The Concierge & The Citadel

by RosalieReddington

"There are few that understand love and loss more than I..." Raymond Reddington once had a relatively normal life. A wife, a child, a few good friends. Fate was unkind when it took those he loved. Now, as he faces death row, fate returns a familiar face that will bring memories, joy, and love back to Red's life. Pre-Blacklist Years. (Mostly) Cannon Compliant.

22. Stress Management

SoHo Safehouse - August 14th, 1999

Raymond lay glowering at the ceiling of the master bedroom for hours.

His plane had landed at Teterboro around 6 that evening, with five hungry and exhausted passengers in tow. Despite a full stomach and a piping hot shower, sleep still remained elusive as the man tossed and turned beneath the sheets. He had counted the tin ceiling tiles a multitude of times, had followed their intricate swirling pattern from one corner of the room to the other until his eyes crossed, and yet his mind continued to spin endlessly.

Their little band of criminals was not due to be in New York for another month, but when Raymond was informed an important shipment making its way down the Hudson had gone mysteriously missing, he was forced to forgo the meeting he had planned in Ecuador in order to settle matters in Manhattan.

This theft was the latest in a string of moderately large acquisitions which had slipped through the man's fingers under questionable circumstances. Though the whole of his business functioned under questionable circumstances, this current array of hiccups was more than a little suspect.

In the past four months, Raymond had been outpaced on three separate shipping opportunities through New York. It wouldn't be such an issue if the shipping of contraband wasn't the very lifeblood of his empire. After the third outbid acquisition, Red had gone directly to the source, pre-negotiating a higher rate to ensure he got their business for the next several months. The first shipment for this agreement came to fruition twelve hours ago, before promptly disappearing.

The man couldn't shake the feeling these events were all related, and someone in the criminal underground was intent on attacking his business. With no knowledge of who could be behind the heist or the previous lost deals, Raymond had immediately altered course to New York, keeping everyone but Dembe, Rosalie, and Kate in the dark.

Kate Kaplan was now en route to Rosalie's Upper West Side apartment with Baz and Brimley, waiting on Raymond's word for what would happen next. The man needed to keep the breach as quiet as possible in order to secure the responsible party and uncover the full extent of the incursion.

Frustrated and on edge, Red glanced at the form of the innkeeper sleeping soundly beside him in the spacious bed.

His lover was, as usual, wrapped in one of his shirts. The blankets conformed to her shapely silhouette, cruelly leaving little to the man's imagination. His blood began to heat at the thought of Rosalie's sensuous body, a mere arm's length away.

The air conditioning in the safehouse was on full blast to chase away the heat and humidity which had swallowed Manhattan whole the evening of their arrival. The room was cool, the sheets held a nice chill to them, and Rosalie… Raymond knew she would be wonderfully warm.

The woman's blonde hair fanned out in still-damp waves on the pillow beside her. Raymond knew the strands held a bright and subtle scent, like an arrangement of exotic orchids, which he never seemed to tire of burying his nose in. The bouquet was doubly intoxicating when combined with the woman's natural pheromones, leaving the man nuzzled against the nape of her neck almost obsessively. Tonight Rosalie would also bear a lingering whiff of Raymond's bath products, as he had snuck into the shower with her shortly after their arrival.

Whether it was his aftershave, his cologne, or a hint of their shared pleasure, the man always quietly thrilled in picking up traces of himself on her skin. It stroked a primal, possessive corner of his psyche, triggering his insatiable libido.

As he lay there, Red hungered for that sweet spot where her neck and shoulders met, knowing it held all of the tantalizing scents he desired.

If he played his cards right, the man was certain he could add the sweet scent of her arousal to the blend as well.

"You're awake."

Raymond twitched at the sound of a gentle, drowsy voice.

Rosalie blinked up at him with half-lidded eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Neither of them were morning people. Their lifestyles were naturally suited to a nocturnal existence. Yet early morning had somehow become the witching hours for their passion in the past month. Something about the sun's golden glow and the silent, still safehouses made the pair ravenous. With everyone else asleep, they knew the likelihood of being interrupted was slim, allowing the couple to take their sweet time teasing and exciting each other, soothing their stress and restlessness in the best way available to them.

A slender hand wriggled out from under the sheets, caressing Red's bare chest in a comforting pattern, "You've been up all night."

The man didn't ask how she knew, he merely placed his broad hand over hers as though it were perfectly commonplace. "I fear this is going to be an ugly couple of weeks." He confided his concerns to her, his mind still churning in the background.

"You think it will take that long to sort out?" Rosalie asked, a tad surprised.

"To completely unwind the problem and repair the damage done? Yes, I estimate it will take at least two weeks to get my New York shipping operation back to where it was."

The woman closed the distance between them, curling up against Red's side. "You'll let me know what I can do to help?"

The man let out a vexed huff, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're already helping by setting up Kate and the others. I appreciate you keeping the issue from your security."

"Of course, but, should you need anything, just say the word."

Red smiled down at her. "Just say the word, hmm?"

The woman giggled, cupping his cheek and soothing her thumb over the stubble she found there. "Yes indeed."

"I may not be the most pleasant man to be around while all this is going on." Raymond warned, knowing how irritable he could get in these instances. "If I'm short or-"

Rosalie placed a finger to his lips. "I won't take it personally," she promised, "and I'll do my best to help alleviate that frustration."

Her lover's brows rose in question, "How do you plan to manage such a feat?" He mumbled against her fingertip, making the woman titter.

"Oh, I have my ways." She assured, nuzzling his nose with her own.

Damn, he loved it when she did that.

Raymond's mouth captured hers, one hand fisting the blonde curls at the base of her neck. His tongue moved languidly between her lips, stroking the sensitive corners of her mouth with fervor. The man diligently kindled the fire in her belly, enticing her to surrender to his coaxing.

Rosalie tangled with him, her tongue battling his for dominance as her fingertips carded through his already tousled hair.

Red kissed her senseless, till she was dizzy with lust and arching into his grasp. He kissed her till she burned with wanton desire, till no amount of physical contact was enough.

Nothing quieted his agitated mind like this woman wrapped snugly around his cock, and he positively ached to be joined with her again. His hips rocked forward, the straining erection jutting from his pelvis grinding against her curves, leading her to his way of thinking.

A soft sigh tumbled from Rosalie's lips, her body immediately responding to the incentive, hitching a leg up onto Raymond's hip and bringing the stiff rod into contact with the heated valley of her thighs. "We have to be up in a couple of hours." She reminded, kissing him again. Her teeth nipped his bottom lip before her tongue eased into the waiting cavern, flicking and swirling in a sensual rhythm while her hands roamed his back and torso.

"I'm content to play until then." Red husked, breaking the kiss long enough to pin his lover to her back. His five o'clock shadow nuzzled her cheeks and jawline, tickling her sensitive skin.

Rosalie giggled and squirmed, "I doubt you've slept a wink. You really ought to get some rest." Her hands half-heartedly pushed at his chest, attempting to waylay his pleasurable instigating. The woman gasped when Raymond tugged open the shirt she was wearing, baring her to the cool room and sending a couple of buttons tumbling amongst the sheets.

"Not until I've satisfied this damn ache."

The man nipped the length of her neck, pressing the rapidly hardening length of his shaft against her core for emphasis. His ravenous mouth trickled down her burning skin; his senses basked in the warmth of her lovely form and the delicate blend of scents he had been wistfully contemplating earlier.

"We really should go back t-" Rosalie began, her breath hitching mid-sentence as his lips descended on her breasts, eager to taste the voluptuous mounds.

Red nibbled the tender bud of an exposed nipple, sending a deluge of goosebumps down her frame.

"Raymond," she mewed, immediately giving up the fight and arching happily into his mouth.

The man gave a sultry chuckle, amused at how easily she cast aside any resistance. The woman practically purred like a little kitten as he toyed with her young, vital body.

"I hope you don't cave this easily when the feds inevitably come looking for me." He joked, taking the other nipple into his waiting mouth and flicking its tip with his hot tongue.

Rosalie's back bowed higher, desperate for more of his particular brand of torment. "Unless they have your mouth as an interrogation method, I think your secrets are safe with me."

She sniggered when Raymond's forehead fell with a thud against her sternum, a deep moan reverberating against her chest. The racy quip uttered in that breathy sigh was too much to take as far as he was concerned.

"You like my mouth, hmm?" Red demanded, his breath carrying over the nipple he abandoned, making the pink flesh tighten painfully.

Rosalie squeaked as deft fingers reached up to roll and pinch the little peak, making her writhe in delighted agony. "Yes," she couldn't hold back a whimper, his ministrations sending frissons of pleasure down to the very tips of her toes.

"Some people insist I use it to talk too much." He commented idly, enjoying the sight of her squirming wantonly before him.

The woman's fingers skated over his chest and arms with affection as she shook her head. "Darling, I love the way you talk." Her tone was reverent while her teeth caught her bottom lip, toying with a coquettish smile.

Raymond grinned, thumbing the rosy pout from its captivity and claiming it for his own, the kiss-reddened flesh too plump and inviting to leave untouched.

