Thank you lovely beta. Your comments were insightful once again.

Warning: the OC is getting stuck in a Mary Sue kind of situation: surrounded by only handsome men. Let's not feel guilty but enjoy this ride, shall we?

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Chapter 3.

Venice in winter was just amazing. No tourists, only locals. It made her feel as if the city was hers alone. After a morning of work, she wandered at leisure through the small streets, relishing the smell of the sea, left by the acqua alta that had just passed through the city for some time. It was good to be out in the fresh air on this chilly December afternoon. Her feet found the marketplace unhurried.

The cold brought out the smells of the produce on offer and she enjoyed herself immensely, following her nose. In the end, she settled for walnuts, cavolo nero, freshly made pasta, pecorino cheese and some blood oranges. The wind had been picking up since the morning and the chill penetrated her slim coat. She fled for the wind, escaping inside a small café, and ordered an espresso while standing at the bar. Taking her first sip, a familiar voice and a hand on the small of her back made her shiver even more.

"Fancy seeing you here… What's for dinner?"

She gritted her teeth at the intrusion of her privacy. Venice was hers in wintertime. Not his. "Pasta." She spat the word.

"How unimaginative it is in Venice, to eat pasta."

She could not help but smile at his quip. And her irritation fled. She emptied her cup, left money on the counter and they both stepped outside into the now blazing sun. But the light held no warmth.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to invite me for dinner?"

She watched him. He returned her gaze unwavering, the blue of his eyes echoing the sky above him. Her mind worked hard. He was here on business no doubt. It was no coincidence he would meet her here like this; her target must be in Venice at this very moment. His scheme to seek her out to keep her in check had backfired already without him knowing it. The only thing he accomplished was showing her that her goal was within reach. She only had to follow him. Rather transparent for a so-called god of diplomacy. For now she would participate in his intricately woven gameplay.

Licking her lips, while smiling slowly, she assessed him head to toe. He was handsome, blond with blue eyes, slightly tanned and dressed impeccably in what looked like a custom made suit of a deep blue wool that made his eyes stand out. While her eyes travelled to his hands, she knew for a fact that she would very much like to play this game with him.

"Well. Are you?"

For a moment he seemed to misunderstand; "Am I what?"

"Coming to dinner?" She smiled at him. It was her professional smile. The one that melted hearts and opened doors.

His grin turned blindingly white, just as professional. His arm looped into hers, while he softly led her in the right direction. She refused to dwell upon the fact that he knew the location of her house.

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Facing him in her warm apartment above a steaming plate of pasta she pointed at him with her fork: "So tell me, why do you fraternise with terrorists?"

His smile grew sly. "He is not a terrorist. He just has non-western rules and values."

"Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys is a terrorist and a known member of Al-Qaeda!"

He pointed his fork back at her in a mocking gesture. "Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys has been decorated for bravery in the Ogaden War against Ethiopia!"

She chewed on her pasta thoughtfully, mumbling: "He needs to be put to justice. The world has to see him for what he truly is."

He stared at her, eyes narrowed. "But not like that. We can come to an agreement, work something out."

"Why are you so upset about this?"

He frowned at her belittling his concerns, as if they were human emotions. "Your methods are a one-way direction, Zana. There is no art in it, no skill. It is unimaginative." His passionate monologue seemed to enhance his feature's somehow, she stared at him mesmerised, noticing gold specks in the blue of irises. Was this what a god looked like?

Without realising she had been leaning closer, her hair threatening to dangle into her pasta. He noticed that her attention had dropped and cocked his head to the side questionably. The shift in attention shook her out of her daydreaming.

"Are you really a god?" A silence fell, the words seemed loud in her small kitchen.

His eyes seemed to gain light for a moment, as if the sun enhanced them. His hair gleamed.

"Yes."

"Why did you tell me? Isn't that supposed to be a secret?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You are hard to persuade. I needed a stronger means of pressure."

She smiled sweetly at that. "You think that worked?"

He stared at her thoughtfully. "I am unsure of the results at the moment."

"That must be refreshing!" Her laugh pearled over the table towards him.

