Lazuli Safehouse - Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago - June 28th, 1999
Rosalie stood in the lounge of her high-rise in Port of Spain with her back to the seating area. The slate eyes scowled at the opposite wall, determined to make sense of the jumbled puzzle before her.
A room divider made of glass panels and dark metal was being utilized for her musings; its surfaces now held a timeline of surveillance photos, receipts, and various other scraps of information.
Reddington had lost another associate in June, and though the loss was a lesser blow than Patrick, it had still rattled their quartet.
The assassin was quickly tracked down and disposed of, citing the same tale Altan had in Munich. As Brimley had put it, the transaction was cleaner than Mrs. Howzer's blackboard on a Monday morning.
The lack of headway on the perpetrator had Raymond seething for the past two weeks.
Rosalie, determined to find the hole in their boat, had taken their stockpile of intel and sequestered herself in the lounge.
In the almost eleven months since their partnership began, she had lost four homes in four rather prominent locations.
The safehouse in Havana and the condo in São Paulo had been disposed of, she also sold the safehouse Altan had chartered in Munich as well as the Liberty safehouse in D.C. for the sake of caution. Though São Paulo was replaced before the end of last year and Munich followed shortly thereafter, the blacksite in Havana was still under construction, and D.C. had just sold in a black market sale.
Three of the four homes were burnt due to their unseen adversary.
Replacing homes was an expensive and time-consuming endeavour which Rosalie admitted she did not enjoy. In actuality, it was one of the most risky aspects of her business.
Her organization's initial contact with the sellers of these locations was the only time in which Rosalie could be linked to the property. It was paramount to her safety and the well-being of the network that this connection never see the light of day. For this, the young woman trusted in her accountant, Luli Zeng.
Rosalie's faith in Luli was unshakeable.
They had met in college several years ago and had grown quite close, having shared a dorm room and eventually an apartment in the four years they had spent at Stanford. They were cut from the same cloth in many ways, and over the years Rosalie grew to consider the woman her nearest and dearest friend.
Luli had taken the traditional finance route, and was succeeding at every turn in her position with SAL Capital. However, she had confessed a few years prior that she found the work lacklustre. Luli knew what her old friend was up to, and propositioned her as a shadow financier.
Rosalie took her up on the offer immediately, confident the woman would be a trustworthy and invaluable asset.
Luli succeeded in building a maze of shell corporations around Rosalie's empire, a protective financial barrier that made Rosalie's movements impossible to track.
This left Rosalie free to focus on accumulating locations for the network, as well as garnering a web of loyal associates and clients to keep the show running. The system was fine-tuned and fortified over the past four years. Rosalie structured the network in a way which could function from the shadows in perpetuity, barring any unprecedented massacres.
The young woman made a mental note to call her friend that night. She was certain Lu was not the issue, but she might have knowledge of potential weak spots.
Raymond stepped into the room, watching the frustrated woman scowl at the photographs. Her arms were crossed, and she tapped the end of a pen irritably against her lips as her mind whirred in the background.
"I'm missing something." She grumbled, noticing the man's presence. "We're missing something, I can feel it."
He tried to soothe her frustrations, "Rosalie, I keep a running tally of every person I've ever swindled, every player whose boat I've rocked, everyone I've ever wronged. Not one of them looks to be the one responsible."
"How can you be sure?" She sighed, tilting her head to see if the information made more sense when viewed at an angle.
Red stared fixedly at the board. "My people always follow through." He intoned evasively.
The young woman turned to look at him, understanding the truth behind the phrase. "You're having them watched? All of them?"
He nodded minutely. "My enemies, their families, their friends, I know their each and every move. It's been critical to my success."
"And none of them have drawn suspicion?" She asked, a modicum of disbelief creeping into her voice.
The man sing-songed his head, "No more than usual."
"There must be something we're missing…"
Rosalie's mouth moved wordlessly as she muttered to herself, too focused on the board to finish her thought or meet Raymond's eyes.
If she had, she would have found a most peculiar look on his face.
Red had noticed Rosalie's restlessness these past few weeks. She was not used to bringing her criminal prowess to the fore and coming up empty handed.
Raymond understood now, she was feeling just as attacked as he was.
"Perhaps it's not an enemy?" She continued, "Do any of your direct competitors have the ability or desire to challenge you in such a way?"
"Oh there's always the desire to challenge." Red shook his head, more than a few individuals coming to mind. "Unfortunately, there isn't a single one with the money or influence to keep this quiet."
"What do you mean?"
Raymond turned to meet her gaze. "It's easy to buy someone's head. It's even easier to purchase information. The test of a criminal empire like mine, like the one undoubtedly chasing us, is how well kept its secrets are. Its weak points, Rosalie. Those take money and influence to hide." They both grimaced at the photos of Patrick's crime scene. "Whomever is behind this has big secrets, a wealth of influence, and even deeper pockets."
A knock sounded at the entrance and the man heaved a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and prodding his tongue into his cheek.
Rosalie dropped her hand to squeeze his before calling for the individual to enter.
Dembe strode in with a burner held aloft. "Raymond, it's Stratos."
