The Glass Flat Safehouse - Munich, Germany - November 1998
Raymond woke to sleet pelting the windows of the dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn, but he could tell by the gaps in their folds that it was already dark outside.
It took a great deal of trust to sleep alongside someone, to allow them into one's sphere when it was so completely unguarded. It was the kind of vulnerability Raymond tried to avoid as a general principle. And yet, here he was, having slept for hours ensconced in the arms of his business partner.
Glancing surreptitiously down at his chest, Red found the woman still fast asleep. He had turned at some point, one arm wrapping around the small of her back, the other cradling her head to his chest.
Rosalie didn't seem to mind the proximity. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Red's torso, her small hands pressed into his back, keeping him close. A slender leg had draped over his, wedging his muscular thigh between hers. The woman's breath fell softly against his neck, the gentle sound nearly lulling him back under.
Truthfully, Raymond rather enjoyed how tightly she was wrapped around him. It had been too long since the man had a woman in his bed for anything beyond the occasional dalliance. Far too long. He had forgotten how it could feel, being held and caressed by gentle hands. It touched a raw corner of his soul, awakening something vital, something he'd been missing.
Suddenly, holding the woman in such a way felt terribly intimate.
What had come over him? Why was he cuddling her so close?
More importantly, why did she stay? Why was she clutching him just as tightly?
Red's mind trekked back several hours to when Rosalie had given him her client list. Her eyes had been so soft, so trusting as she held out the little black book.
Reddington hadn't wanted her token of good faith to change anything, yet it had. The gesture had told Raymond everything, had laid Rosalie's character bare before him. With one fell swoop, she had garnered his hard-won trust and unyielding loyalty. After the unmitigated mess with Patrick's death and their ensuing argument, all Red had wanted to do in that moment was take her in his arms.
A rush of nerves made him tighten his hold on the little waist without warning, accidentally waking the woman.
Rosalie sighed and stretched languidly in his embrace. Her small hands moving slowly up and down the expanse of Red's back, drawing gentle circles that made the man hum. He relaxed into the soothing touch, knowing she couldn't feel the burn scars beneath his layers of clothing.
Rosalie's lips twitched as her eyes flickered open, taking in her surroundings. "What time is it?"
Reddington lifted his arm, squinting at his watch in the low light. "6:30" he rumbled, his hand dropping to run featherlight along the woman's torso. He watched avidly as his fingertips traced the curves of her waist and hips, eliciting a soft mew from his counterpart. Her hands hadn't stopped stroking his back. Emboldened by his touch, they moved to roam his shoulders as well.
Raymond found himself enjoying the innocent petting session immensely. Thiswas what he had been missing.
Rosalie seemed to be of the same mind, her body erupting in goosebumps as Raymond's fingertips skimmed a teasing trail along her ribcage. She hadn't realized how much she had missed the comfort of a man until he had drawn her into his embrace. Now, in the dark, the man's scent and gentle caress combined to envelope her in an overwhelming feeling of contentment.
All too soon, a quiet knock interrupted the sanctity of their comfortable cocoon.
"Maybe if we don't answer, he'll go away." Red's sleep-addled drawl ghosted across Rosalie's neck, coaxing a muffled giggle from the warm bundle in his arms. His hand continued stroking her torso as the knock sounded again.
"This is Dembe we're talking about," Rosalie whispered, "He sees right through our ploys."
"We could play dead?" Raymond suggested, looking for any excuse to prolong the moment when they would have to return to reality.
"What terrible suggestions, Raymond. Are you sure you run a criminal empire?" She chided, garnering a deep chuckle from him.
The knock sounded again, more insistently. The pair's eyes met with a kind of anxious disappointment.
"...We could hide in the secret compartment in the closet?" Rosalie offered quietly, a last ditch effort to postpone the inevitable.
However, seconds later, the bedroom door opened, casting a yellow ray of light onto the bed. A smooth voice issued from the gap in the door.
"Raymond, it's Brimley."
A sigh escaped Red's mouth as he released his hold on the woman. Leaving the comfort of the bed, he strode over to Dembe and took the burner phone.
" , I take it our friend is ready?"
Ted's foghorn voice caused Raymond to hold the phone at arms length as he responded. "The blowtorch ran out of gas, but not before he broke! I know where his grandmother hides her money, Boss, but he's got no idea who hired him. Completely anonymous transaction!"
A growl issued from Raymond's chest as he ran a hand over his face. His fears were all but confirmed. Such an anonymous transaction was an indicator of a much larger attack on his operation. He would have to squeeze all available information from Altan and attempt to get one step ahead of his attacker.
