I'm the bad guy
Duh

- Billie Eilish - bad guy -

Lorna stayed in the garden for a few hours, walking through the flowers or sitting on one of the benches and trying that thing people were always talking about where she tried to just be in the moment without planning her next move.

The afternoon came and a man came out to find her, telling her that lunch was available, and she followed him back inside and was treated to a very tasty meal and then she wandered the large house until she found a library, and then she paged through several books until the evening, when the man came back to find her again, and invited her to dinner with Luciano. She accepted.

He greeted her at the door to his apartments, which seemed to occupy the southern wing of the house. The guards stayed at the door, and he brought her inside, closing the door behind them. "Thank you for agreeing to join me," he said, smiling. "I should warn you that there are security systems coded to my vitals in every room."

Well, that was going to make things complicated when she got around to killing him. Good to know, in any case. "Thanks for the warning," she replied with a chuckle, casting a curious eye around the room. Tasteful decorations and a subtle color palette. "And thanks for the dinner invitation."

"Of course. Come on through. We're starting with gazpacho. Would you like a glass of wine? Something else?" He led the way into a comfortable living space, with one side dedicated to dining, before it led into a sitting area with a view.

"Wine would be excellent, thank you," she smiled, following at his side. She whistled as she caught sight of the view, looking impressed. "Your home just gets more and more beautiful. Thank god you're employing me, because the only way I'm leaving is if you pay me to," she chuckled.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, picking up a decanter of red wine and pouring two glasses. "From our vineyard," he said, handing it over. "And you are welcome to enjoy your view for as long as you like. My door is open."

She took a sip of wine with an appreciative hum, then gave him a look of mild surprise. "To your own living quarters? My, my, signore. If I cared I'd be worried about people getting the wrong idea."

"I'd say it would be the right idea," he said, toasting her casually and heading for a small but beautiful dining table. Servers were standing by with a cart, and stepped forward as he approached, removing two bowls from ice and setting them in front of the two places at the table.

She followed him to the table, watching the servers work with their quiet efficiency, and mulled over the meaning of his words. "Well, I'd tell you not to show me any favoritism, but that's sort of my whole operating brand, isn't it?" She said as she stood behind one of the places at the table, the hand not occupied with wine resting on the back of the chair gracefully.

He pulled the chair out for her, and gave a half-smile. "It is, rather. Armetti, Moran... I'm interested to see what pulled them in."

She sat with a grateful nod, but smirked up at him cheekily. "What, the pretty package alone isn't enough?" She teased.

"I'm sure Armetti and Moran have seen plenty of pretty packages," he pointed out, rounding the table to sit as well. The servers left to a door that led to a kitchen, and he nodded toward the gazpacho. "Please, eat. Don't worry about formality. The chef insists on a certain level of decorum. I've learned to ignore it."

She tried a spoonful of gazpacho at his direction and found it to be delicious, humming her approval as she swallowed. "Mm, that's good. And I'm so used to formality by now - though I think part of my allure has always been that I'm willing to break with formality in fun and interesting ways. People like a charming troublemaker."

He nodded. "Nothing like the chill to beat the heat. As for the charming troublemaker, you've nailed that rather artfully."

She shot him a puckish grin over her glass of wine. "I'm often surrounded by big men with bad dispositions who are armed to the teeth. I had to develop a defense that would work. Pretty by itself helps, sure, but pretty, charming, and useful? Gives them a second's pause before they pull out their guns, which is enough time for me to do whatever I have to."

His grin was slow, contemplative, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to let it slip by. "I'm beginning to understand the appeal," he conceded.

The rest of dinner was served in short order- slow-roasted salmon, fresh gnocchi alfredo, a platter of cheeses and fruits. Luciano mostly concentrated on eating, but their conversation, when it occurred, was a light exchange of jabs: expert fencers, making their first experimental strikes.

When she'd finished the last bite of her meal she leaned back and sipped her second glass of wine while looking out onto the darkening view, though even this was calculated. Her occupied gaze gave him plenty opportunity to look his fill of her. A strategy she'd used for a long time. "So," she said, after a few minutes of silence, and turned her head back to look at him with her sharp grey eyes. "I'll approach it, because I have no pretenses of being coy. Are you looking for something similar to what Armetti had, or does the signore have a wife secreted away somewhere away from the rest of the world?"

"I'll point out that I doubt it would matter if I did," he said with a chuckle. "But no. No wife. And also no, not Armetti. Armetti worshiped you. I simply want to enjoy you. There is a difference." He stood to refill his glass.

Her smile was approving. "Good. I found the whole 'worship' thing a little stifling, as evidenced by finding Moran. Enjoyment I can do. Hedonistic pleasures are my whole shtick, after all."