Rosalie moaned, cradling his cheek and wrapping herself more tightly around him.

A deep grunt issued from the man's mouth, "You love it because I whisper dirty little things in your ear." He growled, placing his lips to the place in question and purring in that silky baritone which he knew would set her off like a shot.

His lover actually quivered, the excited shiver skirting her frame from head to toe.

Raymond chuckled triumphantly, leaning back to smirk at the very willing woman before him. "I knew it. My voice makes you wet, doesn't it."

It wasn't a question, and Rosalie couldn't have denied the accusation if she tried, not with a reaction like that. Yet she wasn't about to stroke his ego this early in the day, he would have to work for such blatant praise. The woman smirked impishly, refusing to answer him and denying any further attempts to kiss her.

Red always knew how to respond to such cheek.

"Perhaps you're right…" he feigned a yawn, "I haven't slept at all, maybe we should-"

The little growl which issued from Rosalie's mouth was nothing short of endearing, "No, no, no. You started this risqué escapade, I expect you to finish it."

The man above her shook with mirth, a boyish grin illuminating his features. "You're awfully pushy in the morning." He chided in a playful tone, easing his boxers down his legs.

A desirous moan could be heard from Rosalie, who wriggled closer to her lover for want of him. All notions of playing hard to get dissipated into the ether when her legs spread in open enticement.

Red groaned at the offering, a powerful pang of desire rippling through him.

Two masculine fingers traced the outline of the woman's slit, gently teasing the glistening pink treasure there. The digits twitched with his restraint, the appendages already restless to delve between those delicate pink lips. Raymond leaned forward, mouth poised at the shell of her ear, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive skin.

"Already so wet, so needy...lucky, lucky me."

Raymond sank a lone finger deep inside her and curled against the woman's g spot. A sweet, shivering gasp leapt from her mouth, making Red's cock pulse with need.

He steadily worked the digit in and out of the inviting channel, coaxing forth more of her slick arousal while he purred the most sensual, filthy little monologue in her ear. He added another finger, twisting and thrusting against her sensitive walls while she squirmed helplessly about beneath him.

"That feels so...so good," she breathed, her mouth falling open when his thumb circled her clit. She came in a matter of seconds, her barely-awake nerves wholly unprepared for the intense stimulation.

In the past month, Raymond had learned one very important thing about these morning sessions with the woman before him: In the wee hours before the sun rose, Rosalie was doubly sensitive, easily aroused, and even more easily brought undone. The man relished these few precious hours of uninterrupted intimacy, and reveled in making his lover shatter in a multitude of ways before finally giving her what she desired most.

The last thing Raymond Reddington could possibly be accused of was being a selfish lover. The man delighted in bringing a woman pleasure; it was half the fun for him, watching enchanted as his slightest touch made them like putty in his hands.

His attention to this woman's needs always returned itself tenfold. When he finally took her, Rosalie's nubile young body was always thrilled by his possession, fighting eagerly to bring forth the same euphoric high he had caused within her. Whether it was the tight, loving cradle of her sex, the smooth stroke of her gentle hands, or the soft cushion of her delectable mouth, his lover more than delivered in the realm of Red's pleasure.

Raymond continued his diligent stroking of Rosalie's g-spot without pause, heedless of the shuddering moans and whimpers still cascading from her mouth.

He lowered his own to the peak of her sex, flicking his tongue gently over the sensitive little pearl there.

Rosalie bucked against the overwhelming stimulation, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

Red snatched said hand and tugged it to the side, "No, little dove. Everyone's asleep and I want to hear all of those lovely little sounds you make."

Rosalie's lungs heaved, panting her involvement as the man's tongue returned to its teasing, bringing her hurtling to the edge again. She couldn't hold back a guttural groan as her sex gripped the writhing digits inside her with unrelenting force.

"Oh… oh… Fuck!" The woman was powerless to the intense sensations occurring. The whole of her body and mind was bent to Raymond's whim as she twitched around him.

Red grinned wildly, thoroughly enjoying the telling flush which slowly bloomed on her chest and the breathy rush of her whispered cussing. He lowered himself slowly, letting his intent settle in her pleasure-addled mind.

The woman quaked, her last orgasm still sending powerful aftershocks along her nerve endings. A shaky mewl fell from her lips before he even reached his destination, driving the man into a frenzy.

Raymond blinked, his green eyes burning, as her feminine form quivered violently. He didn't wait until her body ceased its convulsing, he barely waited for her previous climax to finish before he plunged his talented tongue deep into her wet pussy.

For Rosalie, the world exploded when his lips met her sex. Her hands fisted the sheets above her head and a shimmering whine of pleasure accompanied the sweet taste of the woman's surrender.

Red lapped gluttonously at her tight little quim, fluttering and thrusting his tongue within, determined to coax out every drop of nectar residing there. He hadn't fully realized just how deeply he had been craving her until his mouth was teasing the snug space.

That delicious mix of wildflower honey and warm, wet arousal soothed him and riled him up all at once, quenching his thirst yet igniting an inferno of voracious hunger in its place.

Rosalie's voice was ragged as the man dutifully wound the coil inside her to an unbearable tightness. "Please," her hips lifted in supplication, rutting against the slippery, writhing muscle plundering her depths without mercy.

Raymond was captivated by the gesture, moving to cradle the small of her back in his broad hands, keeping her body elevated toward his relentless oral exploration. A snarl of arousal vibrated from his throat, feeling her pelvis tremble in his upturned palms. His fingertips dug into those supple curves, clutching her tight as her nails skirted the back of his head, gently but insistently holding him to his activities.

"So damn sweet," he groaned against her mound, teasing her with the wonderful softness of his lips and the prickling stubble on his chin and cheeks. "Such a delicious little thing… You have no idea how I've craved you."

The smooth litany murmured seductively against her most sensitive flesh was nearly her undoing.

"Raymond, I need you."

The man had a terrible time denying her anything when she asked so sweetly.

Red's tongue writhed roughly against her clit at the same time his mouth latched around the peak, sending his lover careening over the edge with back-breaking force.

"Shit. Yes, right there!" Rosalie practically squealed as her hypersensitive body shattered once more. The blinding ecstasy made her toes curl, her weak legs shaking and closing in on either side of the man's head, lost to her pleasure.

Raymond grunted and growled, holding the woman in her passion until she collapsed, boneless atop the cool sheets.

Unable to wait a moment longer, the man lifted his heavy cock and hurriedly donned a condom before moving toward the soaked space between Rosalie's thighs.

The rock hard head of his penis disappeared into her waiting depths with a pop, garnering a delighted hiss from them both.

"Still so fucking tight," He grunted his approval, surging forward into the wondrous feeling of her slick heat enveloping him. The scorching channel still fluttered its previous release, rippling and clenching in a frenetic rhythm around the warm, thick rod spreading her wide.

The woman happily took his shaft to the very hilt, beckoning him into that secret sanctuary of unfathomable pleasure.

Raymond set a slow, steady pace, refusing to rush their journey to that euphoric high. He let out a shaky groan, enjoying every last nuance of the warm, wet utopia giving way to his driving force, only to follow his retreat with its greedy embrace.

"Just like that," Rosalie rolled her hips to meet his smooth thrusts, her pussy still quivering in its attempts to accommodate the man's girth.

"Christ, little dove, you feel so good." Raymond moaned, mesmerized as his thick, wet shaft disappeared between her folds and emerged soaked in her arousal. The bulging rod looked almost obscenely large in comparison to the taut, pink lips surrounding it.

His lover trailed her nails down the expanse of his back, making the man shudder and thrust forcefully back inside her. The woman bounced off his shaft with a husky yelp, her breasts jostling erotically with the rough movement.

"Oh Ray," she sighed her bliss, contentedly kissing and stroking every available inch of him as she arched into his every move.

Raymond's arms wrapped around her, reaching up behind her shoulders to thread his fingers intimately through hers. The proximity brought Rosalie's torso flush with Red's, the soft curlicues of the man's chest hair tickling and teasing her breasts and abdomen. The combination of sensations pulled a ribald, wanton mewl from the woman's lips.

"That's a new sound." He husked his delight, breath hitching when the woman clenched his hands in hers, her spine bowing to keep flush with him.

"More," Rosalie pleaded in his ear, rolling her hips lustfully into his downstroke.

They made passionate love, greedily partaking in each other's most intimate virtues, careless of the hour or the house's other occupants. The feminine and masculine bodies entwined in a wild tangle of lips and limbs and trembling, grasping hands.

Deep gray eyes soon looked imploringly upon her lover, desperate to reach the peak he had been building since they woke.

Red gave in to that gaze, holding her at the perfect angle for his chest to continue teasing her desperately sensitive flesh, keeping time with the fat erection pistoning in and out of her until his lover simply couldn't take it anymore. Rosalie's breath came in short, sharp bursts and Raymond felt her grip him, fluttering along his length as ecstasy engulfed her once more.