Red took the phone. "Yeah."
The suave voice of Stratos Sarantos, Raymond's head of Mediterranean shipping operations, echoed through the connection. "Raymond! I have good news."
"That makes one of us." Red groused, watching as Rosalie made a request of Dembe before turning back to the board and shifting some of the pieces about.
"Don't sound so sullen," Stratos advised his friend, "Your little rum-runner through Corfu worked like a charm. The shipment was early, the payment is in, and I scored us a little lagniappe ."
Raymond's mouth twitched reluctantly. "If it has anything to do with Vienna, you're on your own."
Rosalie sniggered indelicately, recalling the tale of Stratos and a devious young woman in Vienna. It involved his pants being unceremoniously chucked out of a 13th floor balcony.
Red smirked at the chortling woman, bumping his shoulder playfully against hers. "Rosalie might join you, though."
The woman turned a scandalized glance his way, actually garnering a deep chuckle from the grump.
"It has nothing to do with that Austrian wasp," Stratos defended staunchly, "And if you aren't careful I'll take your little innkeeper and Dembe, and leave you behind."
"And what a relaxing time I'd have." He retorted, "Stop stalling, what prize did you acquire?"
Red could hear the excitement in the other man's voice as he divulged the unexpected treat.
"I've got the front row for Siena, July 2nd."
"Siena?" Raymond questioned, the date and location ringing a bell.
" Il Palio di Siena ." Confirmed Stratos, utterly beside himself.
Red roared with laughter, "How the hell did you manage that?"
"It's why you hire me," the man shrugged, "If I don't meet your expectations, I exceed them."
Both men chuckled at this, the inflated statement not entirely untrue.
"Come to Siena, Raymond, bring Dembe and your little sousourada. We'll bet, we'll bribe, we'll make a week of it."
Red looked at the little woman fretting over the intel and felt his stomach flip. She was so tense, so restless, chasing their invisible foe. They could both use a break, and she would look stunning in the Piazza del Campo under a golden sun.
When her nervous grey eyes swivelled to meet his, Red made an executive decision. Rotating to stand in front of her, he cupped her face and pulled her close, nuzzling her nose and cheeks until she giggled openly.
"Raymond, I didn't realize you had company." Stratos intoned lewdly, hearing the feminine sound through the connection.
The young woman quirked mischievous brows at him as he ran a finger across her plump pink lips.
"I'm going to enjoy taking your money." Red growled brazenly, grinning as Rosalie kissed his thumb, her tongue sneaking out to flick its tip playfully. "And so is my little innkeeper."
" Oh-Ho? " Stratos boomed with laughter, completely unaware of the rapidly heating tension on the other end of the line. "I'll leave you to count your chickens with your cheeky associate. Dembe will have my address."
"We'll see you in a few hours." Red agreed, ending the call and chucking the phone onto the couch before invading the woman's sphere once more.
"I take it we're going to Italy?" She smirked in amusement, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to pull her close.
Raymond hummed pleasantly, stealing a heated kiss from her. It had been several days since he had been able to do so. His hot tongue took her mouth without preamble, teasing and stroking her till he heard a desperate little mew and felt Rosalie press tighter to him.
They had been sneaking moments like this since the week at Break Maiden. Every day, they attempted to find an increasingly elusive moment of privacy in which to scratch this particular itch. To add to their frustration, the past few safehouses had contained rather unhelpful layouts which had temporarily halted their late night wanderings.
The result was a pair of disgruntled criminals secretly engaging in heated necking sessions in every available corner of Rosalie's network.
They had crossed a line, they knew, but frankly neither one had the slightest desire to return to their pre-blacksite state.
Raymond pulled back with a smug smirk as the feminine features beamed coyly up at him.
"How would you like to come to the Palio?" He purred, already knowing what her answer would be.
"The Palio?" She gasped, "As in the bareback horse riding, bribery and lawlessness abound, Palio?"
Red chuckled, seeing her eyes alight with excitement. "The very same."
Rosalie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her excitement evident. Just as suddenly, her face fell. "Raymond I don't have a location in Siena."
His large hand stroked the small of her back fondly, her distraught tone amusing him. "Not to worry, my dear. We're staying with Stratos, he has a home overlooking the Piazza del Campo."
The woman looked at her counterpart with unbridled delight. She had always wanted to see the running of the Palio.
Red hungrily watched the emotions lighting her face before patting her backside playfully. "Go. Pack." He instructed. "We're going to be wheels up in 20."
The command garnered Rosalie's full attention, kindling the flame in her belly. The little woman didn't need to be told twice, though she thought she might thoroughly enjoy his methods of persuasion. She leaned forward, kissing him once more. Her teeth nipped his bottom lip playfully, eliciting a grunt from the man before she pulled away.
Red felt his mood improve significantly as he watched her flounce across the apartment.
Dembe stood in the doorway, an impish grin lit his features.
"Oh shut up." Raymond grumbled.
Red's Jet - Somewhere over Mauritania - June 28th, 1999
"They already know you're part of Raymond's syndicate, they've already come for you once."