Red looked at the young woman occupying his bed. She rested on her elbows, listening intently to Brimley's booming voice as it echoed into the room. A frown marred her features as her mind worked through the new intel.
"Thank you Mr. Brimley, we will be there shortly."
Reddington closed the phone, handing it back to Dembe and instructing him to have the car brought around.
The young man nodded, leaving the pair in the quiet room. Their quiet sanctum was broken, however. The man and woman looked ruefully at each other, an unspoken agreement forming between them.
They wouldn't discuss what had happened in Raymond's bed.
Both had needed comfort and sought it in each other. That was all. Discussing the matter would only lead to the question of what was brewing between them. Because they both knew there was something there now, something that hadn't existed hours earlier. Or at least, they hadn't believed it existed.
Red broke the silence, steering the conversation toward safe waters. "I want you carrying a weapon from now on." He stated, holding out a hand. Rosalie took it and slid gracefully from the bed, "You should have been carrying one from the beginning. Not just those little blades." A half-smile flitted across his features. He was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood.
Rosalie laughed softly, "Those were quite effective if I recall."
"Yes," Raymond admitted, "Only in close range, though. I'd prefer you be able to protect yourself from a safe distance." His thumb traced the back of her hand gently as he spoke, "I can provide you with a gun and ammo if you don't have one."
Rosalie smirked and headed for the master closet. Pulling a hidden key from the door frame, she proceeded to open the back wall. A hidden space similar to the one in New York opened to her, and she hopped to perch herself on the compartment's edge.
An identical smirk graced Red's face as he followed her into the room. He stood eye level with her as she shifted through the hidden trove of paraphernalia.
Finally, she located a large black tactical box, which she tugged to the opening's edge. Flipping the catch, Rosalie swung the lid open to reveal an assortment of firearms and ammo.
Red chuckled, "You've had these all this time and haven't been carrying? What happened to the one in São Paulo?"
She shrugged, "I was on the run. Once I wasn't running from this Concierge of Crime fellow, I didn't feel it was necessary to have it on me."
"You are a criminal; you are alwayson the run. It is always necessary. I don't want you leaving the house without one from now on. Understood?" Raymond's tone brooked no argument.
The young woman nodded, a small smile twitching at her lips for his concern.
Red pulled a Browning Hi-Power from the bunch, recognizing his preferred weapon of choice. He quirked an eyebrow at Rosalie who grinned impishly. "Always be prepared for a client's needs." she reasoned.
"Isn't that the Boy Scout motto?" He joked, earning a giggle from his counterpart. Red also pulled a Colt .45 1911 from the group, some spare clips for each gun, and a couple boxes of ammo. He closed the case with a snap, allowing Rosalie to tuck it back in its hiding spot.
As she turned to climb out of the space, Raymond wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her bodily from the compartment. A stifled squeak of surprise issued from the little woman as he settled her on her feet. She blushed slightly at the renewed proximity before Red's hand met the small of her back, gently shooing her out of the closet.
Divesting the guns, ammo, and clips onto the bed, he organized them by firearm.
"Browning, Hi-Power, 9mm single action. Powerful, reliable, and accurate. 9mm is one of the most common ammos available, making it easy to keep loaded on the go. This is going to be your day-to-day weapon." He explained, loading the clip and handing the firearm to her so she could feel its weight. He filled two more clips for the Browning before picking up the Colt. "Colt .45 1911, single action, has a bit more kick to it. Keep this as a mean back-up. I've loaded copper hollow points for this, they're meant for heavy damage." He loaded the second gun and handed it to the woman, allowing her to get more acquainted with both.
"How comfortable are you firing?" He asked, watching her examine the firearms.
Rosalie tilted her head back and forth, "Reasonably comfortable, but there's always room for improvement." She held the Browning up, feeling the weight in the shooting position.
Red smiled softly, "I'll take you out in the next day or two and we'll work on your technique."
Rosalie beamed appreciatively, "I'll need to get a couple holsters for these."
A thought came to Raymond and he turned to grab one of his bags.
The suitcase was an old-fashioned globe-trotter, its leather showing the wear and tear of age and use. The brass finishes still shone brightly against the black leather as Red spun the combination locks until the clasps sprung open with a snap. The interior was a soft cream color with dark black straps.
Old and new photos were tucked carefully in the lid. A photo of a slightly younger Dembe in a graduation cap beamed up at her. It was tucked alongside a picture of Red and Kate on a sun-drenched balcony, as well as another with Dembe in a bakery, a sweet looking old lady in an apron between him and Raymond. Older photos contained a young woman with red hair, and a separate photo of the same woman, then blonde, in a swing with a little girl.
