coming back into the room.

"Wow," they both breathed in unison upon seeing her.

"It really did only take her a few minutes," Guido commented in shock and awe.

She had not bothered with make up. She did not need it anyway. There was a natural blush on her cheeks from their reaction to her. She had wrapped a large shawl like scarf around her shoulders. The thread woven throughout the black, brown, and pink pattern resembled strands of her hair. Thin strips of leather from her flat brown gladiator sandals wound around her ankles and calves up to her knees.

"Let's go then," Giorno announced.

Since they walked into the village from the manor, they made their stop at the gelato stand first. As they strolled through the street, they were often stopped by passers by who thanked Giorno or Guido for one thing or another. It was like walking with a celebrity. Everyone knew Giorno Giovanna. Considering his notoriety was for all the right reasons, this became a source of pride in her brother for Liora.

The older women who talked to him glanced at her with curiosity until Giorno introduced her as his sister to which they would nod and smile and remark about their resemblance as siblings. Some of the younger women continued to sneer at her jealously or eye her with suspicion despite learning of their familial connection.

A few of the men gave her stares that were too long and too forward, relaying less than honorable intentions to which the two men escorting her would move to stand shoulder to shoulder to form a protective wall in front of her to block the lecherous man's view. For once in her life, she had someone to protect her from predators.

A little after eight, tired and hungry, they stepped into a bar for a bit of refreshment. Apparently this was a place Giorno frequented, and the owner knew he needed privacy as to not be bothered by well meaning people. They were led to a private room in the back to avoid being disturbed during their drinks and food by polite, but disruptive nonetheless, interruptions.

"You really are an amazing man," Liora said, picking up the ice cold glass of water as soon as it was placed in front of her.

"You're surprised? You said I would be one after all. Did you think you would be wrong?" Giorno teased her.

"Of course not. I'm never wrong," she joked back with feigned overblown self-assurance. She finished off the glass of water and sighed heavily.

"What was it like living with our father?" Giorno inquired, refilling her glass from the silver pitcher left for them.

"Awful," she answered curtly. Summing it up in one word did not quite capture just how bad it was but she did not want to ruin what had so far been a really good evening.

"Will you tell me more about him?"

"Sometime. But not tonight. Please," she pleaded, casting a quick glimpse at him before staring into her glass frosted over with condensation. "This has been such a wonderful evening."

"Did you want to come back into town tomorrow to visit the woodworker's shop?" Guido inquired to change the subject and restart the conversation.

"Oh, I'd really like that," she replied, thankful for his perception to intercede before things became unbearably awkward.

Their attention turned to the menus to choose an assortment of appetizers and little bites to form their light dinner. Wine was also ordered.

After dinner, they walked a little more around the plaza then returned home. At the top of the stairs, Guido bid them goodnight and turned to the left to go to his room. Giorno walked her to her room.

"Thank you. For everything," Liora said, feeling as if her words failed to capture the true extent of her gratitude.

"Thank you for being here. When you disappeared that night at the art gallery, I thought you had abandoned me again."

"It took me a while to work up the nerve to reveal myself to you again," she confessed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I was afraid of how you would react. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. But I wanted to try, to see if there was a chance we could get to know each other."

"I'm glad you did," he returned, smiling at her. "Good night."

"Good night."

Liora did not have the heart to remind him she stayed awake all night and would not be going to bed. She went into her room and took a shower. After putting on her long white silk nightgown and robe, she went to the reading room to draw.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise when Guido entered the room. "Can't sleep?"

"No. I came to get a book to read. Might as well keep my mind occupied rather than laying awake thinking and driving myself crazy," he said, wrapping his already secure robe more tightly around his body.

He tugged at the collar of his maroon robe, pulling it up high to cover his neck almost up to his earlobes. Rather than being offended, Liora was amused by his actions.

"Sorry, I..." His words, his excuses, remained unspoken. "I'm an asshole."