They were relaxing on the jet, en route to Siena when Horace decided to breach the topic of Reddington with Rosalie.
Dembe was conveniently sleeping in the seat behind her and Red was talking at length with an associate on the other side of the plane.
"What are you on about?" The woman asked, not even glancing up from her book.
"Reddington's newfound adversaries. Whoever they are, they already know of you, they've already taken a swipe at you."
"The car accident, you mean?" Rosalie thought back to that day. Raymond had gone after the culprits with a terrible vengeance.
His associates located the impounded vehicle, salvaging any evidence they could from the car's interior. They were stonewalled, however, when the body of the driver went mysteriously missing from the city morgue.
It was then that they realized whomever had attacked Rosalie's detail was not from Castro's syndicate. The perpetrator worked for the same person who ordered the hit on Patrick and attacked them at the warehouse in Munich.
The knowledge had infuriated Raymond, though Rosalie seemed to be supremely unconcerned about the matter.
"Well, I'm a criminal." She reasoned, "This was bound to happen at some point."
"Exactly," agreed Horace, "You're already connected to him. Whether you're in a romantic relationship or not, you're being pursued for your connection."
"What are you trying to say, Horace?"
"My point is, if you're already on the enemy's radar, why bother denying the attraction?"
Rosalie stopped reading, her eyes snapping up, wide and fearful.
"I don't want to be a liability."
Horace chuckled, "I hate to burst your bubble, but you're already a liability."
The woman's expression was indignant.
"I know my opinion on the matter has been fluctuating." Her bodyguard conceded, threading his fingers together and twiddling his thumbs.
"You mean you've been waffling spectacularly." Rosalie corrected with a stern though amused look. Her friend's advice on the matter of Raymond Reddington had been anything but consistent of late.
Horace snorted indelicately, nodding his agreement. "Yes I have. Though, to my defence, every time I turn around you two are doing something that changes my perception of your connection."
"How so?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"The way you handled him in Munich. Your response to him, how you carried yourself at his side." The man's beetle black eyes narrowed at the wall, remembering those days quite clearly. "The night you were shot… I saw the way he held you, the look on his face. That wasn't a man holding a business associate he'd known for less than nine months."
A deafening silence met his words.
"Rosalie, you didn't see him come off the plane at the blacksite." He glanced meaningfully at her, "He was furious and worried, and he needed to know you were alright. The man all but sprinted into the house and stood leaning against the bathroom door listening to you sing because it told him you were okay."
Rosalie sat in stunned silence, having been unaware of all of this until now.
"You might not want to be a liability, you might not want to be someone that could be used against him, but Rosie, you're already there. He's already there."
The man added, "And don't even try to tell me you wouldn't do the same for him. I saw the way you looked at him when you stepped out of the shower."
"Wait, you were snooping?" Rosalie hissed incredulously.
Horace conveniently ignored the accusation. "You're both at risk, it's the nature of the world you live in. Why not be together and be happy?"
Her dark eyes turned toward Raymond, the phone still held securely to his ear. A smile tugged at his lips and he winked playfully at her, making her insides squirm.
The woman gave him a small smile and turned back to her guard.
"Horace, what if something goes wrong?" Rosalie voiced her fear, thinking of all the terrible things that could happen in a romantic relationship between two fugitives.
"Then the two of you will meet it when it does." He stated simply. "The way you've met every challenge so far. You are formidable together, better together. I've known you for years now and I have never seen you so…"
"What?"
"Fulfilled." He explained, "Partnering with Reddington, it's changed you. For the first time, I think you're content. You're no longer chasing after your empire, you're living in it. You're sitting back and allowing this absolute titan you've created work on its own. It's damn impressive, and it's made all the better by working alongside Reddington's syndicate. It's like you and your network were made for it."
Made for him .
Horace allowed the implication to hang in the air.
Rosalie sat in shock. She and Raymond had spent the better part of a year trying to deny everything that was going on between them.
Now, to suddenly have the foundation of her argument pulled unceremoniously out from under her terrified the woman. She knew why she had been fighting her emotions, and it now seemed like a moot point.
Raymond had repeatedly said he couldn't put her in danger by being with her, but she was already in danger.
She was already in his enemy's sights. What did their caution and attempted protection matter now? Would it not be better for them to allow their connection, to face the rising tide as a united front?
The smouldering grey eyes swivelled back to her business partner, her thoughts teeming with curiosity.
What would it be like, being Raymond Reddington's lover?
Red looked up, feeling the attention of the woman he was becoming so attuned to. He was caught behind a pair of liquid metal orbs that heatedly held his gaze. The look pulled his entire focus toward her, silencing the noisy jet instantaneously.
Raymond wondered what he had done to garner such an amorous glance. He felt his body responding in kind, urging him to pitch the phone and take the little siren somewhere more private. His fingers tightened around the communications device as he watched her cross her legs. The movement left her upper thigh exposed beneath the table. The skirt she wore had wriggled up, leaving Raymond to ogle the expanse of creamy soft skin bisected by a dark garter strap.