He filled his glass, and glanced over to her. "A refill?" He held up the decanter. "What got you into this line of work, anyway?"

She finished her glass in a swallow and then slid it over to him for a pour. "Yes, please. And as for what got me here, I'm not sure any one event did it. A long, long road of other people making decisions and myself trying to keep from being buried under them..." She shrugged, shaking her head a little. "Criminal parents setting me up for immoral decisions, criminal abusive boyfriend giving me a grifter skillset, my fleeing the country and thus finding Armetti... The list goes on and on. There's no one else I was going to end up being." She finished with another shrug. "But I don't think I'd want to be anyone else."

"I can understand that. I think I am much the same, in many ways." He filled her glass, but rather than handing it back, he walked into the lounge area, offering it to her as incentive as he sat on the more comfortable couches.

"That doesn't surprise me, somehow," she smirked, and after a moment stood and walked over to stand beside him and pluck her glass out of his hand.

He smiled, a touch of triumph to it, but more playful than genuine. "Sit, won't you? It's been a while since I've had any decent company."

She sat beside him as invited, sipping her wine again. Normally, these days she wouldn't drink so much on a job, but she'd navigated enough of these evenings to sense where this might be going, and if she was going to follow through, she needed to be thinking less. "It's fortuitous that I arrived when I did, then, huh?" She smiled, resting one arm on the back of the couch. "Give you a chance to break up the monotony?"

"We'll see how fortuitous," he deferred. "I've yet to give up on the idea that you're likely trying to kill me. But I'd rather enjoy the exchange while it lasts. One of us may be dead in a few days."

"Well," she chuckled into her wine, "I can't begrudge you your caution. I've killed so many people. I know my promises will hold no weight, so," she shrugged, smiling. "Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

"Cheers to that," he said, raising his own glass. "May the best murderer win."

She gently clinked her glass with his, smirking, and took a big sip of wine before saying, "So is this the extent of what you're going to show me tonight?" She looked around the grand room, then back to him, mischief on her face. "Or are you saving the best for last?"

"This is just the first room," he said with a smile. "There's a hot tub and pool out on the patio, a home theater downstairs, my bedroom upstairs... Take your pick."

"Hot tub, no contest. We'll get to the others, hot tub first," she grinned, standing and finishing off her wine so she didn't have to bring it with her. She headed towards a door that looked like it led outside, looking over her shoulder at him with apparent excitement. "Am I hot or cold?"

He stood, bringing his glass with him, and nodded slightly. "That's the way. Out the sliding door, and to the right. The lights will come on for us." He followed.

Lorna followed his directions out onto the patio, which lit in a soft wave of lights as she walked forward. The hot tub itself was already bubbling away as she approached, her fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse. She was very glad now that she had left the little knife back in her cot.

He removed his own shirt as he approached, hanging it on a nearby hook and sitting to remove his shoes. He was surprisingly well-toned, though not very muscular. He glanced up at Lorna as she undressed. "A fan of hot tubs, then?"

"Get banged up as much as I have, and you find that hot tubs ease the pain of the tightest scars," she replied, folding her shirt and setting it on a wicker chair near the hot tub, and then unbuttoning her slacks and shimmying out of them, leaving her in her pants and bra. She toed off her shoes then stepped forward into the hot tub and sank down with a content sigh.

He removed his own trousers, leaving him in designer boxer-briefs, and walked over to climb in as well, about a quarter of the way around the tub. He settled in slowly, then turned to the control panel and activated the jets.

She leaned back into the hot, watery bubbles, and looked over at Luciano languidly. "I love these things. Need to get my own."

"As I said, you are always welcome here," he said, shifting until a jet was in a better place against his back. "But having your own is definitely worthwhile."

She hummed. "Someday I'll feel settled enough for one. Until then, yours will do."

He smiled slightly, leaning back and watching the last of the sunset fade. "So. What do you see yourself doing in my organization?"

"What do you see me doing?" She shot back, tilting her head curiously. "I can kill for you, I can lie for you. I can manage your people. You know my skill set."

"I do," he agreed. "And I know you'd be good at any of those things. Which is why I ask what you would like to do. You're a valuable asset. Your happiness is important to me."

She swirled her fingers across the surface of the water for a moment as she thought about how to approach her response. Would disarming honesty convince him of her intentions? So far it had gone well. She looked up from the water to meet his gaze with semi-seriousness. "I'm not concerned with happiness, signore. I don't need to be happy. The absence of misery is what I strive for. I would be content in any of the tasks I offered, so long as the work environment isn't a unique hell. And as you have just stated that my happiness is important, this obviously isn't a hellhole."