"God, Rosalie, that's it." He groaned, his hips jerking as her tight heat gripped him like a vice, working to keep his throbbing shaft deep inside her.

"Raymond, don't stop," Rosalie's voice was a shaky gasp, the intensity of her pleasure quite evident as she pulled him close, ravishing his mouth and bucking feverishly into each thrust. Her moans and whimpers vibrated against his lips and along his tongue, adding a new dynamic to the man's pleasure.

"Take me there, honey."

Red was right at the precipice, every fiber of his broad frame tightening in anticipation. His balls ached to empty themselves deep inside the tight little sheath perfectly cradling his thick length.

Rosalie dragged her sharp nails the length of his powerful back, biting back a naughty little grin at the snarl of arousal which poured from Raymond's mouth.

The man slammed his cock deeper within her in response, all but demanding she come again. He was rewarded with a sharp feminine cry of surrender and the volcanic grip of Rosalie's quim clenching around him. The tightness combined with the warm, wet heat of her release surrounding his throbbing head, taking the man forcefully into Nirvana.

Drawn-out, animalistic growls of pleasure accompanied the man's orgasm. The sodden velvet wrapped around his cock milked him dry, endlessly massaging every hypersensitive inch.
"Oh, fuck yes… Harder, honey. God, grip me with that tight, tight little body." Raymond husked as he came, the deep, lascivious groan rumbling loudly from his chest.

He felt Rosalie's exhausted frame meet his request, clutching him even more tightly as the molten space quaked and trembled her orgasm. The action forcefully pulled a broken rasp of pleasure from the man's lips as the last drops of his euphoric release were emptied into the condom.

The pair collapsed into each other's arms, struggling to catch their breath. They shivered and sighed their completion, slowly coming down from the incredible high.

Rosalie kissed along her lover's neck and cheeks, soothing his ragged breathing and showering him with affection.

Grasping the crisp white top sheet, the couple fell to their sides, still wrapped firmly about one another. The two held each other close, whispering their adoration while they quietly keyed down their racing pulses.

In the tranquil spaces after their morning lovemaking, Raymond had discovered one other important fact about his lover. She was especially tender and affectionate when basking in the afterglow.

In these peaceful minutes, Rosalie made Raymond feel adored, cherished even. As the golden specks of light would slowly flicker into the room, she would whisper softly to him, a lovely soothing river of warmth and caring trickling into the corners of his soul, setting him, too, alight with comfort and serenity.

Red hadn't admitted it to anyone, but these moments were becoming some of the most treasured parts of his days.

After such vigorous exercise, the man's eyelids were finally growing heavy. He fought the encroaching fatigue, choosing to kiss the woman in his arms instead, his rough palms sensually caressing the outline of her curves.

"Sleep, honey, I know you're exhausted." Rosalie's nose nuzzled affectionately against his, soothing every corner of him as she did so.

Raymond shook his head, "I love this part." His voice was a low, drowsy whisper, carrying like a soothing balm over the woman's skin.

"I won't stop," she promised, placing a gentle kiss to his temple before gathering him to her breast and cuddling him close.

Raymond snuggled into the warm hollow of his lover's neck, deliciously sated and basking in the soothing comfort of her embrace before sleep instantly dragged him under.

Later that morning, once the pair were awake and dressed, they meandered down to the townhouse's garden floor kitchen for a quick breakfast.

"Aren't you meeting with the Genovese family today?"Rosalie asked her counterpart as she set out an array of fruits, muffins, and condiments onto the lengthy butcher block island.

Raymond was seated in the breakfast nook's small green velvet booth near the far end of the kitchen, already ten words deep into that day's crossword. "Just one second, my dear, There's an eight letter word for ecstasy and it's just on the tip of my tongue."

"Euphoria?" Rosalie guessed without thought, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She could hear the rustle of the paper behind her as the man checked the word.

Raymond scowled at the page, then at Rosalie. "Agh! I almost had it." He bemoaned with an irritable shake of his head.

Rosalie snorted indelicately, clapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her mirth. She had forgotten how much the man hated having curiosities spoiled.

Puzzles, riddles, magic tricks, Raymond adored them all, and relished unraveling the enigmas for himself. If he couldn't manage to discover the truth on his own, he usually preferred to allow such things to remain complete and total mysteries. It was one of the more charming things Rosalie had learned about him since they began their relationship.

"I can hear you giggling over there." Red's deep voice accused from behind the paper wall, his tone of utter petulance oddly endearing.

The innkeeper worked to keep her expression neutral as she crossed the room to placate the grump. "I'm sorry, darling." She apologized, sitting delicately on the curled arm of the booth and carding her fingertips through his short hair.

"You're lucky you're so enchanting," he complained at length, still scowling at the crossword. "…Spoiling my fun."

Rosalie smiled when he wrapped an arm around her hips and pulled her into his lap, sequestering them both behind the paper's spread. His lips met her temple before his attention returned to the puzzle before him.

"Don't tell me, now. I need an eleven letter word for radiant bliss."

"Mid-coitus?" Rosalie offered with a cheeky wink, crossing her legs and nestling further into his hold.

Red smirked. The word did, technically, fit.

"If that's it," He warned in a dangerous tone, plucking the coffee cup from her fingers so he could steal a sip, "I'm going to bend you over my lap right here and you will sorely regret it."

Rosalie scoffed and rolled her eyes, but Red could tell the tiniest part of her squirmed excitedly at the prospect.

"Perhaps it's a phrase?" She continued undaunted, her expression one of utmost innocence. Rosalie had taken over holding the paper as he drank her coffee. The tip of the woman's nose brushed playfully against Raymond's cheek, "Morning sex?…" She kissed his freshly-shaven jawline and glanced back at the paper, "Nope, that's not it… Ooh! What about," she moved her lips to the shell of his ear, "a wet woman?"

Red tutted with a mixture of indulgence and arousal. "It doesn't start with an 'A'." He sighed, thinking it an opportunity thoroughly wasted on behalf of the editors.

The sound of heavy boots could be heard descending the staircase, making their voices drop to a low whisper.

Dembe rounded the corner, smiling knowingly when he saw a copy of the New York Times standing open and upright, covering the top half of the breakfast nook. A pair of slender, female legs could be seen peeking, crossed one over the other, from under the paper. Two small feet in a pair of oxblood leather pumps dangled between a pair of masculine legs in neat beige wool trousers. He could hear the pair good-naturedly bickering back and forth, Raymond's deep voice carrying easily over Rosalie's as he eased the paper back from her grasp.

"Now, you behave yourself for five seconds, you little hellion. Eleven letters, radiant bliss, starts with an 'I' and before you ask, no, it's not 'intercourse'... I already checked."

"Incandescence?" Dembe offered, not even looking up from the glass of orange juice he was pouring.

"Ugh!" Squawked Raymond, tossing the crossword onto the breakfast table with an exasperated sigh.

Rosalie nearly bit through her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Et tu, Dembe?" She teased with a wrinkle of her nose, turning to see the baffled look on her friend's face.

"What did I do?" The younger man asked, confused as to all the hullabaloo.

"You and I are in the dog house for spoiling Raymond's crossword." She explained, her bottom lip jutting out in a mock pout.

Dembe quickly pursed his lips, attempting to waylay a snort of laughter.

"Oh yack it up you cackling hens," Red snipped his pique, glaring at them both. It was obvious he wasn't going to enjoy a crossword anytime soon with two walking talking dictionaries in the house.

Rosalie flashed him a sheepish smile, "We won't ruin any more words, darling. Scout's honor." She gave him a passable three finger salute and lifted the paper once more.

Raymond heaved another grumpy sigh. "Perhaps later, I do have to meet with the Genovese family today, and if we don't leave soon we're going to be late."

"I will pull the car around." Replied Dembe, taking the opportunity to avoid Raymond's suddenly sour disposition. He placed his empty glass in the sink and headed for the exit, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Rosalie turned slowly to her put-out companion, "Are we good, or do I need to wrangle you back to bed and remind you why you enjoy my company so very much?" She nuzzled his nose with hers, and Raymond struggled to maintain his scowl.

His voice still managed a low, irritable grumble, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves, sending me off cranky and ill-tempered… Who knows who I might shoot out of sheer annoyance?"

The woman couldn't help the amused smirk which overtook her features. "You're kinda cute when you're grumpy." She extended the tip of her manicured finger to pet the dip of his Cupid's bow, which was pursed in almighty discontent. "You pout, not at all unlike a little baby ducky."

"Most people find me terrifying." Red warned, his glower still firmly in place. He was fighting a rather dour mood, though he couldn't deny that little finger stroking him in such a way was somewhat soothing.

Rosalie seemed to sense this, continuing undaunted. "Terrifying ducky," she insisted in a menacing voice, "Big, scary ducky… See? No matter how menacing the tone or the adjective, it all gets negated by the sweet, handsome, dare I say… darling, ducky."

Red rolled his eyes and smirked in spite of himself. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Rosalie."

The young woman flashed an impish grin and replaced her teasing fingertip with her lips. "Ah, but the question, darling, is if I'm winning the game." She teased, trailing soft pecks along his jawline before stopping to straighten his tie.