Rosalie wondered who they were. Did Red once have a child, a wife? The woman's insides squirmed at the thought. She couldn't really reconcile the Concierge of Crime with the very domestic life she imagined involving the woman and the little girl. Realizing she was staring, Rosalie turned her head before she could be caught.
From the confines of the suitcase, Red pulled out a series of dark leather straps. Closing the luggage and setting it aside, he held up the chestnut colored straps for her to examine.
"These holsters," he commented, "are easy to hide on a woman." He shifted the straps so Rosalie could see it was meant to criss-cross over her shoulders. The holster was Raymond's, but he had long since developed a preference for the one he kept at the small of his back. The shoulder harness was perfect for Rosalie, who often wore skirts and dresses as well as slacks. It would give her the ability to carry no matter what she wore.
Raymond wrapped his arms around her, guiding each hand through the straps as he continued explaining. "Your waist dips in from your bust while your hips curve outward, creating a natural hollow. That hollow is ideal for hiding guns and ammo."
Rosalie shrugged the item on, listening intently. Red stopped, eyeing the fit critically, smirking because he hadn't realized how much broader he was than her. The holsters which were supposed to be up by her waist were dangling near the woman's pelvis.
The man's fingertips skirted her shoulder blades as he reached behind her, adjusting the straps. Rosalie leaned into him, giving him better access. When the last strap was settled into place with a soft click,Raymond reluctantly moved so she could see the result.
Rosalie let out a surprised gasp as she looked in the large mirror at the foot of the bed. The holster was tucked perfectly in the dip of her waist on her left side. The right side sat parallel to it, holding holsters for two clips.
A ghost of a grin appeared on Raymond's face. The holster looked better on her than it ever had on him. He picked up the Browning, reloaded the clip and tucked it into the holster for her, his knuckles just grazing her ribcage. The pair loaded the two spare clips, inserting them into their appropriate slots.
Rosalie felt the weight added to her frame but it wasn't uncomfortable. They then loaded the Colt; Red attempted to secure it to her ankle, but upon further inspection, found an ankle strap holding one of her razor sharp knives already there. He had looked up at her chuckling at the discovery, and conceded to the thigh holster she owned for now. They would find her a more discrete option shortly.
Looking like a little rebel fighter, Rosalie reached on her tiptoes to kiss Raymond's cheek. "Thank you" she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a moment before heading to change her clothes.
As he watched the little woman flounce out of the bedroom, Raymond made a mental note to get her a jacket like his. It would make carrying that much fire power infinitely easier.
And he was convinced she would look adorable in it.
The man brought a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a chuckle and an exasperated sigh. Nothing could come of him and Rosalie, he knew that, but it was a terribly pleasant idea.
Florian's Warehouse - Munich, Germany
Half an hour later, the group headed into the warehouse where the rest of the team and their captive were waiting. Red sent Kate's group back to their safehouse with Otto, leaving Raymond, Dembe, Horace, and Rosalie with Altan.
Red wasted no time in grilling Altan for every detail of the person who had hired him. Altan provided dates, transactions, currencies, phone numbers, anything that Reddington thought could give him an indication of who ordered the hit.
Rosalie sat perched on an abandoned desk nearby, listening to Altan's answers. She didn't understand how he could be so stupid as to pick a fight with Raymond Reddington. She hadn't even known who Red was when he came looking for her, and she had taken to ground rather than confront him. Whomever ordered the hit would have to be equally stupid or an actual threat to Raymond.
The man had just asked Horace and Dembe to bring the car around when chaos rained down on the warehouse. The guards had been gone two minutes, when Red had stood up to speak with Rosalie. A shot ricocheted off the wall six inches from the man's head.
"Get down!" Red bellowed, taking cover behind a massive filing cabinet.
Rosalie flipped backward, right off the edge of the desk, tucking herself safely behind its bulk. Shots poured into the warehouse at a deafening volume. Windows shattered, pipes burst, and the office furniture was torn to shreds as the projectiles ripped through them.
Rosalie looked up at Raymond, seeing the shock and confusion she felt mirrored in his eyes.
Who the hell was shooting at them? Who knew they were here?
One of the burst pipes was pouring thick steam out onto the filing cabinets where Raymond stood. He used the cover to make his way over to Rosalie, taking shelter behind the desk with her.
"I counted four shooters," he murmured, "one on the stairs leading to the foreman's office, one in the door leading to the back alley, and two coming through the truck bay.