The man's pulse hammered, sending red hot blood pounding through his veins as his mind ran wild with fantasies involving the minx across from him.
Rosalie watched him intently, her every nerve ending thrummed in delight as her antics drew his ardour out into the open.
Stratos Sarantos's Villa - Piazza del Campo, Siena, Italy - June 29th, 1999
They landed in Siena in the early hours of the following morning. The sedan provided by Stratos picked them up from the dark tarmac and carried them swiftly to the safehouse connecting to the Piazza del Campo, where Stratos was waiting to welcome them. Stratos was a tall man, reasonably broad and filled to the brim with boyish charm. His dark hair and olive skin spoke of his Mediterranean heritage, giving him a loping grace not unlike Horace.
Raymond hugged the man, slapping his back fondly before gesturing to his plus one. Rosalie beamed genially as she stepped out of the vehicle, reaching out and embracing the debonair Greek like an old friend.
"Stratos," she cooed, her tone teasing, "I've heard so very many stories."
"Not a word of them true." Stratos insisted, stooping to kiss the woman's cheeks. "Unless they sing the praises of my dancing skills and my ability to woo beautiful women." He waggled his eyebrows tauntingly at Reddington who chuckled and shook his head.
"Hmm…" Rosalie's eyes carried good-naturedly down to the other man's shoes, "I don't recall any particular accolades regarding your footwork, but I believe there was a rather, shall we say, charming incident with an Austrian honeypot named Anja. Tell me, did you ever get your pants back?"
Raymond and Dembe snorted with laughter at her quip, remembering the incident quite clearly.
They had both claimed credit for the tall tale, taking great enjoyment in regaling it with minor embellishments to entertain and amuse the young woman.
Stratos roared in delight, "Oh, these two have been whispering terrible little lies in your ear, my dear. Come, we shall correct these silly notions." He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, walking her through the door and into the cool quiet of the apartment.
Red could hear Stratos's thick voice echoing in the foyer.
"Has anyone told you the story of Raymond getting bent over a $60,000 settee by Laurence Dechambou?"
The woman's eyes danced as she let out a tinkling laugh.
The amused little minx had the nerve to glance impishly back at Raymond, assuring him he would be explaining that little dalliance in vivid detail later.
The home was a bright, expansive apartment built in an old Tuscan fashion with a combination of stone and white-washed brick. The centuries-old beams took pride of place, vaulting the home's tall ceiling upward at a sharp angle. The enormous, arching windows overlooking the Piazza occupied most of the Northern wall and extended into the bedrooms as well.
Rosalie immediately fell in love with the place.
As she sat in the enormous window sill, watching the sun rise a luminous pink, the woman thought about her discussion with Horace. It had changed things for Rosalie, the woman realized with a jolt.
She was out of reasons to stay away from Raymond.
The thought was more than a little daunting. Truthfully, she didn't know how to proceed. Rosalie wasn't certain where the man stood, if he would agree with her change of opinion on the matter. Raymond had always intimated there were dangers lurking around him which he didn't want her exposed to, but Rosalie agreed with Horace, there was little to do about that now.
Would he see things in the same light? If so, what would that mean for them?
The woman's mind hurtled along, trying to find a path forward, completely unaware of the conversation occurring down the hall.
Dembe knocked on Raymond's door, stepping through when the older man opened it.
"There is something I believe you should know."
Red quirked an eyebrow at the young bodyguard, gesturing for him to sit. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Dembe assured, "Simply something I overheard."
Raymond's clever eyes bored into Dembe's soulful ones, seeming to look right through him. "I knew you weren't sleeping on the plane."
"I dozed for a while, but you know I don't sleep well in the air." Replied Dembe. "Regardless, I woke up to a most interesting conversation between Rosalie and Horace."
The fugitive straightened slightly at the mention of the woman. "And?" He asked.
"What do you feel in regards to her?"
"I, well…" Red hesitated, "Does it matter what I feel for her?"
"Yes." Stated Dembe pointedly. "It matters a great deal."
"Dembe, what did you find out?" The man redirected, not wanting to utter the truth aloud.
The young bodyguard waited patiently, not one to be misled by the Raymond's usual tactics.
"I am attracted to her, certainly," admitted Red, "I care for her, deeply, more than I probably should."
"Horace knows." the younger man disclosed, "He has for some time now. He is of the opinion Rosalie is already in danger by name and by reputation. Our enemies know of her and know she has a place in your syndicate."
This wasn't news to Raymond, the information had been bothering him ever since he learned who had attempted to take out Rosalie and her guards. "And?"
"Horace asked Rosalie why she was not pursuing you. The answer was illuminating."
"Are you going to illuminate me on her reasons?" Asked Red, dreading the answer.
"No." Said Dembe, stalwartly, "You are going to ask her yourself."
"Why on earth would I do that?" Raymond blurted, thinking it was the last thing he planned on doing.
"Because you need to hear it from her. You of all people need to hear those words from her. Her reason for denying your connection will mean much more, and I believe it just might change your opinion on the matter." Dembe smiled and stood, patting Raymond on the shoulder before striding quietly from the room.
