54. Begging, Bartering, and Betting

Date Written: April 28, 2019

Date Posted: October 31, 2020

Summary: Due to Seborga's plight in romance concerning one French Nation, Veneziano has no choice but to play by her rules.

Notes:

Veneziano knew what it was like to be at his wit's end, to feel the spirit of desperation clutch at him and whisper intangible solutions in his ear. He had been made to heel after his stint as the most wealthy of the Mediterranean. He was forced to surrender and draw back after one of the most heinous conflicts in human history. Time and time again, he had been beaten into the ground, his pride having to withstand such constant abuse. Yet, despite the trauma that he was forced to endure, he always knew how to pick himself back up.

And so, it was with a heavy heart and even lighter pockets, that he faced an opponent that he had knelt to in the past, present, and what seemed to be his unfortunate future.

"You've been shuffling cards for the past two and a half minutes." Monaco's gloved hand rested on the stem of a wine glass while her warm brown eyes twinkled in blatant mischief. Languidly, she sat in a chair, almost as if she were an indulgent queen basking in adoration of an audience. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were scared."

North Italy uneasily shifted. "Me? Shuffling cards for that long?" His voice slightly caught and broke at that. Immediately, the tips of his ears burned a bright red while his palms generated an excess of sweat. "I'm just trying to make sure the cards are completely shuffled!"

Another sip of wine. "Monsieur Italy, you are stalling and wasting my time."

"Just, umm…" A few cards that he had been shuffling abruptly fell from his sweaty palms onto the wooden table. "Ah, yes! I'm still trying to master that one shuffling technique that I saw on a game show once! You see, the magician—"

The blonde woman heaved a low breath before holding up a hand, which effectively caught off his speech. Normally, Monaco was willing to extend her patience for the benefit of playing a few games. One had to do that when was a sibling to the ever pretentious France and neighbor to countless Europeans. Unfortunately, the Italian had claimed that he was going to "give her a run for her money", but that had yet to be showcased.

"You want something. No—" She glared at him when she saw that he was about to speak. "—don't interrupt with one of your terrible excuses. If there's one thing Romano is better at than you, it's that he can spin a story worth telling. Anyway, just tell me why you're in my house and looking so nervous!" She perpetuated her statement with another sip of wine. At the rate she was going, she would probably end up drunk in about half an hour's time. "And don't cry!"

Veneziano blinked back his tears—a last resort to get her a little more sympathetic. It was the oldest trick in the book (penned by himself and co-written by his brother), but it appeared that he was growing out of it. He was quite sure when he checked his appearance that morning he still looked like a young man fresh out of his teens.

"I need you to date my brother."

Monaco blinked owlishly. "South Italy? Romano?"

Veneziano bit back a laugh at her incredulity. "No, my other brother."

"The Vatican?"

Okay, now he knew that she was toying with him.

"He's a celibate man and much too old for you. And don't bother asking San Marino; he's quite all right by himself. I'm talking about Seborga."

At that, the young woman rolled her eyes.

"Did he put you up to this? I already told him, he has to beat me in poker!"

"Exactly!" The forcefulness of the reply had Monaco nearly exclaiming in surprise before the Italian began dialing back his tone. "After he loses, he mopes, and starts complaining on social media! It's so sad!"

"And?"

"Can't you do something about that?" He dolefully looked at her, the full force of his gaze sent straight in her direction. Perhaps if he added a few stray tears he'll have a better—

Smack!

Italy's vision was plagued with impaired visibility. Quickly, he grabbed at the object that Monaco had flung at him. It was a lacy handkerchief with a few embroidered designs here and there. If he peered a little closely to check the handiwork, he could see—

England's handiwork?

Perhaps it was France's… Maybe he should pay a little visit to the French Nation after this…

"Dry your tears!" Monaco scolded. "You're a grown Nation who has brokered deals and treaties in the past, haven't you got anything to offer?"

"You mean you're willing to date him?"

Monaco rolled her eyes.

Geeze, Italians were all the same.

"What I'm trying to say is that if—" Here, she stressed the word. "—I were to date him, I would have to be compensated for my troubles." She raised a brow and ran a finger around the rim of her glass. "Heavily compensated."

Veneziano felt the absence of money in his pocket and hoped to God and whoever else that he would have a little leftover in the bank. It was one thing to be indebted to a powerful Nation. It was another to lose money just because of a poker game that he, of all people, shouldn't have been so bad at. If Romano caught wind of his plight…

Well…

He would either get a sound scolding from him or laughter and at this point—Veneziano didn't want to contemplate which was worse.

"What do you want?"

Monaco, with all the mischief and the pleasantness of a viper seconds away from striking, leaned forward and rested her chin within the cradle of her palms. Veneziano, ever the gentleman, tried his damnedest not to look too closely at how her actions accentuated certain aspects of her anatomy. It was at that this point Veneziano knew that he should have run away, should have turned tail and admitted defeat like he and a certain Frenchman and countless others had done in the past. However, his pride was on the line.

His brother needed him.

Dear God above and whoever else who saw fit to answer his prayers, what was he getting himself into?

Veneziano dealt the cards.

He allowed himself to look the slightest bit more conniving than he felt and leaned forward.

He hoped that his fear didn't show on his face.

"Whatever you want, tesoro."

Depending on the outcome of the game, he knew that he was definitely going to be paying more than his money later on, that was for sure.

Seborga better be grateful, that stupid stronzo.