Thanks dear Beta, for your time, keen eye for detail and enthusiasm!

Warnings: the story is getting more dark and dangerous with dubious consent situations.

Chapter 4

He disappeared in the throng of people, a black shape within pastel colours. Her bellini was still cold in her hand and she took another sip, wondering if she just encountered another Greek god, alive and well on earth. Which god loved chaos and wanted to see the world burn? Ares. Only another divine sip of peach and prosecco could drown that shock away underneath the bliss of taste.

Immediately after she took a third sip, she noticed two of Giovanni's henchmen approaching. She ducked towards the ground, pretending to pick up some fallen object from the ground and disappeared within the guests. When she stood straight she noticed them at the bar, staring around to see where she went. One of them looked disturbed, no doubt realising what losing her out of eyesight would mean when reported back to Giovanni.

There was little time, that much was certain. She had not seen Hermes yet, but was certain he would be here among the people. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with him. A strange powerplay, a plea from a god to a mortal and then this explosive attraction between them. What to make of it? But it was certain that her intentions were seen as a threat. But instead of scaring her from her set task, she only felt the importance weighing more heavily upon her. The system needed to be exposed. This world of secrets, of elite powerplay needed to be judged by the people. She believed in their cause. She would only have to get her hands on those documents and then Julian would take things further. She was not the only one. Other sources were active right this moment. She wondered if Hermes was aware of Manning among others.

She slid through the chatter and laughter. She had grasped a delicate flute of champagne along the way, mourning her bellini with each step. And then she saw him. Her target. Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys. But he did not look like a sheikh at all. He looked charming actually, smartly dressed, broad smile, hair cut fresh and neat. If she didn't know any better he could pass for a Sicilian, a rich one.

But she knew better. For years she had tried to get close to him, studying him. And she had succeeded step by step. This fake identity, one of many, was one that she had been building up for years, and it had brought her closer to his circle of powerful friends. Close enough that she could greet him here as a personal friend, instead of as a business relation.

Zana licked her lips in anticipation. She needed his laptop or phone to intercept his TOR communication. And she needed all her charm and cunning to manage it. She took a deep breath and approached him smiling broadly.

"Hassan?" She feigned surprise with a girlish high pitched voice. "Hassan? What are you doing here?"

"Fatima?" He seemed pleasantly surprised at her appearance, his eyes sparkling with mirth. He kissed her brow in a fatherly fashion, which was not besides reality, for her made-up father was a powerful man within the circles he moved in. The illusion was cast with care and was thorough. But Hassan was a naughty man and he loved walking the edge of propriety. She could use that to her advantage. But being in the house of a mafia boss and her former lover might cause problems.

"You look lovely, my dear. How have you been?"

She leaned into him, her hands delicately brushing his chest, her lips next to his ear. "I have missed you, Hassan, where have you been hanging out?"

His pupils dilated at her close proximity, a hungry possessiveness visible for a fleeting moment in his eyes. Then he sighed dramatically. "You know…politics, power. Trying to bring America down." They both laughed out loud. He added in a more conspiratorial low voice in her ear: "Not really up for conversation with such a charming woman as yourself."

She smiled at that. "Indeed, that sounds awfully boring!"

"What brings you to Venice?"

"Still travelling for Sotheby's, my dear. Finding more treasures."

"Ah! The arts are of eternal beauty. As are you, my dear."

A familiar voice next to them said, "A dangerous beauty, Hassan. You be aware. This one is a thief in search of intelligence." Cyllian Atlantaides assessed Hassan's expression. "Ah, you did not know? This one is not who she seems. Her name is Zana. I believe the only part of her identity, the art historian, is true. The rest is an invention to gain access to you."

His demeanour was chatty and amicable. His blond hair seemed somewhat darker, his eyes more hooded. His eyes met hers while his tongue ran away with her secrets and he had the audacity to wink at her.

Hassan's face grew suspicious. He motioned towards the two men that stood behind him and his eyes grew cold and hard. Zana flinched at the sight. The subtle work of years down the drain. She felt frustration and anger growing slowly while she watched the trust disappear from Hassan's eyes. How to get a hold of his communication feed now!

"You don't believe this man, do you Hassan?" She feigned ignorance, but knew it was futile. She did not know the depth of their relationship, but there was no doubt that Cyllian's word held more truth than hers. The word of a man above that of a woman.