Raymond stood, staring with brows furrowed in confusion as his guard left him with that enigmatic statement.
Their group ventured out a few hours later for the beginning of the Palio festivities. The Palio itself wouldn't be run for another three days, but the horses would be chosen and assigned to their respective contrade that morning.
They lined up in their seats after breakfast to watch the "tratta", the trials which would determine which horses were allowed to run.
Rosalie watched in fascination as heat after heat of trial runs were made with horses of every color taking to the track. She listened intently as Stratos explained the finer nuances of the race with periodic input from Dembe and Raymond. The Palio was a terribly interesting concept, the corruption and boisterous antics that lingered behind the event made the whole affair a point of intrigue for their little band of criminals.
As the captains of the contrada arrived to select which ten horses would race, a friend of Stratos came lumbering exuberantly toward them. The boyish, portly man boomed at him in greeting.
"Stratos! You came, my friend!"
Stratos stood and embraced the bellowing Sienese man, carrying on in animated Italian.
The men turned toward the rest of the group, laughing and shouting raucously. "Everyone, this is my dear friend Jacopo Marangoni! Jacopo, this is Raymond Reddington, his business partner Rosalie Øllegaard, Red's associate Dembe Zuma, and Rosalie's associate, Horace Asim Jabare."
Jacopo made his rounds through the group, fretting them fondly and making sure to kiss the young woman's cheeks twice.
Rosalie looked like a little bohemian in her long, flowing sundress and Panama hat with its sharp black band. The dress had a deep split in one side, allowing Red an unrivaled view of her legs as she stood chatting in lilting Italian with Jacopo.
The man roared his delight, the rotund figure wobbling merrily as he listened to the little slip of a woman.
As it turned out, Stratos's apartment was part of La Contrada Dell'Onda, of which Jacopo was the captain. It was Jacopo's role to see to the victory of his contrada or the failure of their rival, whichever he could manage.
"Oh, I love your contrada." Rosalie smiled, patting his arm, "The color of the sky and the strength of the sea ." She quoted affectionately.
The wily old Sienese took to the woman like a honeybee to a wildflower.
"But of course, La Contrada Capitana Dell'Onda attracts the beautiful women, they wear our colours and stand like blossoming beauties in the stands, cheering our horse to victory!" Jacopo's large, calloused hand reached out to pinch Rosalie's cheek fondly.
Stratos shook his head at the man's antics. "Jacopo, I thought Onda wasn't running in this race?"
"We are not." Agreed Jacopo, leaning into the center of the group. "We're not here to race, we're here to fuck with our enemies."
The members of Jacopo's contrada cheered loudly, the rest of the group sniggered at his conviction and vulgarity.
Jacopo turned back to Rosalie, taking her hand and sitting in the front row. "Come my little dolcezza, I will tell you all there is to know about Il Palio ."
The afternoon passed in an enjoyable fashion.
Jacopo and his lieutenants from Onda were a loud but friendly crowd. There were many other people flitting in and out of their group, several business acquaintances in particular came to say hello and chat with Raymond as the day went on.
The man sat looking suave and carefree a little ways down the row from Rosalie. She glanced at him periodically, his relaxed yet powerful posture proving to be a distraction.
There weren't as many people in the stands, so he sat with one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on one elbow with his fingers thread together comfortably. The lightweight suit he wore was a pale beige, he had forgone the jacket and tie, leaving the first few buttons of his crisp white shirt popped. His sleeves were rolled up, giving him somewhat of a reprieve from the summer's heat. The brim of his fedora was pulled low, providing extra shade as he watched the contrade draw lots for their horses.
Rosalie had difficulty prying her eyes from his masculine form. The strong arms, with their dusting of light blonde hair had her mind wandering, recalling what it felt like to have them wrapped around her. She swore if she concentrated she could recall the feel of Red's heavy watch brushing against the small of her back. She wasn't sure if it was the heat or perhaps her libido, but Rosalie found the man looked more devilishly charming than usual.
As the day's festivities ended and the group headed for the cool sanctuary of the villa, Rosalie watched in fascination as the swarms of people parted when Red walked past. The man positively swaggered, never halting his smooth stride as they made their way through the streets. He turned back to her, winking fondly as Stratos, Horace, and Dembe carried on about the trials. Raymond moved to the side, making space between himself and Stratos so Rosalie could walk beside him.
Red kept his hand on the small of her back the entire way, guiding her gently through the home's large door upon their arrival.
They all separated for a small reprieve before dinner. The heat of the day had been exhausting.
Rosalie kicked off her sandals and lay sprawled on the bed, her ankles crossed and her feet resting atop the headboard. She decided to call Luli and discuss the work issues which had been plaguing her.
They had been talking for a while when Rosalie heard footsteps outside her room. She turned her head to see Raymond sliding quietly inside, closing the door behind him. The action made Rosalie smile softly, and the man met her eyes with a similarly pleased look.
He strode casually to the other side of the bed, toeing off his shoes before climbing in next to her.
"I'll deal with Tiberius, Lu, I need you to look for leaks in the canoe…"
Red stroked a hand down her leg, drawing her undivided attention.
