Thank you, lovely beta ;)

Chapter 2.

The rain was crashing against the windows of her small Venetian apartment. She loved Venice in winter and it was one of her favourite apartments that she owned. But now it was summer and the endless train of suitcase wheels had been irritating her ears to no end, the heat was overwhelming and the city suffocating at times, despite the sea being all around. She welcomed the rain, for it cancelled out all remnants of tourist presence in her beloved city. Still the water could not wash away the growing irritation that she felt.

Frustrated, she poured herself another coffee while typing on her laptop with increasing force. He seemed like a ghost. Cyllian Atlantiades. Well, not entirely, for he seemed everywhere within the international world of diplomats and politics, he seemed connected to the UN, Brussels, several embassies, royal houses, Iran, the Kremlin. Even North Korea welcomed him. He seemed to move in and out of all circles, untouchable, like a neutral force. But he never left an impact, it seemed. And there was nothing about his personal life. If she didn't know any better, he seemed to have appeared some ten years ago. He was just there all of a sudden. No history, no growing up, no parents, just a sudden appearance.

She sipped her coffee, staring at the rain. That would mean only one thing. He was definitely not Cyllian Atlantiades. Strange choice in names anyway. She kept on hitting websites on the ancient Greek God Hermes. Being the son of Maia, son of Atlas, he was often named Atlantiades. If he had a fake identity, why would he choose such a name? Her thoughts went to their conversation next to the Hermes statue and his strange reaction to her thoughts on Zeus.

Her phone vibrating softly next to her stopped her train of thought. She ran the encrypted code through her computer deciphering the message. The message was short and to the point: how is progress on targets/need docs asap.

She sighed. She needed more intel on Bernardo, he was the key to everything. Next to her an invitation for another party at Villa Taverna stared at her with silvery lettering. She needed to get to him there. She took another sip of the now cold coffee. She was sincerely hoping that Cyllian would not be there this time. She needed to be prepared for that.

Taking her cup towards the kitchen she emptied it then walked barefooted towards her small wardrobe. Another minimal dress, as lightweight as possible. Her eyes flitted over a black jumpsuit next to it. Yes.. she needed that one for stealth. For she had another project at that mansion. A rather personal one. Grinning, she started packing her bag and arranging a train ticket to Rome for the next day.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Her research of the buildings around Villa Taverna had proved useful. She had successfully infiltrated the Villa from the roofs, silently climbing down on the balcony of the ambassador's wife. With a small tool she had easily picked the lock and slid inside the warm dark room. She searched all obvious places until she realised the hiding place was even more obvious than she could have dreamed: the collier lay plainly visible in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

Silent as a cat she pocketed it in her bodice, slipped outside, climbed on the roof unseen and lowered herself through the servants balcony into the building once more, changing in the bathroom. She managed to stuff her black jumpsuit in her small handbag, and slipped into a delicate black dress, with matching high heels. One look at the mirror image confirmed that her make-up was still impeccable and no sweat marred her brow. She took a deep breath and plunged into the party downstairs.

With a glass of champagne in her hand she slipped outside on the porch to catch her breath and cool off. She needed some more time here: to avoid suspicion, she was preparing herself for some networking and small talk.

Her eyes glanced over the Hermes statue in the shadows of the garden and a familiar voice sounded in her ears, like an auditory déjà-vu.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the charming cultural attaché."

She sighed in irritation. "I told you to do better next time."

He grinned over the rim of his glass, his eyes bluer than she remembered. "And I promised to do just that. So I call you a thief and compliment you for it."

A deep silence fell. She stared at him with gritted teeth. How. Did. He. Know.

"That is quite an accusation and also… a strange compliment."

He stared back, then approached. His hand grasped her hip, sliding up to her side, the silky fabric following in its wake, almost baring her underwear, until it fell back with a swish. He had strong lean hands, and his fingers slid underneath her breast until they travelled with a deliberate move, upwards to where the collier was hidden.

"I know a thief when I see one. And you, my dear, … are….it."

She stared up at him, noticing how tall he was. His blond hair blocked the sunlight behind him. His fingers were still resting on the collier hidden between her breasts.

She did not speak, only stared at him speechless. He grinned at her then, baring straight perfect teeth. "Lost your tongue? And here I thought you were only after those files."

"I still am."

His expression darkened. "You should let that rest. No good will come from it."

She frowned. "What is it to you? What do you care for secrets and diplomacy?" A silly question, knowing how he moved in the world. But he seemed to search for an answer nonetheless, even though he did not owe her one.

"There is a certain beauty to diplomacy, there are rules of engagement, some things are not done, some things are. There are secrets being shared and guarded, messages transferred. If you expose this system, you will change the rules."

She laughed at him. "Is that so bad? Are you so scared to lose your precious world? I know in what circles you move. You have blood on your hands as well. You are part of the system. I don't know who you work for, but consider for a moment being free of all that."

He stilled, his hand fell back to his side, something hard and unwavering set in his face. "You don't understand. I AM this system."

Taken aback she shook her head for a moment thinking. What an odd thing to say of him.

She softened her voice. "Remember the story of Hermes and his father? He did his bidding, so much so, that being the messenger of the gods became part of his identity as a god. But he could have said no to Zeus. And so can you. You can choose your own path and bypass the system."

She watched his face becoming ashen grey suddenly. Something flitted over his features that she could not decipher, but it was clear that she struck a nerve. A big one.

"Why did you name yourself after Hermes anyway?"

He stared at her for a long time. His blue eyes were undecipherable. Then a small smile creeped up on him and before she knew it, he bent down and kissed her. His lips were warm and soft and the kiss tender. But when his tongue slipped between her lips the kiss grew more urgent, tightening things low in her body until she moaned in his mouth.

When they caught their breath, she watched his eyes, the dilated pupils and breathed.

"Well?"

He focussed on her, eyes earnest, and then he said: "Because I am Hermes."

A chill crept up her spine and she felt a tinge of fear. His words sounded so matter-of-fact, but the truth in them felt inevitable. His outrageous statement penetrated her like a knife, hitting home into her very brain. And she accepted his message without a shred of doubt.

She stared at his face and he was subtly changed, his eyes glowed, his hair seemed to have been kissed by the sun even more. His features became even more handsome and less human somehow. He seemed to gleam while there was no direct light cast upon him. His teeth shone newly white in his mouth.

She took a step back.

"Why are you telling me?"

His eyes held intent, his mouth pulled into a straight hard line. "To warn you, mortal. Do not pursue your goal. I forbid it."

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Waking up on the side of the road in her car, she had no recollection of leaving the party and of driving her car. She remembered Cyllian's words, his claimed identity and suddenly real fear gripped her heart. Was it true? Had she been in the presence of an ancient Greek god? Sitting here in her car, the cool breeze from the nightfall in her face, it seemed far-fetched and unreal. He had played her well. She must have been drugged by him.

Her hand slipped towards the collier in between her breasts. She sighed. Still there. So why did he take the effort to warn her, to expose her, when all he was concerned about was her assignment? She remembered his words: So I call you a thief, and I compliment you for it.

Frowning, she turned on the engine of her car and turned the vehicle back onto the road, following the stars for direction. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, but so much more. He was the patron of thieves and the patron of trade and diplomacy. He seemed not to be concerned about her thievery. He was concerned she would change the world of diplomacy. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, pressing her lips to each other.

Well. He was right. Julian Assange would expose them all, with her help. And the world would change forever.