With a quick movement he dived towards her, to capture her lips, surprising her. Her laugh changed into a small moan and she felt his lips curve into a smile against hers. Her thoughts did not succumb to the sensation of his lips and her thoughts were erratic. Was he trying to distract her by seducing her? Was this kiss as artificial as his smile? But it seemed too transparent and too simple for a Greek God to distract a girl with a kiss.

At least her own moan was no act, he was delicious. Her reaction made him deepen the kiss, but she sighed and pushed him back into his seat. "I think you have a party to attend, don't you think?"

He sighed. "I might."

"He will be there."

"He might."

"You are very transparent."

"I wasn't being secretive. I just wanted to know your intentions."

"And?"

"And I know now that you are stubborn." He looked up at her, his eyes soft. "You are wrong, Zana. This is wrong. You have to stop pursuing this."

She swirled the wine in her glass, "Or else?"

All jest fled from his face at that, his eyes changing until they appeared metal made. He rose, his presence gaining something more than human. His blond hair seemed to whiten and his features were suddenly more finely chiselled, angular, sharp and clean. Energy seemed to fill her small kitchen, until her skin crawled with it. She stood as well, feeling fear stirring at his display of power.

But courage made her tongue run away with her thoughts. "Well?"

"Or else, you will feel the wrath of a god, Zana. And your life will be forfeit." And with that he left, slamming the door behind him. The energy left her house and a deep sigh of relief left her. What on earth?

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Her contact arrived fifteen minutes after Cyllian left. She refused to call him by his true name. Whenever he was near, his divinity seemed realistic, a physical presence that was inescapable. But now, when he was gone, she began once again doubting his story. He could not be a god. Gods did not exist. Not really. Especially not ancient Greek ones.

Or was this the way that they walked unnoticed in between people? Maybe everybody forgot as soon as they were out of eyesight?

Her contact was discreet. A dark shadow waiting by the entrance at the waterside, as always. When she walked down the ancient stone steps towards the ground floor, she felt a strong connection with the original owners of the villa who must have used this water entrance daily. In the old days all movement was by water. The waterways were quicker and more direct than the myriad of small stone cobbled alleys, interrupted by sparse squares and too many steep bridges and small ferries.

Water was the means towards the latest news, fresh supplies, and gossip. Power and intelligence as well as wealth came by water. Intelligence was a luxury for the elite in control of the city, the old merchants that brought Venice its illustrious riches and turned it into the central and most important hub of trade and intelligence in the western world. It wasn't meant to last of course, and after a long period of flourish, Venice fell to ruin.

Zana liked living in this shell of former glory. The reminders of the pinnacle of knowledge, power and trade, present all around her, in the smallest details, the mighty lion of St. Marc gazing at her at every street corner.

Her contact affirmed that her target was in the city; the meeting that Cyllian attended took place in an old mansion in the middle of the city, a private party. The name written on a small piece of paper in crude pencil letters was familiar. She knew him intimately, Giovanni Lucca. He was rich, handsome, and pulled strings all through Europe. Strings connected to the Italian 'Ndrangheta mafia, several banks, companies, and governments. She remembered his hands on her sweaty skin, his passionate kisses. She had approached him for a job, slept with him for some months to gather some intel on him. Then disappeared out of his life like smoke.

She knew he felt more for her than he had wanted her to know. How would he react to her presence now? Would he let her enter without an invitation? And what would be her excuse?

Only the finest dress would do, and preferably one that was familiar to him, one that held meaning. She skipped through her wardrobe searching for the willow green dress that he had adored so much. The bright red and gold sash finished the look and when she was done, the result was stunning. She loved the look. A set of cognac coloured clog heels finished the look perfectly, giving the willow green a subtle contrast. Her red beaded purse, slipped around her wrist, contained her phone and enough room for the information that she hoped to obtain.

When done, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked stunning. Satisfied, she left the house silently, sitting in the boat while her contact made way towards her destination with ease over the currents. Fog had slipped over the water, casting white blanket over its darkness.