"That remains to be seen." Raymond tutted, guiding her mouth back to his.

Rosalie kissed him slowly, deeply, reminding him of their spirited coupling a few hours ago. A soft moan escaped her when his tongue swirled against hers.

"Now I'm grumpy and aroused." Red complained, his head falling back onto the plush velvet. With little to no sleep and this damn incessant need to bury himself inside her, the man was in for an unbearably long day.

Rosalie's face held an apologetic smile, "Don't shoot anyone and I'll give you a special treat."

Raymond's dark visage perked up slightly, "Special?"

"Mhm…" Rosalie hummed, her slate orbs dancing with their usual mischief, not once leaving her romantic partner's.

The pair eyed each other heatedly, the promise of a great many enticing opportunities hanging wickedly on the air, if only Raymond could behave himself for the next ten hours or so.

"Saints alive, you know you have a bedroom for this shit, right?"

Rosalie's brows knit together in annoyance at the sound of an intruder to their domain. "Seems you're not the only grump today."

Raymond turned carelessly toward the irritable visage of Rosalie's head of security and bestowed a benign smile. "Good morning, Horace! You're looking fit, were you doing push-ups this morning? It sounded like push-ups."

The bodyguard pursed his lips at the man's ebullient greeting, fixing him with a cantankerous scowl before selecting a few pieces of fruit and one of the available muffins.

Rosalie frowned at the surly man's back, already annoyed by his less than polite demeanor.

The altercation with Florian had left a strain on her and Horace's friendship which had yet to be repaired.

Though the man had apologized and the innkeeper was working to confide in her bodyguard as she used to, the task was proving difficult.

The young woman had learned a difficult lesson the day Otto Henschke betrayed her confidence, and as such, had committed herself to being much less lenient on such altercations with the people she employed.

Raymond felt for his young counterpart, understanding she had lost a confidant in both exchanges.

When the German bodyguard had first stopped traveling with them, Rosalie had told Raymond the Corsican gang was in need of Otto's assistance. However, in the course of their time in Norway, she had confessed the truth, that Otto had been divulging details of their life on the run to Florian.

Raymond couldn't blame her for removing the man from her operation, and had assured her he would have done the same thing had he been in her shoes. Sharing privileged information was detrimental to any criminal enterprise, but for one like Rosalie's, it was an absolute death sentence. She simply couldn't take that chance.

However, the issue was not so easily solved when it came to Horace. The man was her right hand, bearing an extensive knowledge of the woman's empire and offering a great deal of support and administrative functions. He would be impossible to replace, and most importantly, the man was one of Rosalie's nearest and dearest friends.

The woman struggled with what to do in regard to her guard, consulting extensively with Raymond and Dembe, who were her only real confidants on the matter.

Both men maintained that though Horace could have handled the exchange more tactfully, he had been trying to keep her safe, and as such, should be given a every benefit of the doubt

Rosalie agreed, taking their advice to heart, and had since thrown herself into healing their divide between her and Horace.

This, however, was proving to be easier said than done.

Horace's disposition was still sour at best, and his irritable outbursts were starting to gnaw at the remaining threads of the woman's patience.

It was not uncommon these days for Rosalie to request Ted take up his shift early. The night guard was akin to Switzerland, creating a neutral territory between Rosalie and Horace, while also being quite friendly with both Raymond and Dembe. Rosalie did not enjoy sidelining her head of security in such a way, but she also wasn't willing to subject herself or her companions to Horace's nasty moods either.

The man in question took his food and headed for the first floor, leaving the two fugitives in solitude once more.

Red took the opportunity to privately make a request of his counterpart. "Could I ask you to meet with Kate today? If you can find a way to meet her alone, that is."

Rosalie nodded, "Of course, that's not a problem. Why do you need me to meet with her?"

"I fear I'm going to be needing her services more often in the near future." He confided, "I need you to initiate whatever preparations you need for her to begin moving along with us."

"Wow… I can't say I'm not surprised." Rosalie's expression filled with concern, "Are you sure everything's alright, Raymond?"

"For now." He insisted, but her soulful gray eyes soon drew the truth right out of him.

"It's just… Ever since Patrick died, I've had this gut feeling something is circling my boat. I need to get ahead of this issue, Rosalie, before it gets out of hand."

The woman held his gaze for a long beat, deciding the explanation certainly sufficed.

"Understood, I'll meet with her this afternoon and get things in motion."

Dembe reappeared in the doorway, signaling the end of their time together.

Raymond kissed the woman once, twice, then regretfully guided her from his lap. A large hand gently lead her by the small of her back, only releasing her once they reached the front door.

"Dinner, tonight?"

The woman smiled warmly up at him, plucking his fedora from his grasp and setting the item carefully on his head. She allowed her fingertips to trace from the sides gently to the front of the brim and back, never pulling, merely ensuring the fit was correct.

"How about we stay in? I'll cook, you need an early night."

Raymond beamed fondly at her, allowing a kiss to his cheek before he and Dembe stepped out onto the sweltering stoop. Both men waved their goodbyes before quickly entering the blessed cool of the air condition sedan.

Raymond couldn't ignore the losing battle Dembe was fighting with a buoyant grin. "What?"

"I like Rosalie." Dembe stated simply, offering no further insight than that.

Two hours later saw the innkeeper and her guard making their way up 10th Avenue, heading for 78th street. The car ride was fairly tense after the disgruntled exchange in the kitchen that morning.

Rosalie simply couldn't understand what caused the man's continued complaint. The two of them had discussed the Norway debacle at length and agreed the matter as a whole could have been handled better. Rosalie and Florian were back to being thick as thieves a mere week after the altercation, yet the relationship between the woman and her guard remained stagnant and at times, almost hostile. She wasn't certain what more she could do to placate the man.

The guard's brow furrowed when they reached the upper west side apartment. Because of the gag order Reddington instilled on this diversion, to Horace's knowledge, no one was staying in this location.

"You're staying out here." Rosalie told him once the vehicle had come to a complete stop in front of the building.

"Why?" Horace didn't like the sound of this, not at all. She never met anyone alone, why would she do so now?

"Rosalie, what's going on? I know you're not involved with his missing contraband, so what gives?"

"I'm meeting with a new client." She answered somewhat honestly, plucking her black folio from the seat beside her.

Horace's expression was cautious and a tad morose. "I always go with you when you meet a client."

"Not today you're not." Rosalie answered curtly, opening the door and stepping out onto the tree-lined street. She could feel the ungodly heat radiating off of the concrete, combining with the stifling humidity in the air.

Her bodyguard stepped from the town car, "Rosalie-"

"No, Horace."

"I-" He let out a frustrated sigh, "I know, things have been tense between us."

Rosalie whipped around, her expression now incredulous. "That's a monumental understatement, Horace. I'm trying like hell to put this disagreement behind us, but you're not making it any easier by continuing to be a gigantic ass." The woman's tone was firm and impassioned, but her friend could hear the pain hidden carefully beneath.

"You're supposed to be my oldest friend, my confidant. Horace, how do I trust you with my life and a great deal of the workings of my empire when you seem to hold me in such contempt?"

Horace stepped back at the accusation, his voice a shocked whisper. "I don't hold you in contempt."

"Then what do you call your recent interactions with me? Because this sure as hell isn't the way we've worked together in the past." The woman had finally reached her limit, "What happened, Horace? Just tell me, so at least I can have a prayer of fixing the issue."

The hulking man had no response for her, merely holding her misting gray eyes with his fathomless black ones.

"I'm staring down the barrel of a massive expansion. The Mandarin's penthouses are ceding to my control in just over a week. A week, Horace, and my network is going to almost double in size. All the while, I feel as though I'm doing this alone, because I don't want to ask you for help. My right hand, the person I'm supposed to be able to go to in all things, with all things, a man in whom I now cannot bring myself to confide, because of his behavior."

"It's not you I'm angry with, it's him." Insisted Horace, his heavy brows arched in supplication.

"Raymond?" Rosalie snapped, "For Christ's sake, Horace, I can't keep up with you. One day you're pushing me toward the man, the next you can't seem to stand him. What is your issue with Reddington? Is there something I've completely missed? He told me the two of you talked out your differences after the fight with Florian, how, how is this still a problem?"

"He's careless with you." Argued Horace, finally giving voice to what was bothering him. "He's careless, and that's something I didn't account for when I pushed you into his arms. I regret that, now."

Rosalie's demeanor turned very dark indeed.

In the past month, she had grown incredibly close to her romantic partner, which was only to be expected. She felt she knew the man well, better than Horace did, at the very least, and was learning more about him every day. The fugitive could be accused of many things. He was a tad self-indulgent, irreverent at times, occasionally a bit of a scoundrel, certainly, but the last thing Raymond Reddington could be accused of was being foolhardy. Least of all with Rosalie. Horace had no idea what the woman's lover was truly like, and he never would. The immense care and caution Raymond exercised with her was one of the carefully guarded corners of the man meant for Rosalie alone. She didn't need to explain or defend the man to anyone.

