I woke up the next morning and found Alex sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee.

"I didn't know you drank coffee," I commented, getting myself a mug of coffee, then setting it down to cool off.

"I need caffeine and there's no soda around," Alex explained.

I leaned lazily against the counter. Alex stood up and placed his empty mug in the sink. I could sense him eyeing me. Then I remembered what he had said last night. I looked over at him, and his gaze immediately broke.

"Any plans for today?" I asked.

"Not really," Alex answered. "We're supposed to be on 'vacation,' so I was thinking that we could just roam around the city."

"That sounds great."

We fell awkwardly silent. I caught Alex's gaze again, but this time, he didn't look away. I felt trapped in his gorgeous, serious, brown eyes.

"Alex…"

"Yeah…" Alex replied as if he were in a trance.

I stepped closer to him. I lifted my face and kissed him. After a couple kisses, Alex spoke.

"Cam, you don't have to-"

"Practice makes perfect." I kissed him. Agreeing, Alex continued kissing me. Our intensity grew with each kiss. After a long while, we finally let go of each other. We went to change and prepare to leave. I put on black capris, a gray tank top, and silver heels. Alex came out of the bathroom in jeans, a red T-shirt, and sneakers. Before we left the suite, Alex pulled me in for another kiss. A sweet, musky aroma filled my senses.

"Alex, are you wearing cologne?" I asked.

"I am."

I smiled. "I like it."

Alex kissed me again, and we made out for I don't know how long before we finally left the suite. Our first stop was a pizza shop where we bough lunch. Alex and I were walking around the town square when we saw two men speeding by on a motorcycle. The cyclists did a one-eighty, coming back toward Alex and me. I made nothing of it until the driver headed straight for us. Then he swerved at the last second. The passenger snatched my purse from my hand. For two seconds, I couldn't do anything, shocked and dumbfounded. Then instinctively, I looked for something to throw. I picked up a handful of rocks. I whipped one at the driver, hitting him the back of the head. Surprised, the driver lost control and crashed the bike into a bench by the side of the street. I jogged to the cyclists and picked up my purse. I dropped the rest of the stones on them and walked away.

"Nice throw," Alex complimented.

"Thanks. So anyway, how are we going to find Scorpia?"

Alex shrugged. "I really don't know. I don't even know where to begin."

"There's a woman by the name of Julia Rothman. She's supposed to be associated with the highest-ranking members of Scorpia, and she lives here in Venice." I paused for a moment. "I have no idea where to how to find her."

"Well, what do you know about her?"

"I have an entire file on her back at the suite. She's really rich and shows it off. She inherited the money from her late husband. She lives in a huge castle-like mansion."

"Well, there's a start. We can look for mansions."

"But where?"

"Huh…good question."

Alex and I spent the rest of the day roaming around Venice and talking about Mrs. Rothman and Scorpia. We finally came back to the suite a little after 8:30 in the evening. I plopped down in the couch and switched on the TV to the local news channel. A young woman with a microphone stood in front of an elaborate mansion. She spoke excitedly in Italian. The news anchor turned slightly, gesturing to the mansion.

"You can understand that?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, I can speak Italian, Spanish, German, Chinese, Japanese, Gaelic, and Russian."

"I can speak French, Spanish, German, and a little Italian."

Then something the news anchor said caught my attention. I sat on the edge of my seat, listening intently, my eyes glued to the television. Once I'd heard enough, I switched off the TV and started for the door.

"Cam, where are you going?" Alex asked.

"I know where to find Rothman's mansion."

"So are you just going to prance on in there and demand to speak to Mrs. Rothman?"

"Good point. We'll sneak in, then."

"How?"

"I'll have to look at the place, so I'll tell you when we get there." I went into the bedroom and into the closet to find a change of clothes. I pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a black long sleeve T-shirt. I stepped back out into the bedroom to find my sneakers. Alex came out of the bathroom in black jeans and a black long sleeve shirt. I found my sneakers and jammed them on. I took Smithers' exploding earrings from the jewelry box and put them in. I took the perfume and cologne bottles from the bathroom. I tucked the perfume bottle into my pocket and tossed the cologne to Alex.

"Let's go."

"Where exactly are we going?" Alex asked.

"The news anchor said that Rothman is celebrating her birthday at her mansion by the river," I said as we left the suite. We took an elevator down the first floor. Then we took a bus to the river and began searching for Rothman's mansion. We came up on a ginormous stone mansion with four tall towers stretching toward the heavens. Decorative lights and ornaments were dangling everywhere. Everyone in the yard was in formal dress. Security guards were on duty everywhere.

"How are we getting in?" Alex asked. "There's so much security. And we definitely didn't dress for the occasion."

I looked around. What could I use for cover? There was a photographer sitting behind a bush, snapping pictures. Ding, ding! Idea! I snuck up behind the man and took out the perfume bottle, turning the nozzle twice. It clicked loudly, and the man turned around. I grabbed the camera and sprayed the knockout chemical into his face. The second he inhaled, he collapsed to the ground. Alex helped me hide the sleeping man under the bush.

"Okay, we're on a photography internship for the local newspaper," I explained. "Come up with some Italian name."

With the camera in my hands, I walked up the guard standing by the main gate and holding a clipboard.

"Hi, I'm Valerie Rivetti," I said in fluent Italian. "I'm doing a photography internship for the local paper."

"I'm Nicolas Gambino," Alex said in the little Italian he knew. "I'm with Valerie."

The guard gruffly muttered his approval and opened the gate to let Alex and me in. As we made our way to the mansion, we passed by groups of people standing outside chatting with champagne glasses in hand. I snapped a few pictures of the mansion and the grounds so it looked like I was really doing what I said I was. Then I entered the mansion with Alex following behind. The stone foyer was lit by a grand, crystal chandelier. There were groups of people roaming around, chatting and laughing (and of course, drinking – champagne, liquor, beer, and/or whatever those crazy, rich people drink). In the living room, Julia Rothman sat on a large, luxurious suede couch. She wore an elegant, black silk dress. Her wavy, dark hair framed her pale but pretty face. Photographers were snapping pictures left and right. I handed the camera to Alex, and he joined the mass of photographers and flashing cameras. Rothman's gaze fell on Alex, and my heart skipped a beat. There was something in her eyes that gave me chills up and down my spine. I made my way over to Alex. Rothman's eyes fell on me, and I froze. She stood up and walked towards me. My heart pounded.

"You don't look familiar," she said raising a carefully plucked and penciled eyebrow. Her Italian carried a slight accent.

"I'm an intern for the local paper," I said in rapid, nervous Italian.

Rothman smiled and held out her hand. I shakily grasped her hand.

"I'm Julia Rothman."

"Valerie Rivetti."

"Why don't you come up to my office? I can give you an exclusive interview."

"That'd be great! Can I bring Nicolas with me?"

"Nicolas?"

I gestured to Alex. "He's my partner."

"That'll be fine."

Alex and I followed Rothman up the winding staircase to her office. To the right of the door were a fireplace and a large couch. By the window was a large oak desk with a large office chair behind it. In front of the desk were two chairs.

"So, what are you two doing here?" Rothman asked in perfect English.

I was taken by surprise. "What?"

Rothman pulled a sleek, silver handgun from a leg holster under the skirt of her elegant black dress. She cocked it and pointed it at my heart. My blood ran cold. Do I tell her the truth? Do I lie? Which option would save my life?