Rosalie nodded her agreement, "I've got your back, you've got mine?" She asked, putting her left arm around the man's waist. Red nodded back, mirroring her grasp.
"One,"
"Two,"
"Three!"
The pair popped out from behind their hiding spot, one arm still securely wrapped around the other's middle, guns blazing.
They fired shot after shot, carefully taking out their assailants. Red dropped the shooter in the back alley entrance while Rosalie sent the man atop the stairs falling to the floor with a sickening crunch. Their shots drove the two in the truck bay back just in time for them both to be hit by Horace driving the town car. Their bodies went flying, hitting the opposite wall with identical thuds.
The bodyguards leapt from vehicle, rushing to cover their charges.
It was then that Red noticed the wet spot blooming on his shirt. He thought it odd, he didn't remember getting shot. He must have, though, as the left side of his shirt was turning bright red. He looked confusedly at the spot before realizing that was not hisblood.
Rosalie stood looking just as surprised as he was. A stray bullet had snuck between their sides, singing a tear in Raymond shirt and nicking Rosalie's hip in the process.
"Oh," she whispered, still surprised. She glanced at Raymond, suddenly a little light-headed. "Well, that can't be good…"
Reddington scooped her up in his arms, shouting at their guards to take them to Mr. Kaplan. The men jumped into the front of the vehicle, revving the engine and speeding off into the night. Horace tore through the streets of Munich to the other safehouse, all the while listening to Rosalie's insistence that 'It's only a flesh wound,'and, 'Honestly Horace, I don't pay the Munich police enough to ignore your blatant speeding, slow down!'
A long ten minutes later, they finally made it to the safehouse, where Horace took the bleeding woman from Raymond and hurtled inside.
The Bluebell Villa - Madrid, Spain - December 1998
It had been three weeks since the altercation at Florian's warehouse in Munich. Altan had been killed in the siege, whether on purpose or by accident remained to be seen.
None of the shooters lived to be of any use. No names, no identifying information could be found. Much to Red's fury, the bodies had also disappeared once they arrived at the city morgue in Munich. Someone had come to collect them, ensuring he could not garner any information from the corpses.
The trail for who ordered the hit on Patrick had gone stone cold. Reddington had advised his people to continue operations but to lie low. The search continued for the mystery assailant, but without any actionable information, they were hunting in the dark.
The bullet which had grazed Rosalie left a two-inch tear in the woman's hip. Kate had agreed it was merely a flesh wound. However, that had not stopped the men, Florian in particular, from getting bent out of shape about it.
Rosalie had insisted on carrying on the same as always, not taking a moment to recoup. Her refusal to take five minutes to recover was culminating that night in a charity event she was attending in Florian's stead. She had just changed the bandages on her hip and donned her gown for the evening when she made her way to the villa's first floor.
A pair of hazel eyes watched her has she descended the stairs. "Rosalie, you look even more ravishing than usual." Raymond purred, eyeing the cut of her gown.
It was obviously a custom piece, made specifically for the purpose of hugging the woman's curves, which Red believed it accomplished spectacularly. The dress had a sweetheart neckline which cupped the swell of her breasts tantalizingly, making the man's pulse race. The fabric was a turbulent grey mixed with midnight blue, the exact colour of a stormy night. It was very becoming on her, making those mischievous grey eyes sparkle an almost oceanic blue. An intricate silver chain completed the look, draped daintily around her neck and holding a startling white fire opal.
"I'm stuck attending Marcelo's shindig in Florian's place." She grumbled, "I'm not even allowed a plus one."
Reddington beamed at her. "You know Marcelo? I was under the impression he only preferred men."
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, "Know this from personal experience, Raymond? And here I've been thinking you were the epitome of the alpha male."
The man chuckled at the barb, shaking his head as she left with her guards.
The moment he heard their car start, Raymond made a beeline for the burner phone.
Dembe's eyes looked stonily at him over his teacup, already knowing what the man was up to.
"Marcelo! How are the Pomeranians?" Red chimed jovially upon the man answering.
"Oh I'm sure they look darling…You know, I'm in town at the moment and thought I would see if you are available for dinner and a little shop talk..."
Dembe sighed exasperatedly at Raymond who pursed his lips and waved him off.
"A party you say?..."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to impose..."
"Are you sure?..."
"You are an absolute dear, Marcelo. I'll see you in 20."
Red snapped the phone shut and looked peevishly at Dembe. "Don't give me that look, you'll still have the night off. I just need a ride to Marcelo's first."