"You don't understand him at all, Horace. I would hope you'd reserve your judgement of his character until you make a sincere effort to get to know him, or at the very least take into account I wasn't born yesterday." Her voice was a low, acidic hiss, "I know he's not careless, and that should be enough to cease your disgruntled crusade."

The woman turned on her heel and strode into the tall apartment building, muttering a thank you to the kindly doorman who had politely averted his attention from the bickering pair while they loudly aired their grievances.

Horace exhaled a fuming sigh, heading for the coffee shop across the street to wait out the woman's meeting.

208 Sullivan Street - Greenwich Village, Manhattan

A sharp black town car parked quietly and inconspicuously on a side street of Greenwich Village's Washington Square Park.

Raymond Reddington and Dembe Zuma disembarked the sheltered cool of the vehicle, taking a slow walk down Thompson Street as they had been directed. Both men wore sunglasses and hats, seemingly to shade them from the sun's unrelenting glare.

Raymond was in his usual fedora, the brim pulled low over his rose-tinted sunglasses.

Dembe's pate was covered by a pale beige trinity cap, a pair of opaque tortoise shell shades obscuring his eyes from onlookers.

The pair made the turn onto Sullivan Street, nonchalantly heading in the direction of an unassuming storefront. The facing held no signage, no address, no identifying markers of any kind. The only feature denoting this was the place they were looking for was its all-black facade. Everything from the sidewalk cellar doors to the front entry, even the windows, everything was painted a stark, matte black, making the place look decrepit and abandoned.

This was the carefully guarded headquarters of the Genovese crime family, known as "The Triangle Social Club".

Raymond and Dembe glanced surreptitiously over their shoulders as they crossed the street, ensuring they had not been followed.

Upon reaching the flat entryway door, Red reached up with a heavy fist and knocked strategically on its face.

An echoing silence hung in the air for a few moments, interrupted by the occasional car horn or emergency responders' siren. Finally, the door opened just wide enough to cast a strip of light over a lone blue eye, settled in a very tan, wrinkled face.

"You got an invite?"

"Dominick Cirillo vouched for me." Raymond replied in a low rumble, careful to move his mouth as little as possible.

The eye blinked before retreating into the black void behind the door.

The outsiders quickly stepped through, closing the door behind them.

Yellow lights flickered sporadically in the dark before fully illuminating, casting the room in a sepia glow.

Two massive guards stood on either side of the man with the blue eyes, who was short and had a neatly clipped mustache.

Reddington sighed his boredom, removing his hat and sunglasses and spreading his arms wide.

The hairier of the two guards stepped forward and patted him down, removing the fully loaded Browning pistol from the small of the man's back, the Colt 1911 from the hidden compartment in his jacket, the knife tucked near his ankle, and a host of extra clips which were neatly lining various pockets.

The opposite guard conducted the same pat down for Dembe, coming up with a similar arsenal of weaponry, plus a set of brass knuckles.

The two giants cast suspicious looks at the pair, forcing Red to reply with a dry, roguish chuckle.

"I'm an international fugitive, boys, you could hardly expect me to walk around Manhattan carrying a pea shooter."

The wheezing laugh of a three-packs-a-day smoker could be heard issuing from a small table in the back lefthand corner. "Sta bene, sta bene!" The crackling voice called in the low light, ushering the club's security to the side.

As the guards parted like the Red Sea and the tiny blue-eyed man took his leave, the dark, understated room stretched before Red's eyes.

A vintage-looking bar occupied the space to his left, other than that, the club had only two tables, one heavy wooden family-style one occupying most of the room's right side, and a smaller, round table standing nestled in the back left corner.

This smaller table was occupied by five burly mafiosi, all nursing some kind of liquor despite the early hour.

"Red." The same gruff voice, belonging to Dominick Cirillo, called to the Concierge of Crime, beckoning him forward.

Dembe followed, taking his place at Raymond's back a short ten feet away.

"Dom," greeted Red, reaching to shake the older man's hand.

Raymond had met Dominick Cirillo by sheer happenstance at a wild party in Nell's Nightclub during his early years as a criminal. The younger man had enchanted the girlfriend of one of Genovese's capo's right into the nearby coat closet for a little one-on-one time. The capo found out and would have killed Reddington were it not for the other man's quick fire tongue, claiming some sort of lie regarding a lost coat. The elder mafioso had thought the whole altercation an absolute riot, and instantly took a shine to Reddington, if for nothing but his impeccable ability to talk himself in, and out, of a bind.

"Gentlemen," Dominick turned to the table at large, making a sweeping gesture toward their newcomer, "This is Raymond Reddington, he's a friend of mine and Chin's."

The older man gestured to each of the men in turn, starting with a long-faced man on Raymond's left. "Saverio Santora, but we call him "Sammy Black" he's an underboss along with…" He turned, pointing to a small, portly man bearing a seemingly permanent pouting expression, "Venero "Benny Eggs" Mangano."

Both underbosses reached out to shake Raymond's hand, giving him a curt nod before Cirillo continued down the line.

"Little Larry" Dentico was introduced next. He was a short, slight fellow with a receding hairline, and acted as the current consigliere. Then there was Joseph Zito, a stoic man with baleful brown eyes and tightly pursed thin line for a mouth. He was the Genovese's acting boss.

Once introductions were completed, the men wasted no time in getting down to business.

"What can we do for you, Reddington?" Joseph Zito was straightforward, cutting to the heart of the matter with little ado.

Raymond began from the very beginning, "I've encountered a problem in my organization which needs to be quietly unraveled. Three separate acquisitions for various contraband coming into New York were outbid at the last moment in the past three months. I didn't think anything of it as those things tend to happen when bidding for shipments. However, I've encountered a larger problem which must be tended to, and quietly." Red crossed one leg over the other, setting his hat on his knee. "I secured this supplier's business for the next several months to ensure I wouldn't lose out during the bidding process, but the very first shipment from said agreement disappeared once it hit the Hudson."

Benny Eggs scowled suspiciously at the young fugitive. "You've missed out on three of these deals, you said? You finally managed to seal their business and the shipment goes belly up?"

"That's correct," Raymond confirmed, allowing the gravity of potential water bandits on the Hudson to firmly sink into their minds. "I'm a little concerned this could be a symptom of a much more pervasive issue. I came here in search of information."

The mobsters looked grimly at one another, seeming to agree.

"We think you got a squeaky wheel, Ray." Dominick was almost certain of that fact.

The younger man's lip curled in amusement. "Mob speak always tickles me. You're indicating there's a rat in my midst?"

"If these deals were killed in their infancy and then the product followed once you managed to seal one, there's got to be someone divulging information from the inside." Sammy Black insisted with a grave nod.

"If by some miracle it's not a hole in your boat causing this theft then we're all going to have a bigger problem on our hands. Genovese shipping operations can't be compromised, if we can help, we should." Little Larry Dentico saw through to where this issue could become a problem for the family and readily leapt in to advise Zito.

Raymond could tell he had garnered their collective interest. "I don't have a single lead on this other than the general area of where the shipment disappeared while en route to my warehouse in Brooklyn. None of the paperwork is askew, none of my employees seem to know what went wrong. All I have is the location."

"What about the courier?" Asked Joseph in a deep, graveled baritone.

"Gone, along with the shipment." Raymond divulged, "The courier's not a suspect anymore because his was the body fished out of the water in Jersey City this morning."

The information had come to Raymond in the drive over to the Genovese's headquarters, registering as little more than a drop in the enigmatic bucket that was this heist.

The mafiosi murmured quietly to each other in low, rumbling Italian, discussing whether they could or should lend assistance. The debate didn't take long,

"We're happy to help, Ray, for everything you've done for the family in the past. That being said, you know we're gonna need Vinny's approval first."

Raymond's expression lit with a delighted grin, though his gut roiled in impatience. "I take it I'll be making a quick trip to Rikers, then?"

78th Street Safehouse - Upper West Side, Manhattan

Kate Kaplan peered through the apartment's peep hole at the sound of a polite knock.

Raymond's business partner stood on the other side, waiting patiently. She was dressed in a fine gossamer dress in a pale beige, a gold metal belt nipping the garment inward at her waist. The diaphanous material was light and airy, perfect for keeping cool on a blistering summer's day.

Kate's lips purse disapprovingly at the sight of the woman. Kaplan was almost certain her employer was bedding the shapely young thing, and the cleaner found the very idea more than a little inappropriate. Rosalie was a good ten years the man's junior, but more so, she was inexperienced in just how dark Raymond's world could be. Kate couldn't fathom what the two could possibly expect from each other, other than a messy split once the young woman got too close for the man's comfort.

Kaplan had grown fond of Raymond these past few years, but she also knew the man was a bit of a hound when it came to women. Carla and Katarina were ample evidence of the fact, without even beginning to dredge up the array of women Red had chased in the two years Kate had been working for him.