He considered her for a long while after that, turning over the implications. "That reveals a surprising amount about you, Ms. Harrison," he said finally. "I'm hopeful that some day I'll hear the stories that lead to that outlook."

She gave a tight smile. "Most people prefer not having heard them."

"I am not most people," he said, sipping his wine and setting it onto the patio next to him. "Neither are you."

"No, I'm not," she agreed. She was looking directly at him. It was a dare.

He shifted, then, standing up and wading over, stopping in front of her, looking down. He reached up to touch her chin, an inquiring touch, his expression calm, level.

She looked up at him steadily for a moment, and then slowly stood, in his space, breathing his air. She held his gaze for a long time, and then slowly leaned forward and up, brushing her lips over his.

He didn't chase her for it. He let her approach, let her kiss him first, met her with what she gave him with no reservation. He was interested, warm, inviting, but he pressed nothing forward, content to let her stalk him at her pace. When she stepped closer he slid an arm around her waist, enjoying her.

She pressed up against him slowly but tightly, chasing his warmth, her kiss becoming more hungry. She'd made Sebastian Moran fall in love with her. Getting this crime boss's obsession shouldn't be hard.

He turned to sit again, tugging her gently into his lap, though letting her decide if she wanted to follow, staring up at her in the twilight with an interested expression.

She followed easily, sitting sideways in his lap, winding her arm around his neck and kissing him slowly again, before smirking against his lips. "Doubtless you have cameras all over this compound - if I see a video of me in this hot tub circling the internet, I'm going to be a little upset."

"Why on earth would I blow your cover like that when I can benefit from your secrecy?" he asked with a snort. "Besides, I'd be in such a video, as well." He slid a hand up her bared back, tracing her spine.

"People have gotten creative with censoring videos before," she pointed out, fingers sliding into his hair, nails dragging against his scalp. "As for why you would, well, men have done stupider things for revenge or pride than posting a video," she murmured, and tightened her fingers in his hair a little, gauging what he would do.

He tilted his head a little into her grip, but his grey eyes remained cool, and maybe a touch amused. "You make a fair point. Though I make a point to avoid doing stupid things." He gripped the back of her neck in exchange for her grip on his hair.

She grinned, the hand not in his hair firm against his side, nails just barely grazing his skin. "Some might say that putting your hands on me is a stupid thing to do," she told him in half a whisper, tugging his hair once, twice, still smiling. "That I'm a risk, though what kind exactly I'll leave up to you... But either you don't think I'm a big enough risk to avoid, or you just like to play with fire." She leaned forward against his grip, and nipped the corner of his jaw, the hand on his side dragging down to the waistband of his boxer-briefs. "Which is it?"

"I've already told you that I know how much of a risk you are," he pointed out. "That I still expect you to try to kill me... Does that sound like I underestimate you?" His fingers were long, and they curved under the line of her jaw, grip still playful.

"No," she chuckled, concedingly. "So you're an arsonist, then," she concluded, and leaned back a little so she could meet his eyes again, a few inches of distance between them. She didn't know what it was - maybe the alcohol, maybe the isolation on this strange fucking job, maybe the stress of her intense worrying for Sebastian - but she didn't feel like being afraid of this man right now. This was method acting at nearly its finest, and wasn't that her best bet? Leaning hard into the illusion? What lies would there be to sense? Her hand left his hair, sliding around his face, running along his jaw, her thumb tracing his bottom lip. She was silent for a long moment, staring at him with all the intensity of a hunter giving its prey just a few more seconds of defiant life before leaping forward to snuff it out. "So.. what, then?" Lorna asked quietly, slowly. "Do you play with fire because you think you can win? Or do you play with fire because you know it'll eat you?"

"I play with fire," he said, meeting her gaze, an equal match, "For the same reason you do. Because either could happen. That's what makes it enjoyable." He pressed his hips up against hers slowly, an invitation, a dare. "So what do you think? Are you willing to play?"

She said nothing in response, just smirked and leaned in to kiss him properly, adjusting her position on him to be able to more comfortably roll her hips down on him.

He was clearly pleased with this outcome, and rocked against her slowly. His fingers found the clasp of her bra, undoing it with surprising deftness and pulling it forward down her arms.

She released the grip on his hair to let him get rid of the bra, then returned her hands to him at the waistband of his briefs, where she pinged the elastic under the water.

He looked up at her, grinning. "Here, or take this inside?" he asked, tilting his head toward the house.

"Wherever you'd be most comfortable, signore," she chuckled, "I'm... Mm, flexible ."

"Then by all means," he said with a smile, sliding his hands down her sides and tugging down the waistline of her underwear.