The young man rose stoically, his expression one of distinct disgruntlement.
"Party pooper" Raymond groused, heading to pull his tux from the closet.
It had been a few weeks since Red and Rosalie had one of their late night excursions, and the man found he was missing them dearly. A night out at Marcelo's would be just the ticket, and once he found out the location, he couldn't resist. Imagining the deep amusement that would flood Rosalie's face upon his arrival gave the man an extra bounce in his step as he readied for the evening.
Twenty minutes later, Dembe pulled the town car into the drive of a magnificent villa on the opposite hill from the safehouse. Marcelo greeted Raymond warmly, the host's flamboyant suit clashing spectacularly with Red's neat tux. The men promised to meet up and talk business later that night, a promise which Raymond fully expected the man to conveniently forget.
There was a spectacular band at the far end of the room playing 50's era crooners and big band swing. The expansive ballroom held a balcony aloft at each end, dotted with small tables for socializing guests.
The Concierge of Crime scanned the room carefully, looking for his target. He located her after a few minutes, finding her dancing with a well-known arms dealer from Nicaragua. She was nodding stiffly to whatever the man was saying, eyebrows slightly furrowed in annoyance.
Considering that his cue, Raymond moved expertly to cut in on Rosalie's dance card. Her eyes shone with stifled amusement as her previous partner skulked off to the bar.
"Oh dear, I see they've gone and let the riff-raff in."
"They certainly did, I'm here to liven things up."
"Thank God," she sighed exasperatedly, "It's been incredibly dull without you."
He found himself hoping she meant it.
Rosalie leaned in conspiratorially, "So I take it Marcelo was amicable to your being my plus one?"
"Nonsense, I'm gate crashing." Red intoned, spinning her out of the reach of a young man looking to cut in.
A tinkling laugh escaped Rosalie's mouth at the man's antics, her eyes shining fondly at her cohort. "Well, however you got here, thank you for saving me from the handsy Nicaraguan and," she jerked her head towards the opposite end of the dance floor, "whoever that was."
"I would have gladly escorted you for the night." Red mentioned off-handedly.
Rosalie glanced up at him, surprised. "I didn't think you would want to come." she said earnestly.
"I'm always up for a party," he smiled playfully, "A sensational woman on my arm sweetens the pot." The man added, making her giggle as he dipped her expertly.
"Good, you can be my date from now on. Make these things less tedious." her tone was casual, but she felt her tummy flip at her own brashness. She didn't doubt she would be much happier having Raymond with her at these sorts of events. He was endlessly entertaining, carried himself well, and made her feel feminine, desirable even.
"I accept. However, I can't help but notice I don't see your firearm, young lady." He chided teasingly. Ever since their talk in Munich, the woman had carried a gun. This evening was the first night Raymond had seen her without it.
"You didn't see it when we first met, either." She countered, her eyes glinting mischievously.
"Oh?" he crooned, recalling the events of that day quite clearly. "I do recall you mentioning one, but I never saw it. You could have been lying for all I know."
A laugh erupted from the little woman, "Ah, the feminine mystique strikes again. Who knows, you might catch a glimpse of it later."
The woman had been completely joking, but the reaction she garnered from her counterpart was quite real. Red's eyes had turned impossibly dark, heatedly examining her features. She felt a shiver skirt down her spine as his arm tightened about her waist, spinning them again.
Florian had arrived a little late to the party, seeking out his young protégé with a weary smile. He had lied, telling her the weather was too poor for him to come, hoping to surprise the little woman. As his bright eyes scanned the ballroom, he fell on a vision in midnight blue lace. The dress was a favourite of hers. The blue gown was like a sea in a storm, bringing out the best in Rosalie's eyes.
Though he was not surprised to find her on the dance floor, the man wassurprised to find her in the arms of none other than Raymond Reddington. Raymond was holding the woman close, tenderly even as they swayed to the music. Florian could see Reddington's mouth moving against the shell of her ear, and as they turned on the dance floor, he saw Rosalie lean her head into his, beaming and laughing merrily at what he had said.
She looked… incandescent. In truth, Florian had never seen the young woman glow the way she did now.
He had been curious to see how their partnership would turn out. He found himself surprised at the result. The pair were thick as thieves, alternating between talking animatedly and whispering languidly in each other's ears. Florian watched them for a long while, enjoying the sight of Rosalie so happy.
This thought darkened, however, as he remembered the incident in Munich a few short weeks ago. His adopted daughter had been shot. Though it was merely a flesh wound, the thought notion Florian back to his initial discussion with Reddington. He was entrusting the man with someone very precious to him, and she had been shot.