The elder woman just couldn't see this business ending well, and what was more unnerving for Kate was the seemingly endless struggle to unearth the younger woman's motives. The Øllegaard girl definitely wasn't a gold digger, she was wielding an empire nearly as expansive as Reddington's, so she certainly wasn't hurting for money. To Kate's knowledge, the woman wasn't power-hungry either, which begged the question, what did she want, and how would being involved with Raymond help her get it?

Kate had no answers, and thus had not raised any concerns with her employer regarding his expected involvement with the innkeeper. The only thing Kaplan could do was watch and wait, which would be much easier to do now that Raymond wanted her moving along with them.

The cleaner could only hope Rosalie Øllegaard would not become a distraction in Raymond's quest to protect Masha. Katarina's daughter needed to remain first and foremost in the man's mind.

Kate opened the apartment door, answering with a terse, "Hello."

The young innkeeper peered thoughtfully at the woman who had chased her across several South American countries a mere year ago. The thought brought a nostalgic smile to her face, which was immediately squashed by Kaplan's suspicious glower. "Raymond wished for me to meet with you to discuss your moving with us from now on, do you have a moment?"

The woman stepped to the side with a sardonic sweeping gesture. "I was informed as much, come in."

Rosalie hadn't had many interactions with Raymond's cleaner, but what little she gathered from the woman indicated one lone truth.

Kate Kaplan did not like her, not one bit.

The young woman wasn't distraught over this development, as she had spent very little time in the woman's company up until now. She supposed she was simply going to have to get used to her rather frigid presence and curt manner of speech.

The idealist in Rosalie chimed that she and Kate would get along swimmingly, once they got to know each other; however, the realist in her debated the older woman was as likely to become her friend as Raymond was to become celibate. The very thought made the young woman's lips twitch in amusement.

Kaplan maintained her disapproving stare as they settled at the polished table in the home's quaint French farmhouse kitchen. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely," Rosalie nodded, pushing aside her misgivings and delving into the task at hand. "Since you are going to be moving around with us, I thought I should give you an overview of what my network does for its clientele."

The older woman did not question, merely waved for the innkeeper to continue.

"Right, well, the nice thing about living in my network is your day to day needs are catered to, in their entirety. This means everything from groceries, laundry service, linens, toiletries, unregistered firearms, bug-out bags, hand grenades, you know, all those pesky little things that make a house a home."

Rosalie beamed at Kate, who made no response to her joke other than a spare nostril flare.

The younger woman chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment before continuing. "When I say the network caters to your everyday needs, I don't mean it provides you with run-of-the-mill accoutrements. Your every preference will be met, exactly as you wish, which is why I'm here. I need to assemble the necessary information in order for my team to start building a list and standing order of staples for your box, which will travel ahead of you to each location. This negates the need for excessive luggage and random store runs, which in turn keeps the likelihood of my safehouses being discovered very low."

"Box?" Kate questioned, not understanding what the woman was referring to.

"Oh, yes," nodded Rosalie, "Each of my top tier clients has a box or crate pertaining solely to their needs and preferences. My property managers prepare every safehouse for every client before their arrival, and during that time the boxes related to said client are assembled in an offsite storage facility, brought to the location in question, and unpacked, ensuring everything required for their stay is waiting when they reach the safehouse."

Kaplan nodded her understanding, settling back into her chair. "Where should I start?"

Rosalie smiled brightly, "…How about the kitchen?"

The cleaner and the innkeeper hammered out the details of Kate's needs over the next couple of hours, dipping into every possible need the woman could have whilst on the run with Raymond.

As the pair were winding down the last of Kate's requirements, a boisterous voice could be heard all but yelling in the foyer.

"I'm telling you, Baz, I'm too old for this sightseeing crap. It's hotter than a fur coat in Marfa out there and the streets, my God, they're filthy, and there's too many tourists, and my back hurts. Between my arthritis and my bursitis, I can't take it!"

Ted Brimley shuffled into the bright kitchen with an indulgently smiling Baz in tow. Both men were carrying white bags bearing the scent of something greasy from a local food cart. The older man halted his diatribe upon seeing Rosalie, holding up his treasure with a broad grin. "Chili dogs!" He bellowed, making the young woman nearly snort with laughter.

Baz beamed conspiratorially at the innkeeper, catching her deeply amused glance. "How's it going, Rosie?"

Rosalie stood to embrace each man in turn, truthfully pleased to see them both. "Other than this ungodly hot spell, I'm just peachy," she teased, "and yourself?"

"Can't complain," the bodyguard chuckled, subtly tilting his head at Brimley, who was more than happy to complain at length to anyone who would listen.

The young innkeeper narrowed her eyes playfully at Raymond's head of security as Ted nearly took up his tirade again. "I'm glad to see you're enjoying the local fare, Ted!" The woman raised her voice a touch so the man could hear her, effectively diverting his attention to something other than the abysmal weather.

SoHo Safehouse

It was early evening by the time all parties had returned to the safehouse.

The wretched humidity had damn near soaked Red through, persuading the disgruntled man to change shirts once he arrived. As such, Rosalie found him re-dressing upon entering their bedroom.

She placed her firearm on the console table near the door, stretching the tightness from the small of her back. "Where are you off to so soon?"

Raymond did not meet her questioning gaze as he finished buttoning his shirt. "I need to meet with the boss of the Genovese crime family in order to secure their help."

Rosalie stepped in front of him, picking up the abandoned tie and looping it around his neck. "I thought that's what you were doing this morning?"

The man shook his head, his brooding eyes softening a touch as she adjusted the length of silk to fit. "I met with the underbosses, the consigliere, and the acting boss this morning, but they won't make a move without consulting the don and I need his reach to figure out where my shipment wandered off to and who was responsible for the theft."

"Can I help?" She asked, tying a neat Windsor knot before turning down his collar. "My criminal upbringing was similar to the mafia. Corsicans are big into family, they have mutual respect, and I do remember Florian talking about the Genovese in the past."

Raymond considered her for a moment, "I don't see why you couldn't come along, as long as Ted comes with you." The man's sharp green eyes caressed her as he picked up her discarded firearm. "Besides, if the boss isn't feeling particularly generous, a beautiful mobster's daughter might go a long way toward swaying him to my side of the isle."

Rosalie let out a tinkling laugh, a soft blush illuminating her cheeks. "Who's the boss?"

"I'm the boss." Red growled, pulling her roughly to him and holstering the firearm at the small of her back.

A sweet feminine squeak fell from her lips as she was tugged into his all-encompassing sphere, making Raymond give a husky growl of arousal.

"Have I told you how much I like this side of you?" Rosalie breathed excitedly, completely open to the man's instigating.

Ted poked his head into the room with an apologetic grimace, "Sorry to interrupt, but Kaplan just arrived saying your boat is ready at the pier?"

"A boat?" Rosalie wondered aloud, "Where exactly are we headed?"

Raymond gave Ted a short nod, indicating they would be out shortly. He turned back to the woman with an excitable expression. "We're going to meet Vincent "The Chin" Gigante. He's had several aliases, you know how the mafia love their nicknames. Personally, I loved "The Enigma in the Bathrobe", though, I only ever called him Vinny."

Raymond pulled a faded photograph from the lid of his open suitcase. The picture showed a slightly younger Raymond Reddington standing between two obvious mob members. He pointed to the tall, bulky man on the left. "Vinny has been the Genovese crime boss since the 80's, He feigned insanity for years to stay out of jail, but they finally caught up to him two years ago, hence his difficulty in meeting."

Rosalie smiled at the photograph, wondering just how much mischief Raymond had to have gotten into with the crime boss and his compatriot for the man to have kept this particular photo all this time.

"Vinny has been running the Genovese family from the inside. He's footed a couple bribes to give himself time to meet with me at the edge of the prison fence."

"If he's been in prison, how is he still running the family?" Rosalie asked, handing back the polaroid.

"Vis a vis his son, Andrew, who is meeting us outside Rikers. Thus the need for my boat."

Rosalie turned, appalled the man would even consider going to the island prison. "Raymond you're on the FBI's most wanted list, you can't be serious. They'll arrest you without a thought!"

Her counterpart sniggered merrily, shaking his head and beaming for her concern. "It's highly unlikely. Besides, I'm not going inside the place. Just on it."

His tone assured her there was nothing to fear in making the trip. His cavalier attitude gave her pause to consider why he would feel so calm setting foot there.

"The guards at Rikers are more crooked than a back road, aren't they?" Rosalie sighed, realizing what must have him so amused.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Raymond agreed, tucking a large wad of unmarked bills into his suit pocket. "They're easily bribed, and with both Vinny and myself footing the bill for a little privacy, I can assure you the plan is quite safe."

Rosalie nodded, still a little nervous for their safety.

"My business has the propensity to be a bit more…rough and tumble than yours. Are you sure you're up for this?" Red's expression was reassuring, her decision wouldn't bother him either way.

Rosalie nodded eagerly. She had certainly known Raymond's business was occasionally of a more dangerous nature, she had been with him through the whole issue in Munich after all, and the ordeal with the associate he'd lost in June. It was simply counter-intuitive for any criminal to willingly go near a correctional facility of any kind. "No, I definitely want to go."