"Ah, you're fine," she assured him, flipping over the page to the start a new sketch. Since he was in front of her, she might as well take advantage having a present model. "I can't say I wouldn't react differently. Besides, you don't really know anything about me yet."

"Well, I do know you're not like any of the vampires in the books. They got it all wrong," he said, his eyes skimming the spines of the books on the shelves.

"They are still entertaining. I have to admit I've read quite a few of those vampire novels myself."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, a crooked half grin on his face. His eyes sparkled mischievously despite the low light in the room. Her belly tightened as she inhaled sharply. That was the expression she wanted to capture.

"Even the ones with the sparkling vampires?" Guido asked her.

"Uhm, no. Definitely not those. Ew," she muttered, her face pinching with revulsion.

Guido laughed. She adored hearing that sound from him. He had a great laugh. It wasn't particularly loud but definitely sincere as if it came straight from his chest, his heart. There was a slightly throaty edge to it that danced across her nerves making her fingers and toes tingle.

"Well, I found one. I won't bother you any longer. Good night," he bid her, stepping toward the door.

"Wait!" she cried out, her voice squeaking from the sharp rise. She cleared her throat as he leaned back into the room.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"Actually, unless you just really want to read in bed, I would prefer you stay. It would be nice to have in front of me so I could draw you in even greater detail."

"Even greater detail?" he repeated questioningly, backing into the room. "Your drawing was incredibly detailed. It was amazing. You made me even better looking than I actually am."

"Oh, you really are very handsome, Guido," she assured him, then gasped after realizing she had spoken the words aloud. "OH!"

Liora could feel her face heating. Self-conscious and flustered, she dropped her pencil. She leaned over to pick it up but froze when his hand appeared in her line of sight. His thick fingers, slightly calloused as she recalled, picked up the pencil to hand it to her. Her eyes fixated on the back of his hand as she reached toward it. There were sparse curly hairs on the backs of his fingers below the second knuckle. She took the pencil from him, running the fingers of her other hand over the hair that extended above his wrist on the outer half of the back of his hand.

"Are you hairy everywhere?" she asked, once again taking herself by humiliating surprise at her bold candor. She avoided looking into his eyes when she saw his face had turned as red as the tomato sauce from earlier. "Oh, my god! I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. I am so sorry."

"Well, I am Italian. So yeah, I'm really hairy. Everywhere," he said, sitting in the chair beside hers. He opened the book and held it up to cover his face. "Want to see sometime? For artistic purposes."

"Uh, yes, of course. For artistic purposes," she reiterated, pressing her lips together to stifle her nervous giggle.

Liora was not sure how long they sat together, him reading his book and her drawing him doing so. She now had three sketches to to put the finishing touches on sometime. His soft snores broke her out of her trance.

She glanced over at him to see the book had flopped forward onto his chest to hold his place after he fell fast asleep. Putting her sketchbook on the table, she approached him carefully picking up the book to lay it face down on the table as not to lose where he stopped reading. Leaning into him, sliding her arms around his shoulders, she hugged him as she lifted his body with ease from the chair and moved him to the couch. Taking the blanket from the back of the couch, she lay it over him.

For a long moment, Liora gazed down at the sleeping man. She resisted the urge the trace his lusciously full red lips with her finger which were puffed out in a pout with sleep. He was truly beautiful but he couldn't see it either. She sighed sadly.

She jumped back at least two feet when he groaned and shifted into a more comfortable position on the narrow space of the couch. He flung one arm over his head and kicked one leg out from under the blanket she had lovingly tucked around him.

Covering her mouth, she chuckled - at him and herself. Feeling like a weirdo for lingering too long, she took her sketchpad and pencils to return to her room. Dawn was coming anyway. It would be her bedtime soon. Perhaps she could sleep and dream a good dream for a change.


Author's note: Translations for the Italian words...

passeggiata - a tradition across Italy in which families, friends, children, and acquaintances stroll through the streets in the center of the town.

mangiare - eat or eat up

cicchetti - small plates or snacks