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One glance at the entrance of the mansion assured her. Giovanni himself, all charm and handsomeness, stood within the safety of the enforced glass door frame himself, playing host to all his guests. His white teeth were constantly visible, in one long smile, shaking hands, grasping elbows, kissing an occasional cheek. She stood in line patiently, the sea breeze picking up suddenly playing with strands of her hair. She studied his face, the strong jaw, straight nose, dark eyes. His hair was straight and black, his eyebrows elegant curves above his eyes, giving him a mischievous look. Maybe she had liked him more than she should, she wondered quietly, but she shook the thought out of her head quickly. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on him; she had a mission after all.

He noticed her but did not react to her presence in any way. Finally she was but one step away from standing in front of him and she watched him talking animatedly with an elderly lady, covered in gold and diamonds. When he turned towards her he drank her in like a starving man. And she couldn't help but catch her breath.

They stared at each other while a myriad of memories passed their minds' eye. Then he took her hand reverently, bowing down to place a kiss on top of it. When he stood, he bent towards her ear, whispering in her ear: "I have missed you."

She leaned into him despite herself, his smell enveloping her, drowning her in memories. "And I you."

He stared at her then, eyes suspicious: "You dare to return after betraying me? You know there will be consequences?"

"You are one to talk! How dare you!"

"You know who I am, Zana. Better than anyone." He suddenly pulled her to the side, his security guards taking over. His hand pressed into her arm painfully. He pulled her into a small niche, hissing at her. "You left without a word!"

She stared in his angered face. "I am … sorry. I just needed space."

"Space?"

She bit her lip on purpose as if contemplating her answer, making herself small and vulnerable. "I fell too deep for you."

The look of surprise, eagerness mixed with some emotion she could not decipher, slipped over his features in quick succession. He hesitated for a moment, then he said gruffly, "Order a drink. I will find you when I have finished the reception here. Don't try to escape. I have too many eyes around for you to pull any tricks."

She nodded at him, trying to fill her eyes with mock emotion. Or maybe a part of it was real. She noticed the effect on him and he drank her in for a moment. Then bent down to caress her lips with his own, his breath hot on her skin.

At the bar she ordered a bellini cocktail, knowing that she would get a good one here. With fresh chilled white peach puree and quality prosecco. The first sip made her moan in bliss. But the dark chuckle next to her crushed her small moment of peace.

A tall man stood beside her. Handsome features, dark eyes and short red hair. Everything about him stood on edge, his gaze intelligent and alert. Dressed in black he could easily be mistaken for one of Giovanni's muscle men. But the style of his dark clothes was off, his movements not hindered by weightlifting bulk, but graceful and lean. Despite his striking appearance, he radiated something that made her hesitate. A restless energy, chaotic, unpredictable. She took a step back.

Her involuntary retreat made his nostrils flare and his interest pique and she felt the full weight of his focus. She could feel it, a heaviness that pressed into her and she was reminded of Hermes in her kitchen, mere hours before. She assessed him with suspicion and he grinned, baring his white teeth until the canines peaked out, giving him a wolfish look. He took a step towards her until she had to bend her neck to stare at him.

"Who are you?" She could not help the suspicion in her voice.

His grin widened. "Did my brother not warn you about me?"

"Brother?"

"Well. Half-brother technically.'

"I don't know who you are talking about. And what do you want from me?"

He leaned in closer towards her, lowering his gaze, his eyes glowing. "I can see what it is you want, little thief. I offer my aid."

"And what is it that I want?"

He leaned into her, his breath ghosting her neck. "You want to expose the dark and dirty, expose it to the light and see it burn. You want chaos. And that is what has called me here."

She shivered at the truth of his words, pushing him away from her. "You talk in riddles. I am a guest of Giovanni. And I can have you removed if you take more liberties."

His eyes glinted and he pressed on. "Guest? You do not fool me, little thief. You need aid if you wish to go against my brother."

She frowned. Small puzzle pieces coming together. "I don't need your aid."

He laughed out loud at that. A short bark, his teeth flashing white. "Remember this moment, little thief. And remember my offer. It will stand, despite your ignorance of its use now."

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If you find this god of war intriguing, check out my story "Fight for war".