She slid off his lap to pull the underwear off, then straddled his waist again, now fully nude, and cupped his jaw to kiss him again.

He shifted his boxer-briefs off beneath her, tossing them aside. He made a contented sigh at the silky feel of her skin against his in the water.

She ground down on him impatiently, fingers tight on his jaw as she kissed him harder. She wished it was Sebastian she was about to fuck, but she couldn't have everything.

He met her enthusiasm step for step, his hand finding her hips to pull her forward, his cock brushing against her and nudging at her entrance. "Go on. I'm clean and cut."

She bit his lower lip as she sank down on him and let out a shuddering breath, rolling her hips down on him a little as she adjusted, her fingers tight on his shoulder.

He was a bit shorter than Sebastian, but made up for it in width. He smiled as he waited for her to set her pace, a patient man, though she felt fantastic. He leaned his head back against the cool stone of the patio, hips flexing just slightly with her.

She took a minute to figure out the pace and the angle, but then she moved smoothly and easily, the experienced motions of a woman of the night taking over. She moaned softly into his ear - just needy enough to attempt riling him up further. She wanted him to trip over himself to please her, whenever she was willing to make her move.

The sound sent goosebumps rolling along his spine, and he smiled, kissing the side of her neck with a small huff of pleasure. "We could have had so much more fun if you'd just left the poison out of the equation last time," he pointed out.

"Would I have kept your interest? It was nine years ago or more... I'm sure we're both different people now," she replied breathlessly, dragging her teeth across the skin of his throat.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Nor do I know if I would have kept yours... but now ..." He let motion speak for itself, his body moving with hers, the water rippling around them.

She swore into his shoulder, riding him hard, her sightly-drunk brain deciding for her to ignore who she was fucking in favor of thinking of Sebastian instead.

He gripped her hips, helping to lift her as she moved, his fingers digging into her skin. "Fuck, you feel good," he groaned, his cheek resting against her ear, stubble scraping with each movement.

"Good," she breathed raggedly back, eyes shut tight, imagining Sebastian fucking her in his huge bathtub as she continued to move.

He was a man who prided himself on patience and stamina, but she was young, and skilled, and beautiful, and it wasn't long before she was making him forget restraint and focus entirely on her, and the way she felt around him. He let out a soft groan, using his shoulders against the edge of the tub as leverage to move his hips more energetically.

Lorna was well acquainted with the signs of a man about to tumble off the edge, and he was a man in such a position. She nipped the lobe of his ear, tensing around him.

She was an expert in her craft. There wasn't any point in arguing that. He let out a strangled noise of pleasure, gasping, as she brought him over exquisitely, his hand shifting downward to search for her clit in an attempt to do the same for her. She let out a breathy gasp, pretending she'd gone over the edge so that he wouldn't feel the need to extend this just for her sake. He relinquished his hold, settling back into a melted sort of existence as the water settled around them.

She caught her breath and eventually oozed off of him and sat back against the edge of the tub next to him. "Well," she started, chuckling a little as she brushed a hand over her slightly sweaty forehead, "Curiosity satisfied?"

Very," he agreed with a small smile, his head thudding back against the concrete patio. "That was incredible. I can see why you've won over so many marks."

Lorna snorted a little in amusement. "You sound like Vincent," she smirked, stretching her arms over her head with a small groan and a pop in her shoulders. "Maybe even like Moran, on a particularly pleasant day." She grinned, leaning over to brush her lips over the shell of his ear, her hand wrapping around his arm. "Careful you don't follow down that path, hm? Let's keep it semi-professional." She sat back again, relaxing. Telling a mark not to get too interested was something a grifter was unlikely to do when the mark was already onto her - or at least, she'd gathered that non-grifters seemed to think this sometimes. She would take advantage of it - radiate as much confidence as she could, to hide everything else.

He laughed, and inclined his head. "I don't think that will be too difficult. But thank you for your concern." He stood, unabashedly naked, and climbed out of the jacuzzi, heading toward the door. "I'm overheating. I'm going to go rinse off. Stay as long as you like, or you're welcome to join me."

She chuckled, standing out of the water herself, leaning down to snag her bra and underpants. "A quick rinse would be excellent. Shampoo would be even better."

"I believe some can be spared," he said with a grin, watching her as she exited the tub, water streaming down her skin in rivulets. "Come. Let's get clean."

She gingerly picked up her folded clothes (she was a little low on clothes at the moment) and then trotted a little to catch up to him. If she was capable, maybe she could worm into his bed tonight - it would make scanning the place for hiding spots for computer cards easier, hopefully. She smiled as she reached his side. "Let's," she agreed.