"...Hmm? Oh. Yeah, sorry…" Rosalie had missed what she was saying. "...No, that's fine."
She managed to cast a very chastising glance Raymond's way, which only seemed to spur him on.
A devilish smirk passed his lips before he leaned down to insolently place a kiss to her left knee.
A shiver traversed Rosalie's warm skin as she attempted to end her conversation.
"Yes...Yes, Lu. I know." The woman on the other end wasn't taking the hint.
Red trailed a burning path along the back of her thighs, ending at the ticklish spot that marked the transition from her legs to her pert little backside.
The sensation had Rosalie squirming and stammering. "L-Lu I've got to go." She pleaded her case, eyes narrowing as a deep chuckle vibrated against her skin.
"I'm not going to mess about with Tiberius, Luli, If he doesn't want to play ball, I'll just buy the house out from under him." She growled irritably into the phone, "I need to go. We'll talk later."
Red was beside himself with mirth, having found a pastime which could so easily unravel his counterpart.
The heated grey orbs told him she was not pleased with his discovery, even as she arched into his touch.
She tossed the phone away from her, leveling him a stern gaze. "Unless you're prepared to take me here and now, I suggest you take those wandering hands and trek elsewhere."
"Or what?" he purred challengingly.
"I don't think you want to play this game with me, Raymond." Rosalie warned, giving him an out. She was fresh out of reasons to behave herself around him, and having him in her bed stroking her like that was not helping.
"Oh I think I do." He growled darkly.
Rosalie the criminal was an arousing little minx that made Red conveniently forget any and all honorable intent he may have started with.
She gave him fair warning, "I can be a terrible, merciless tease when prevailed upon. Are you certain you want to issue such a challenge with me?"
Raymond thought for a moment, his head resting on one of her shins, his left hand still carelessly caressing her thigh. "Yes." He decided, goosing the back of her knee. She pulled the appendage back with a squeak, rolling to sit upright.
"I accept your challenge." said Raymond placidly, standing up and adjusting his waistcoat.
"I suggest you pack your lunch, then, Raymond. It's going to be a long week."
"You seem convinced you're going to come out on top." noted Red, "Excellent. I enjoy a challenge."
"Someone's confident." She smirked, eyes narrowed in amusement.
"You'll find I'm always confident." He intoned leaning to kiss her cheek.
Rosalie turned, her lips brushing against his ear.
"I'm confident I'm going to have you climbing the walls." She purred, placing a cheeky little kiss to his jaw.
The group met up with Jacopo and his lieutenants shortly thereafter for dinner. They went to a bustling local's spot in Onda, where several spectacularly large tables had been setup right in the middle of the street.
Excellent food and wine abounded, lubricating the night for a boisterous and enjoyable party.
Italians, particularly those in the area surrounding Siena, tended to gravitate towards people with an ambiguous moral compass. Raymond and Rosalie, with their naturally devious natures, fit right in. The pair were quickly placing under the table bets and doling out bribes for the sake of their chosen contrada. Naturally, they had chosen different contrade to spice up the stakes.
Their innocent little competition quickly turned underhanded, as Raymond's contrada, Oca, secured a promising jockey who had already won the Palio multiple times.
Rosalie had bet on the "Nonna" to be cheeky. The Nonna was a nickname given to the contrada which hadn't won the Palio in several years. Civetta, the current Nonna, hadn't won since 1985.
Jacopo was betting, trading, and undermining like a pickpocketing bandit. Rosalie, ever the helpful companion, was right in the thick of it with him. She facilitated a perfect mixture of feminine wiles and formidable business sense to assist Jacopo in his endeavors.
Raymond watched her intently, noting other men were doing so as well.
The dress she chose for the night was light and airy, flowing over her curves like a winding river. The pale sage green colour actually paired well with Raymond's eyes, which were glued to each dip and sway of her hips. Her delicate shoulders were uncovered, peaking over the small sleeves which wrapped about her arms. Something about the glimpse of skin made Red absolutely parched.
Stratos chortled, seeing the man's attentions wholly diverted to the spritely figure across the table. He leaned over to Raymond as Rosalie and Jacopo sat conspiring for Onda. "I had no idea she was such a wild card, Raymond, no wonder you've been keeping her to yourself."
"I think she aspires to be a siren." Red intoned in a velvety voice, a mischievous glint lurking behind his eyes.
"I prefer the term freebooter," retorted Rosalie, catching his comment with a sly smirk. "And there's no aspiring, darling, I'm already there."
Raymond grinned, all too eager to take up a round of witty banter with the confident little deviant. "Is that so, my dear?"
"If you recall, you've called me a minx several times this week alone." The sincerity in her voice did nothing to hide the blatant implications of such a statement.
Her eyes met his challengingly as she counted out several euros for a bribe against the Nicchio contrada.
"And I stand by that statement. You could steal a sailor from the sea." Red crooned, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek.
The expression always gave him an air of roguishness that made Rosalie squirm in delight.
Raymond caught the subtle shift of her thighs, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.