Hassan spoke to his two assistants and they moved as one towards her. "Let my men accompany you outside, Miss Zana."

She grimaced. "And let you dump my body alongside the road, violated and murdered? No thank you. Besides, Giovanni won't let you. If somebody takes my life, it will be him. You know, possessive boyfriends."

Cyllian stared at her. In his blue eyes there seemed to stir something. If she didn't know any better, she would have interpreted it as a pang of jealousy.

And as if her words conjured him up, two of Giovanni's henchmen appeared, one of them taking her elbow. "Giovanni has requested your presence upstairs, lady Zana."

She let them take her, somewhat relieved. When she walked the ancient wooden staircase towards the first floor, she could not help but glance down to Hermes. He stood there staring at her, his blue eyes glowing. But the emotion in his eyes was gone. Only hard metal remained.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The ancient house moaned underneath her feet. She was led into a beautiful room with an ensuite bedroom housing a giant four poster bed complete with heavy drapes in a dusty green.

Giovanni stood back towards the door staring through an open set of doors that led to a balcony. The myriad of lights reflecting in the waters surrounding them gave him a festive silhouette. The guards let her slip into the room and close the door behind her. She stalked towards the table where an expensive bottle of red wine stood and poured herself a glass.

Removing her heels, she walked towards him. When standing next to him, she leaned on the balcony. "It is beautiful here."

He sighed. "I missed your voice."

He turned his head to watch her and she couldn't help but drown in his dark eyes and a small part of her had to admit that she had missed him too. But now was not the time for nostalgia. She needed a bit of drama. Her lip trembled and her eyes watered. "I am sorry… Giovanni… I was scared."

He sighed at her confession, tucking one of her locks of hair behind her ear. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Her mind worked in overdrive. The truth or something close to it worked best in all cases, but especially with this man. He had always read her easiest. He was dangerous for her.

"Because I was on a mission to spy on you. You are a dangerous man, Giovanni."

His hands grasped her arms with more force than necessary. It was the only sign of his surprised anger. Then he sighed defeated. "I suspected, but wasn't sure. Who did you work for?" His eyes glinted in the darkness.

"A private enterprise. They seek secret information to expose networks that go all the way to the highest regions of diplomacy."

She saw the anger rise in him. Good. She had to let him boil a bit more to be able to strike his heart.

He was shaking her now, his fingers pressing in her flesh painfully. "You betrayed my trust. I should have listened to Marco. He told me that there were odd blanks in your background."

She smiled wistfully. "Marco was hard to fool, I grew fond of him. Where is he nowadays?"

"He died. He betrayed me."

She grew cold. It was so easy to forget who was standing in front of her. She swallowed.

"Why did you leave? Did you have all the information you needed? Did you expose my enterprise already?"

She gasped, letting fear show in her eyes. "No! I left before I could finish!"

"What does that mean?"

She let tears fall over her cheeks. "Because I fell in love with you. And you are a dangerous man to love."

She cried in earnest now, sagging in his hold and she saw his eyes soften. She continued her strategy. "I fell in love with you! Every day betraying you was agony! I couldn't do it! I had to leave you to keep you safe. I did not have the heart to tell you. I feared that you had no love for me… that I was just one of your flings to be discarded if you grew bored…" she hiccuped through her tears.

He whispered in her ear at that, his hot breath caressing her skin. "Zana… Zana… Could you not see?" He cursed under his breath for a moment staring at the stars outside as if to collect his thoughts. Then he said, voice low and fast. "Listen. I am not like other men in this line of work. I like it when a woman is independent, intelligent, and daring. I like to be defied, to have an equal. You were it for me." He gasped at his own confession, as if it had been bottled up for years. He rested his forehead against hers and she noticed the reflection of light on moisture near his eye. "You are it. Still. After all this time."

She felt momentarily sick, the feeling inside of her reaching out to his honest confessions. But she could not. She had to lie to him. Betray him again. And she was certain that this Godfather would rain down hell upon her after a second betrayal. Especially after this confession. But she played her cards one by one with care. Until all were down on the table.

Tears flowed freely over her face and within the frenzy of broken confessions she felt him lick them away, his hands moving down, caressing her curves with a tenderness she had forgotten he could muster.