"Okay, you'll stay with Ted, Kate, and Baz. Toddrick, and Wallace are also coming along, they'll flank us, so we'll be protected on all sides."

Rosalie gave an excitable smirk. "Oh, good!" she chimed, "Todd and Wally, Wally and Todd, I enjoy those two."

Raymond shook his head for her mood, Toddrick and Wallace were a pair of bouncers Raymond had picked up over a long stint in Los Angeles. The ex-navy officers made exemplary bodyguards, and were usually Red's top choice when it came to extra hands.

Rosalie had met the duo in passing twice, once in Vancouver and again in Mexico City. The guards had enjoyed the young innkeeper's quick wit, and she had taken a shine to them both almost immediately, taking it in turns to give them each a good ribbing whenever she saw them.

Thinking he was in for a boisterous evening, Red ushered Rosalie out into the living area so their group could finalize their plan and get moving before dusk settled.

The "boat" Raymond had docked on the Hudson was more akin to a floating house, making Rosalie wonder how on earth they wouldn't be caught on this detour to Rikers Island. Even so, she spent the better part of the ride wandering about the vessel's interior, eagerly exploring the lavish accommodations.

Red smirked knowingly as the woman examined her surroundings. He could tell the yacht was a bit more boat than she had imagined, and the man made a mental note to take her for a spin sometime, just the two of them, so the woman could really see what she was made of.

The trip took a little under an hour going perfectly within the speed limit. At least the captain knew not to draw too much attention to themselves. Once the boat docked quite carelessly on the island's main slip, the fugitives and their security detail made for the gate leading off of the docks.

The guard keeping watch cast a suspicious glance at Reddington, who slipped the wad of crisp $100 bills beneath the window. The officer's eyebrows rose, he took the cash, swept a furtive glance around the area before opening the gates. "You've got thirty minutes."

Raymond nodded his understanding, striding through the open entry and heading for the sprawling fence on the right side, where three men could be seen walking the perimeter.

"Vinny!" Red beamed at the old mafia boss, flanked by two mafiosi in similar prison outfit. The don's stride was smooth and measured, unhurried as he came up to the prison fence. He still held an air of power and sharpness to him, though the short stubble speckling his chin and cheeks was tinted a snowy white and the skin around his eyes was wrinkled with age.

"Mon apologia," He grunted, "Sorry for the runaround, Red. With Tony Salerno in prison, and Dominick having that goddamn heart attack I've had to find me another front boss, business is moving painfully slow."

"I understand the circumstances, and appreciate your willingness to meet. How is the U.S. Justice System treating you?"

"Mary and Joseph, they're moving me to the goddamn hospital in Springfield of all places." Vinny rolled his eyes gesturing carelessly toward one of the guard towers, silently indicating who 'they' were.

"Well at least you'll be reunited with a few old friends." Raymond reasoned with a placating grimace.

Vin shrugged his shoulders, thinking of the host of other mafia underbosses and consiglieri in Springfield due to Sammy "The Bull" Gravano's testimony against John Gotti. "Fat lot of good they'll do me now," he groused before catching sight of Raymond's blonde companion. The fellow's demeanor brightened a little.

"Well, well, I know you." He flashed dark brooding eyes at Rosalie, his tone sly, "You're Florian Armel's little hell raiser."

Both Raymond and Rosalie gaped at the mob boss. Their security detail and Kate all turned questioningly toward the innkeeper.

"I did a fair bit of business with the Corsicans when I was outside." Vinny explained with a wave of his hand, "Good people, got the right priorities."

Rosalie smiled genially at the elderly man, stepping out from their little band of criminals. "Florian manda i suoi saluti."

Vin's white eyebrows quirked upward at the phrase, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Non sapevo che i corsici insegnassero alle loro donne l'italiano?"

"There was a good-looking Sicilian boy among Florian's underbosses." Rosalie confided in a conspiratorial tone, "One of the Salerno boys, he taught me a few things."

The don roared with laughter, "You know the family then, Fat Tony's kids?"

"His nephew," Rosalie conceded, smiling at Raymond's confused expression. "I didn't realize I knew any of the parties involved until he mentioned Tony Salerno." She clarified, answering her counterpart's questioning gaze. "His nephew came up from Sicily a few years back to work with Florian, I knew him in passing."

Vinny peered knowingly at Reddington's taut visage, watching as the man slowly relaxed. "Not to worry, Red, Fat Tony's nephew's got nothing on you."

The young fugitive ran a hand sheepishly along the back of his short hair. "Yeah, you know me, I'm a real prince, Vinny."

The whole group sniggered, breaking some of the tension.

"I've heard you lost a bit of merchandise up the Hudson." The mob boss smirked, tucking his large hands in his trouser pockets.

Red's attention returned to the purpose of their meeting, "I have. I'm in need of information as to where the shipment was taken and whom is responsible for its departure." The Concierge of Crime watched the don's expression carefully, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep the tension from showing.

Vinny met his stare with his own, unblinking as he spoke. "Lucky for you, the responsible party was careless. My people ran the tags on the boat carrying your product and a contact with the Jewish Mafia traced it to an abandoned dock all the way up in Sleepy Hollow. It's now with a caporegime escort on its way to your warehouse down in Sunset Park."

Raymond's brows lifted in pleasant surprise, a sigh of relief escaping his chest. "That's very much appreciated, Vinny."

The old boss waved him off, "As much as you've assisted my family's movements over the past couple years, it was the least I could do." The man's expression turned dark, "Now, the real problem. Youse got a rat, Red."

Raymond nodded curtly, "Did your people manage to identify the thief?"

Vinny's head tilted, a commiserating sigh falling from his dry lips. "One of my capos identified him as Howie Bukowski."

The twitch of Red's right eye was the only movement he made acknowledging the name.

Howard Bukowski was a foreman for Reddington, working a great deal of the man's shipping processes in New York. He had been a loyal associate for six years, up until this point.

Vinny's expression was placating, "You know the Mafia, Red, we don't agree with eating alone… I have guys looking to make their bones who would be happy to take care of this disrespectful bastardo for you, cement shoes and all that."

Raymond fought a darkly amused chuckle at the suggestion. "I'm grateful for the offer, Vinny, but I'm old fashioned. I clean my own house."

Vincent nodded his head thoughtfully, "Cosa Nostra," he murmured, "I always liked that about you, Red. My people will keep their eyes peeled for this Bukowski character. If he comes across our path, we'll hold him for you."

"Thank you, Vinny."

Vinny Gigante flashed a rare smile, nodding his head to both Raymond and his counterpart. "Anytime, Red, anytime."

"'Fat Tony' Salerno's nephew taught you Italian?" Raymond asked once they were back aboard the boat, his tone riddled with amusement. He simply couldn't withhold the question any longer, the curiosity was eating him alive.

Kate and their security settled in the lounge as the engine started, drowning out the pair's conversation.

Rosalie pinched the bridge of her nose, "It was three, maybe four years ago, but yes, he did... Among other things." She peered sheepishly at him, trying to hide her mild embarrassment over the matter.

Raymond shook his head in mock disappointment, "Of all the things, Ms. Øllegaard. Whatever did Florian have to say?"

The woman's eyes went wide, "Florian doesn't know a thing," she hissed, "and it better damn well stay that way, Raymond Reddington."

The man smirked, looking forward to taunting her with this newfound information for a while yet.

"Or should I say… Red?" Rosalie countered, having never heard anyone refer to him by that nickname before.

"It's an old nickname." Raymond defended, shaking his head at her equally triumphant smirk.

"It might actually be better than 'the Concierge of Crime'," Rosalie murmured to herself, not meeting his eyes. "Raymond "Red" Reddington."

The man's eyes bored into her, surprise written clearly in their depths. He watched the woman worry her bottom lip, the Manhattan high rises glittering in the large window behind her. "Really?" He snorted, incredulity coloring the question. "That nickname does it for you?"

Rosalie turned, batting her eyelashes bashfully up at her lover, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. "Yeah."

Her gray eyes turned to saucers at her own brevity and the husky catch in her throat. "I mean… It's simple, it's tough-sounding, it's…" She cleared her throat and primly smoothed the hem of her skirt, "It's kind of, well, hot, if you ask me."

The woman didn't dare meet her lover's gaze, knowing full well he was wearing that predatory smile which always threatened to swallow her whole.

As the boat began chugging back down the East River, Raymond decided to get a start on this issue with Howard Bukowski. The foreman would soon realize he was a marked man, as such, there was a finite window to catch him before he skipped town. Getting to him before he left Manhattan was crucial, and Red needed to call in a number of favors to cut off Howard's exit strategy.

With this in mind, Raymond reluctantly headed for the secluded office below deck, leaving Rosalie to be entertained by the antics of Baz, Toddrick, and Wallace, burly comedians for hire.

The fugitive could feel the stress and anxiousness closing in on him with each step toward his office.