When the group finally returned to the apartment, they were all quite drunk, and their pockets were considerably lighter for their cavorting and racketeering.
In the dark of the home's halls, Raymond and Rosalie took their sweet time heading toward their rooms. By the time they reached their hallway, the others were already safely out of the way.
Red pulled the tipsy little creature to him, kissing her sensually. She matched his ardour, stroking his tongue languidly with hers. She could taste the robust wine they had been drinking, making her feel doubly dizzy.
"I want you in my bed." She purred boldly, "But we can't."
Raymond groaned into her mouth, backing her into the nearest wall. "Why not?" he questioned, trailing his mouth down her slender neck.
"Because it is hotter 'n a blister bug in a pepper patch." She giggled, the tiniest hint of an accent sneaking into her voice.
"And I," She prodded a finger into Red's chest. "Have been looking forward to sprawling naked on that bed."
Raymond's eyebrows hit his hairline as she jutted a thumb down the hall.
"All. Day. Long."
She accentuated the statement with little pokes to his person, working her way up to the top of his shirt, where the first few buttons were undone. A quiet hum could be heard as she focused on the small glimpse of his skin, the chest hair there reminding her of the virile, confident man she had been eyeing earlier.
When her eyes flitted coyly up to Raymond's face she found the same man, but his visage had darkened to a heated, predatory nature. She was forcefully reminded of the power he held, the towering intellect that had drawn her to him in the first place, the way he positively swaggered into a room.
Rosalie's knees shook, every inch of Raymond Reddington now felt like new and uncharted territory.
Her eyes dropped to the opening of his shirt, placing a sweet, gentle kiss to the warm skin. The scent that was uniquely his flooded her senses, pulling a needy whine from her throat.
Raymond stood stock still, bracing himself against the wall behind her with one hand. He had been too busy chuckling at her endearing antics and the quaint phrases which had snuck into her speech to notice the palpable change in atmosphere. The soft kiss she placed to his bare chest brought him out of his haze and made him growl in approval. She hadn't yet kissed him there, and it now felt painfully, wonderfully intimate.
Raymond thumbed her chin, guiding the sweet little face to look up at him. "You're cruel, woman."
"You started it." She grinned, reaching up to give his nose a boop.
The woman turned on her heel, giggling aloud as she wriggled from his grasp.
Red watched her go, forcing himself not to follow her tipsy footsteps. He was confident he couldn't keep his hands to himself if he were to join her.
This was going to be a long week, and Raymond couldn't help but look forward to every agonizing second.
Stratos's Apartment - Piazza del Campo, Siena, Italy - July 2nd, 1999
The morning of the Palio saw two very disgruntled criminals tossing and turning in bed.
Reddington was sorely regretting the challenge he had issued Rosalie.
She hadn't been downplaying her abilities as a merciless tease.
His prowess was on par with hers, however, leaving them both in a rather frazzled state.
Cold showers abounded as their antics reached a near-boiling point.
Everything the woman did and everything she wore seemed to set the man on fire.
Red had kissed her right up to her door each night, enthralled with their flagrant disregard for their previous boundaries. He had also growled his dissatisfaction each time the little hellion kissed him off, feigning utmost innocence.
She giggled openly as she disappeared into her room, all too eager to leave him hot and bothered at her door.
The woman in question was not immune, however, and in the very early hours of the morning, she huffed her frustration. A delightful dream had been waylaid by the sound of church bells in the distance. It was the crack of dawn and her body felt like it was burning from the inside out.
Deciding nothing could be harmed by it, she got up and quietly padded to the master bath across the hall.
Raymond had been unable to sleep as well. He was enjoying an ice cold glass of juice when he heard the sound of the shower running upstairs and smiled softly to himself.
As he walked back to his room, a soft, feminine moan reached his ears. Red halted like a stone bust in the hall, ears pricked for any further sound. Another groan drifted down to where he stood. Without hesitation, the man strode in the direction of the master bath.
The sound of the shower grew louder as he reached the door, another groan echoing from the confines of the room. The man was just starting to feel concerned that Rosalie was somehow hurt when a soft mew followed by a girlish giggle escaped from behind the closed door.
Heat crept up Red's neck at the thought of what he had inadvertently walked into. He knew he shouldn't be listening, but he found his feet were glued to the floor.
The sounds he could hear from his place outside the door left him painfully aware of what the beautiful young woman was up to in there.
Her soft whimpering gasps cut right through him.
If this was one of her teasing antics, he would gladly concede defeat if it meant finding out precisely what delectable things she was doing to coax those sounds from her own mouth.
Red placed his hand gently against the door, allowing his head to hit the frame with a soft thud .
The moans continued to creep through the space between door and frame. Raymond closed his eyes, listening hungrily to each one.
He could tell she was close, her panting had sped up, each whimper became more desperate as she chased her climax.
Red's erection strained painfully against the zipper of his trousers. He palmed himself just enough to relieve some of the ache.
She was becoming more erratic now, he could hear how frantic she was as she brought herself ever closer to the edge.