All happened quickly after that, his hands slid underneath her dress and before she knew it, he had hoisted her up and moved towards the large four poster bed. It was a flurry of hot breaths, sweet kisses and passionate sighs and moans. He looked undone, his lips glistening from her wetness, his shirt open, showing the paleness of his skin underneath, his dark eyes filled with want. She lay backwards in bliss, her mission forgotten for a moment.

Then a blindingly sharp sound. It took them a few moments to pinpoint its origin but then his body heat parted from her and she heard him shout orders to his henchmen, just outside the door. It was an alarm of sorts and before she came to her senses he caressed her cheek, kissed her and mumbled that he would be back within a few minutes.

The door closed and the alarm was silenced abruptly, but she could hear panicked voices and running in the hallway. She should use this moment to her advantage, but she felt regret at the betrayal that was unavoidable.

She sighed one last time, looking up at the ceiling where within a sky blue surrounding little putti were fooling around with bows and arrows. A familiar voice ripped her attention back towards the ensuite doors.

"What do you think you are doing, Zana?" Cyllian, no Hermes strode in. The god's face was contorted in a menacing frown, lips pressed together. His eyes were turned to a dark blue and his hair was almost white. The power around him seemed to press her further down onto the mattress. She did not even have time to feel awkward at her state of undress, the fact that he could see right in between her thighs. See the wetness that Giovanni coaxed from her.

He approached with a speed that was inhuman until he was looming over her, eyes glinting.

"I am working. Now if you will let me dress."

He pushed her backwards when she tried to raise up. "No."

"Cyllian, Hermes.. Whatever your name is. I need to play this part or he will have me buried alive in some ditch somewhere in the countryside."

His voice took on a strange intenseness, but the word was the same. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"It means he will not touch you again."

She stared at him incredulously. "By what right, do you think…"

The god stared down at her. He did not hide his rage this time. "You are mine, Zana. He should not have touched you and I will make him pay."

She spit in his face, her rage flaming up, matching his. "You fucking asshole! How dare you lay a claim on me! You have been nothing but a hindrance! And now you see me as your possession?! This is not ancient Greece! This is the 21st century!"

His nostrils flared at her tirade while he wiped at her spit on his cheek. Then with inhuman speed his lips were on hers. With a moan she could do nothing but let herself drown in his kiss and all her anger seemed to be extracted from her. When he left her panting on the mattress, his hands caressed her body further, ghosting over her exposed folds. He whispered in her ear: "What do you prefer, my beautiful thief? That he walks in on us? Or that I force him to watch?" His fingers softly caressed her clit.

Zana felt overwhelmed. Her body reacted on autopilot and her brain seemed filled with fog and want. What was he saying? She tried to regroup her thoughts. But there were no thoughts, only the feeling of guilt. She was betraying a man that she had loved once. She had done it without remorse and would even have killed him, if it meant reaching her goal. But seeing her like this with Hermes was too intimate… it would be worse than betrayal. And she found she could not do it. She moaned. "No, don't hurt him. Kill him, but don't let him see this."

"My, my… what mercy for a monster. You know what he is?"

"Yes. Let this be his only mercy. Not knowing."

"Very well."

It was an overwhelming blur of sensations. His hot breath and strong hands. The way he sank deep within her without warning, stealing her breath. Fingers sinking in flesh, tracing muscle, seeking moisture. He seemed without end, relentlessly pulling the spring inside of her taut. His pupils were blown to black when he finally came undone. And he took her ruthlessly with him.

She lay back boneless on the bed, crushed by the weight of a god. She sank her fingers in the whiteness of his curls tentatively, wondering if he would disappear like a cloud of smoke. But he was solid and real and his hair felt like warm silk.

Her touch made him stir and he pushed himself up on his elbows, hovering above her. His eyes were less black now, his energy slowly coming down from the high. He stared into her eyes and then kissed her solemnly. "Divine…" he whispered. Then he stood. His clothes turned crisp and clean, no wrinkle in sight. He stared at her with an indecipherable look, then he reached out to take her hand and pulled her up to standing.

"He is on his way. I will bring you to another room."

She nodded and let him lead her towards the other side of the room. She frowned, there was no door there. But his fingers reached and a door appeared in such a subtle way, that she thought that she had merely looked over it.

Stepping through he let go of her hand and she found herself facing an old attic, dust in thick layers on the floor. His voice lingered on her skin: "Go home, Zana. Let go of your plans. It is futile. You do not have a chance now that Hassan knows who you are. Go home…"

Turning in irritation, she found that he was gone. As was her underwear.