Much to his surprise, Rosalie came scurrying into the room shortly before Red closed the door. He lifted a confused glance, silently questioning why she wasn't upstairs with the rest of their group.

The woman had felt the palpable tension encroaching upon him upstairs, brought about by the unearthing of who betrayed the man's trust. Raymond was seething as he left for the solitude of his office, determined to quietly assuage his fury.

The man shut the door to the room with a snap, locking Rosalie in with him.

"Do you need to deal with Howard right this second?" The woman's voice held a studied nonchalance which piqued Raymond's curiosity.

"Not right this second, no, but certainly within the next hour or so." He watched her like a hawk, noticing the small flush on her cheeks and the smooth swish of her hips as she casually paced before the heavy desk.

"Why?"

The blonde stopped in her tracks, batting those long lashes up at him. The dark call of her heated gaze more than enticed the man before her. "I promised you something special, if I recall correctly, and you seem... awfully tense."

What a decadent turn of events.

Red hadn't expected her to approach him about said promise until they were well within the confines of their bedroom. But this...oh now this prospect was truly special.

Rosalie flashed him a small, coy smile, pleased to see he was very much intrigued by the idea.

"You know what I would really, really enjoy?" Raymond purred, prowling toward the curvaceous little figure perched in front of his desk.

Rosalie held his wolfish stare with her own sweet, beguiling one. "Tell me."

"I would love nothing more than to take you hard and fast, right here." He growled, tapping two thick fingers on the shining desktop behind her, "It's been a long-standing fantasy of mine. I've spent months plotting how to get you into this very predicament."

Rosalie grinned, turning slowly and fanning her palms out onto the heavy leather blotter covering most of the desk's face.

"Well, darling, I'm quite content to fulfill that fantasy." Her thighs spread sensually for the benefit of the hot-blooded male behind her, the skirt of her dress hiking just a hair, showing another inch of silky thigh.

"God damn," Raymond swore reverently, checking to ensure the door was locked before closing the distance between them.

The man pressed the length of his cloth-covered erection against her firm backside, and Rosalie arched into his touch, the movement hiking that damn hem just a little more.

Enthralled by her incentive, the man placed his hands on the backs of her thighs, easing them painfully slowly up the heated flesh, lifting the soft, diaphanous material of her dress and allowing it to pool around her narrow waist.

Red's mouth went bone dry as he found her perfectly bare beneath her skirt. It was an uncommon occasion, to see the woman without garter straps or nylons of any kind. It seemed the insufferable heat had caused the woman to forgo undergarments entirely.

He could tell by the stiff peaks straining against the thin material of her dress that she wasn't wearing a bra either. The knowledge sent a painful pulse of arousal to the man's already aching cock.

He unzipped her dress, thrilling in the confirmation of her complete lack of lingerie.

The woman rose so the garment slid down her shoulders, then pulled her slender arms from the sleeves and allowed the remaining material to pool at her waist with the lower half of her dress.

Raymond's hands surged forward to cup her breasts, bringing her torso flush against his as he pinched and rolled the excited nipples he found waiting for him.

"Little dove," he choked, "You seem to have misplaced certain essential attire."

"I'd check your jacket pocket, if I were you." She cooed, wiggling her pert little ass against him in open enticement.

Raymond immediately patted the front of his jacket, feeling the soft outline of a bit of fabric in one of the many pockets.

The man had thought the panties she donned that morning were white, but as he hooked a finger around the lacy item in his pocket, he was proven wrong. The small scrap of silk and lace was in fact an incredibly pale pink. As somewhat of a connoisseur of this woman's delicates, the man knew this was a rare color choice for her. The lacy straps had cradled her ample bottom beautifully, framing the smooth globes in a delicate, feminine curve.

"Christ…" Red swallowed, working to assemble a coherent sentence. "How did you get these in there?"

Rosalie grinned slyly, "While you were changing shirts at the safehouse."

The man chuckled his approval, tucking his prize back in his jacket pocket. "You've been running around my boat bare as a dream all this time?"

The little blonde head nodded wickedly.

"You are an unmitigated," Red traced the tip of his nose along Rosalie's jawline, "clever," he pressed his warm lips to the sensitive shell of her ear, "filthy little delight, aren't you?"

Rosalie gasped and squirmed against him, trying to persuade the felon to her way of thinking.

"Shit." He kneaded the taut globes of her backside, satiating some of his rapacious need.

The man didn't hesitate to tear off his tie and pitch his jacket and waistcoat on the chair beside him.

"Tell me you have a condom." He husked, disengaging the buttons on his shirt, only to realize he had come to the party unprepared.

"Jacket pocket," Rosalie giggled in a sing-song voice, rising up onto her tiptoes and leaning further forward on the desk.

Raymond looked hopefully at her amused face, reaching one hand back into his jacket pocket, slipping through the soft silk of her panties and finding the square in question.

"Thank God." He breathed an emphatic sigh of relief, immediately dropping his pants, tearing open the packaging and donning the condom as quickly as possible.

Rosalie arched into his outstretched hand, spreading her legs wide in anticipation.

Raymond lined himself up with her drenched core and slid home in one long, smooth stroke.

"Holy shit," Red swore, his body rejoicing at being reunited with its hot, wet playmate.

A feminine squeal of delight leapt from Rosalie's mouth as he forcefully bottomed out, pinning her bent frame to the heavy desk beneath them.

"Oh my God, that's good."

The sultry little purr brought a smile to Raymond's mouth. He kept his thrusts nice and deep inside the slick warmth, slamming himself into its welcoming grasp at a bruising pace.

Their pent-up arousal and undeniable stress-induced tension made their coupling all the more pleasurable.

Raymond's thick shaft continued to plunge into Rosalie's giving sex at a breakneck speed, releasing those emotions which had been gnawing at him all day.

The woman delighted in his wanton enjoyment of this little idiosyncrasy. She readily arched into each thrust, pushing back into his forward momentum, driving his rock hard head deeper and deeper inside her.

Red snarled at the lustful movements, thrilling in how she sought him. He was having the time of his life, buried to the hilt in his beautiful lover, who was eager to give him the rough, passionate fucking he desired.

"This room is soundproof." He divulged, pulling the woman back by her long hair and bringing her flush and upright against him. He had seen her damn near biting her bottom lip through in the attempt to stifle her delectable moans.

"I can coax all my favorite noises from you without anyone being the wiser."

The man felt her sex start to ripple, the delicious pang of pleasure coiling tightly in her belly as he stroked her sensitive core endlessly.

She was going to come for him.

Red cupped her cheek, keeping her mouth within reach of his own. Her lips trembled against his, the petal soft skin brushing tantalizingly against his own.

"What has you trembling, honey, hmm?"

"Right. There." She panted, gripping the back of his neck, her nails scraping his scalp, making shivers erupt along his powerful frame.

Her lover continued without breaking his rhythm, slamming his hips forward, rough, demanding, rocking her small frame with his force.

"Little dove, I have needed you all damn day." He confessed, easing her back to the bent position over his desk. His hips never ceased their pistoning movements, driving her further and further into a pleasure-induced delirium.

Her feet, still clad in her leather pumps lifted from the floor as her knees bent. Her back bowed taut as the precarious razor's edge of her ecstasy held her in the tense position.

"Oh, Fuck R-" Rosalie's breath forcibly hitched in a way which made Raymond climb the walls, sending him into a litany of low, graveled pleas to his lover.

"Come on, honey, say it for me. Use those lovely lips and purr that new word you've learned. I can't deny I've been dying to know what it would sound like coming from your beautiful mouth at a moment like this."

Rosalie's eyes were black with lust, her pupils blown wide as she took in the man's request.

Ecstasy slammed in on her from all sides without warning, forcing the word from her lips without another thought.

"Red!"

Rosalie cried out loudly, a carnal, husky sound which left her entire frame buckled with exhaustion. Her pussy clenched tight with her release, the blinding heat and quivering embrace pulling Raymond under with her.

The man couldn't deny the effect she had on him as that name uttered in that perfect feminine cry tore him over the edge. His towering form arched as he was gripped and massaged by the overwhelming heat.

His body gave in to her coaxing without a prayer of holding back, his hips snapping forward at an almost inhuman pace, drawing forth heavy streams of his orgasm from deep within his groin.

A carnal, snarling exclamation hurtled from the man's throat as the peak overcame him, leaving him on a completely new plane of euphoria.

The pair shook with pleasure, slowing their movements to a smooth, tandem rocking motion as the ripples and spasm of their spent muscles slowed to sporadic aftershocks.

Rosalie's fingertips were splayed wide on the desk's face, her lungs pulling in heaving gasps against the smooth leather of the blotter.

Raymond had pitched forward, covering her shapely figure with his broad, comforting warmth. His shuddering breaths ghosted over her neck and ears, the sound obscenely erotic despite the woman's completely satiated state.

"There are no words..." Red rasped once he was able to speak. He threaded his fingers with Rosalie's, bending to place a soothing kiss to her earlobe.

"I have no words which can express how much I thoroughly enjoy your particular brand of stress management, my dear."

To Be Continued...