The older man was determined to speak with him. He made his way across the dance floor, earning a surprised squeal of delight from the young woman in Red's grasp. He kissed the girl, deploring how beautiful she looked in rapid French before coaxing her into getting a drink while he discussed business with Raymond.
The pair stepped up to a secluded table on one of the balconies, giving them a good view of the ballroom below.
"Florian," Reddington began, knowing what this was about, but the older man cut him off.
"She was shot." Florian rumbled, his discontent being made known. "My daughter was shot, while dealing with an issue in yourorganization."
"Yes," said Raymond, knowing there was no use in arguing the truth. "However, the attack was thoroughly neutralized. My people are hunting down the responsible party as we speak."
This news did little to settle Florian's nerves.
The men watched as the woman in question sat relaxing in her seat, knees crossed and foot bouncing along to the music.
A man sidled up to Rosalie, taking the seat next to her and leaning entirely too close for either man's liking. The young buck was talking animatedly to her, and Raymond was secretly happy to see her looking completely disinterested.
She caught both men staring at her and raised an imperious eyebrow in their direction, noting the matching scowls. Both Raymond and Florian inclined their heads at the man, who had just lifted his hand.
Determined to have Rosalie's undivided attention, he placed said hand on her thigh. This was the wrong move. Raymond let out an audible growl which caused Florian to smirk knowingly at him. "She will be fine." He rumbled in his deep French lilt, already aware of what would happen next.
Rosalie's eyes flitted to the man's hand for a millisecond before reaching for her teacup. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she dumped half of the scalding liquid onto the offending appendage.
A yelp rang throughout the room as the man wrenched it back, waving it back and forth. Red had to stop himself from laughing out loud at the exchange as Rosalie remained seated, perfectly unphased by the man's howling.
Mischievous grey eyes met Red's twinkling hazels and winked as the little woman took a long, exaggerated sip.
Florian watched the pair carefully. Rosalie's eyes were for Raymond alone. Something had occurred between them, the man was certain of it.
"She cares for you." He said softly, eyes locking with Raymond's.
"Hmm?" asked Raymond, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.
"She cares for you." Florian repeated, eyeing the man carefully. "Perhaps too much."
Red's expression darkened at this statement.
Florian's icy blue eyes looked out over the crowd, softening slightly when he looked at Rosalie.
"I want better for her." The man stated vehemently. "I wouldn't let her date any man in the Corsican gang because I wanted better for her. She deserves a life in which she won't be shot at. Where she will be safe."
The man turned to look at Raymond again, "Can you tell me she could ever have that with you?"
The Concierge of Crime stood staring gobsmacked at Florian. How could he possibly know what had transpired between Red and Rosalie three weeks ago?
The question apparently showed in his expression.
"It's quite obvious to anyone who bothers to look." the man intoned, pushing off of the balcony's railing. "I want more for her Raymond, and if you care one iota for her, so should you."
The man walked away without another word.
The rest of the evening went along smoothly as far as Rosalie was concerned. She noticed a little frigidity between Florian and Raymond, but assumed it had to do with whatever business they were discussing.
She danced a few dances with Florian before passing him off to Marcelo's maiden aunt so she could find her business partner.
She found him at their table, quietly contemplating his scotch. As Rosalie took a seat next to him, he brought up a topic for discussion. Something of which Red was terribly curious.
"Why did you let me hold you?" he asked quietly, the thought had been plaguing him since that day.
"Because I wanted you to." Rosalie said offhandedly.
"To solidify our earlier discussion about trust?" He asked pointedly, for some reason the notion bothered him and wouldn't leave his mind until he heard the truth from her.
"No." She said immediately, scowling at the very idea. "I wouldn't try to sway you with my feminine wiles, Raymond. I'm a bit cleverer than that and nowhere near as cruel."
Red found himself pleased with her response, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
Rosalie noted how he relaxed after she'd said it. Did he really think she would try such a thing? She swallowed as she realized she couldn't very well tell him the truth. The woman decided to redirect the discussion at warp speed.
"Why did you let me sleep in your arms?"
"Because I wanted you to." he said, cocking his head and grinning impishly at her. The expression brought a reluctant smile to her lips.
"You could have kicked me out." She pointed out, suddenly curious.
"That would have been rude."
"You could have gone to the other side of the bed." She reasoned.
"That's not my side." He grumbled, the notion of sleeping on the left hand side somehow offensive.
Her questioning had effectively directed him away from her own reasoning, but now Rosalie was terribly curious as to why hehad allowed the affection.
"Ok, you could have pushed metoward the other side."
"That would have been significantly less comfortable." He chuckled, taking another sip of his scotch. She was avoiding his question.
"Raymond, why did you hold me?"
"Rosalie, why did you let me?"
"Because I liked it." She admitted, her face flushing an even deeper scarlet. "You were warm and comfortable and…" Rosalie's mind wandered back to the dark, secluded comfort of Raymond's bedroom. The scent of the man held her there, paralyzed by a sense of comfort and belonging.
She didn't lethim hold her, she practically crawled under his skin, she had so deeply desired to be close to him. How could she explain that without it being weird?
"And?" Red interjected, intrigued to know where the woman's mind had run off to.
"And…I missed that." she finished lamely, at a loss for what could save her. Rosalie's voice diminished slightly, her nerves getting the better of her. "I hadn't realized, how much I missed…" she couldn't bring herself to finish.
"I held you because I needed to." admitted Raymond quietly, "I'd forgotten, how comforting it can be. I didn't realize how much I missed it too."
They stared at one another, not sure what they should say now. Rosalie suddenly wanted to go home. The party wasn't much fun anymore.
Raymond read her mind, silently summoning their guard to take them back to the safehouse.
Teddy Beaumont, one of Rosalie's men, had become their ipso facto night guard. The man was of a better disposition than Otto Henschke, and was happy to accompany Raymond and Rosalie on their late night shenanigans. Most importantly, the man knew to keep a respectful distance, allowing the pair to enjoy their time away from their respective businesses in relative solitude.
Tonight, however, Red would have given anything for the man to have talked more, filling some of the deafening silence that was the car ride home.
When they finally reached the villa, the pair left Ted to sort out the car. The house was dark as they entered, making their way up the stairs toward the bedrooms.
Raymond and Rosalie headed somewhat reluctantly towards their own rooms, their footsteps echoing to opposite corners of the hallway. As Rosalie's hand met the handle to her bedroom, she turned to glance at Red's retreating form.
Instead, their eyes met as he stood in the same position, hand on his own door, looking meaningfully at her. Seconds seemed to stretch into days as the two stood in the hall, unable to break eye contact. Red's hazel eyes were boring into Rosalie's, making the woman's pulse race even from a distance.
The desire to close the space between them again was only kept in check by an oppressive sense of foreboding.
They shouldn't. They knew that.
Without needing to ask each other, both seemed to know there were emotions beyond an innocent friendship brewing between them.
It also went without asking that it would be a terrible idea for them to act on those emotions. A romantic relationship would leave them vulnerable. It would create a weakness that could end them both.
Rosalie knew full well she didn't want to be the downfall of Raymond Reddington. To hell with her own empire, she knew the man well enough to know he was readying for something much bigger than what she was facing. Rosalie could liquidate her own criminal pursuits and have more than enough to provide for her mother and herself. She continued because she felt this world was where she belonged and because she wanted to be absolutely certain no one could touch her family. Raymond was in it for entirely different reasons.
The woman sighed morosely, trying to convey with her shimmering grey eyes as she opened the door to her room, she would much rather be sleeping in his arms. She stepped into the space and closed the door before she could do something they would both regret.
Raymond had watched the little innkeeper as she walked toward her room and was pleased beyond recognition when she turned to gaze back at him. He had felt it all night, a shift in their dynamic.
Something had changed between them.
Red could have sworn the woman now sensed he wanted more from her, and that she wanted more from him in turn.
She crossed the threshold into her room with a look that told Raymond he had not imagined these feelings. Rosalie felt it too. There was a flicker of attraction, a sensation of belonging between them that made the air hum with electricity.
Red had openly flirted with the Rosalie from the beginning of their acquaintance, not once thinking anything about it. Their business relationship had been enough. They hadn't been working together that long, but Raymond couldn't imagine moving throughout the world without her now.
He had never really sought a romantic companion after becoming Raymond Reddington. He had engaged in the occasional dalliance, of course. He was only a man, after all, and one with a rather voracious libido, come to that. But in the end, he had always believed he was meant to live Reddington's life alone. His purpose was to protect Lizzie and ensure she would have a normal life. Only his freedom and her safety mattered.
However, having Rosalie with him every day was somewhat altering the man's philosophy. He readily admitted his life was more enjoyable with a warm, affectionate woman in the picture. In truth, he positively adored her. Red liked to think she felt the same. She went out of her way to see to his happiness, to bring warmth and comfort to his life, something that he had never encountered from a woman before.
The women Red had dealt with, the criminals especially, be it sex, money, or connections, had all wanted something from him. Even Katarina had ultimately wanted something from him. Rosalie was different in many ways, but none more so than how she treated him. She was warm, kind, and endlessly selfless where Red was concerned.
Raymond rarely, if ever, denied himself anything. So why was he denying himself her? Without stopping to consider the consequences, Red whipped the master bedroom door open and strode swiftly down the hall.
He tapped on Rosalie's door softly, trying not to wake Horace or Dembe. A soft shuffling noise could be heard before the door opened.
Rosalie stood in a silk pyjama set in a deep peacock blue, a white floral kimono draped across her shoulders to ward off the night's chill.
Reddington reached a hand out to grasp Rosalie's waist, the other rising up to cup her cheek. The motion was intimate and sensual, making the young woman shiver in expectation. The man's lips had just barely skirted hers when they were interrupted.
Dembe's calm voice echoed into the hallway, "Raymond, there is a phone call for you."
Raymond sighed in irritation, resting his forehead against Rosalie's. She gave him a sympathetic smile and reached up to stroke his cheek.
"It's probably for the best." she whispered regretfully, taking a step back into her room. The woman needed to get her bearings. Falling for Raymond Reddington was a terrible idea for various reasons; not a single one of which she could think of at that particular moment.
Raymond knew she was right, of course. It was for the best. A moment's weakness would have had them crossing a line they couldn't uncross. There was too much at stake for him to pursue her, though he now realized, he dearly wanted to. It didn't help that Florian's earlier words were still echoing in his head.
Red leaned back to look around the door. Dembe was standing at the other end of the hall, waiting for him. "Damn." The man whispered, giving Rosalie one last mournful look before striding to his office.
Five minutes earlier - Rosalie's room
"So?" a smug voice echoed from the corner of the bedroom as Rosalie shut the door.
The sound startled Rosalie so badly that she instantaneously lobbed one of her heels at the corner of her room.
Horace caught the projectile with ease. "Merde, woman how do you walk in these?" He asked, squinting at the shoe with a look of utter bafflement.
"Horace!" She hissed, clutching her chest, "Why are you skulking in the corner of my room?"
Horace chuckled at her terrorized expression. "I'm not skulking, I've been waiting to see how your little outing with Reddington went." He teased, tossing the woman's projectile back at her.
Rosalie deftly snagged the heel by one of its straps, scowling at her guard. "Nothing happened. Go play gossip girl with the rest of the boys." She was in a sour mood, and opted to go change rather than deal with her nosy head of security.
"We all know Otto was likely too busy chasing tail to pay much attention to you two, and Teddy is too much of a loyal sod to tattle."
Rosalie stepped back out of the closet, already out of her gown and into her pyjamas. Her expression was rather dour, making Horace cease his teasing.
"What happened?" He asked, a note of concern tingeing his voice. Spending time with Reddington usually left Rosalie in a good humour, but tonight there was something decidedly off-kilter.
Rosalie had just opened her mouth when a soft tap issued from the door. The young woman's brow furrowed at the sound. She hesitated a moment before padding over to the door and swinging it open.
Rosalie's bodyguard peeked around the armoire he was hidden behind. His mouth fell open at the sight of Reddington pulling the woman tightly to him, their lips just barely grazing each other's before Dembe's voice could be heard. Horace winced, listening to the exchange between Raymond and Rosalie before the Concierge of Crime left to take the call.
The woman closed the door to the sound of Raymond's retreating form, the quiet of her bedroom suddenly oppressively loud. She pressed her back into the door, willing the feelings of bitter disappointment to abate. Instead of subsiding, the feelings worsened, making Rosalie's eyes burn with tears as she slid to the floor.
Horace was at her side immediately, pulling the small form into his arms. Rosalie's shoulders shook as she leaned into her guard's embrace. The man's brow furrowed as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. It was a rare occurrence for his charge to fall apart like this. Horace stroked her arms gently, allowing her to muffle her sobs with his shoulder.
The woman was coming to terms with the fact that somewhere in the past few months she had started falling for Raymond Reddington. She also had to reconcile with the absolute truth that nothing could ever come of it.
Both she and Reddington had painstakingly built their empires, and for reasons greater than themselves. They had sacrificed so much already, but neither of them could afford to lose their footing now.
"Can I ask?" Horace questioned, understanding the woman's turmoil.
"He knows. I know. Something has changed. We both can feel it, but we can't do anything about it." She murmured sadly.
"We just can't."