Red had to stifle a groan as he heard her pleading for release in a trembling voice. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, and it went straight to his throbbing cock.
He could picture her then, in the throes of passion, fisting the sheets of his bed as he drove her wild.
He could practically hear her call his name, until he realized with a jolt that his name was coming from the bathroom.
"Raymond...oh god, Raymond!"
He panicked for a moment, thinking she must have noticed his presence. When nothing happened and the sinful noises continued from the room, Red realized with a barely contained moan that Rosalie was thinking of him .
The thought combined with the utterly wanton cry signalling her release and Red felt his knees buckling as he held fast to the frame. The noises quietened to soft gasps as Rosalie recovered from her high. She was trembling, shaking from her orgasm, and the man could hear it. The noises made his body tense and shudder, wanting to kick the door down and ravage the woman within.
A short while later, Rosalie continued her shower where she left off, her breathing restored to normal.
Red took a steadying breath and walked quietly back down the hall. He needed a drink to calm the blood that was pounding through his veins at an alarming rate. The bar cart in the lounge held a new bottle of his favourite scotch. He poured a couple fingers and retreated to the woman's room, trying to focus on anything but her naked and getting off in the shower. He needed to compose himself before she arrived.
He was losing the upper hand, in their little game, and he was determined to regain his footing.
When Rosalie finished her shower, she padded to her room only to find Raymond relaxing on her bed, casually staring her down.
"My apologies for startling you, my dear," he purred, "I would have announced myself but I know how much you love your long showers. So I poured myself a drink and let you finish ."
He caressed the last word with an indecent level of smugness.
Rosalie lowered her eyes to her attire as the realization hit her. He knew full well what she had gotten up to in the shower and was raring to tease her about it.
Rather than making her feel abashed, his obvious interest in her antics only served to confirm she was having a sizable effect on him.
He grinned at her pointed silence. "The Palio doesn't start for several hours. If you don't mind, I think I'll indulge in a nice hot rinse as well."
The man stood up and swaggered down the hall with entirely too much bravado.
The blood still pounded in his ears as he made his way to the master bath. Red needed release or he was certain he would snap.
Opening the doors to the lavish suite, he stepped into the still steamy confines, an animalistic growl erupting from his throat.
The scent of Rosalie's bath products hung lightly in the air, mingling with the unmistakable and achingly delicious scent of aroused woman.
Raymond's nostrils flared, taking in the titillating blend of scents.
A feminine giggle could be heard from the hallway. Red turned to see Rosalie's mischievous little face peeking around the door.
She knew damn well what had caused such a specific growl to echo from the steamy space.
"Enjoy your rinse, Reddington." she purred, "Here's an extra towel, should you need it."
Red's eyes dilated as she tossed the towel she had been wearing onto one of the sink basins. The door conveniently covered her nakedness and she laughed merrily, winking cheekily before striding down the hall without a care in the world.
Raymond stood knock-kneed in the steamy room, his shaft aching with need.
The cruel little tease wasn't just winning their game, she was systematically destroying the dying vestiges of the man's already feeble resolve.
He was going to break, that much he knew, it was just a question of how long he could withstand the onslaught. Part of him revelled in the challenge, seeing how long he could hold himself back from the wicked siren who was determined to be his.
Later that morning, the group was gathering to make their way to the Palio. Rosalie had just walked into the kitchen wearing what could very well be her new favourite outfit. She had chosen it specifically to support Jacopo's contrada, even though they weren't running. She had also chosen it because of the insufferable heat.
It was a pale blue seafoam romper, something the woman hadn't worn in years. The cut was cute and modest, yet left her toned legs on full display. She told herself her choice of attire had nothing to do with the fact that Raymond seemed completely enamoured with that particular part of her anatomy.
She paired the outfit with a pair of small beige boots and red rimmed sunglasses.
"Reddington is going to ask where your gun is." Reminded Horace, looking at the woman in the aquamarine romper, baffled as to where she planned on hiding the damn thing. His comment was met with silence and a sly, carefree smile.
Reddington entered the kitchen in another pale suit, the sleeves preemptively rolled up and the top buttons opened.
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the young innkeeper.
Dembe and Horace grinned knowingly at each other.
"Where did she find that ensemble?" Asked Dembe softly.
"She went shopping with Jacopo's daughters yesterday afternoon." Intoned Horace, "I think she's determined to kill him or bed him, whichever comes first."
The bodyguards snorted with laughter. They had suspected there was a battle of wills occurring between Raymond and Rosalie, and the looks the man was giving her all but confirmed it.
Rosalie dimpled coyly at him. She thread her fingers in front of her in what, to the untrained eye, seemed like an innocent expression.
The formidable fugitive strode casually into the room, determinedly gaining the upper hand. He eyed her body openly, from her head of golden curls right down to the toes of her small boots.
It was impossible for Rosalie not to be affected by his gaze.
Her whole body flushed a pleasant pink as he stood nose to nose with her.
"You need a hat, my dear." He advised, plucking the straw fedora from his own pate and popping it on her curls with a flourish.
The item was much like her panama, a very light straw color with a striking black band.
Rosalie looked up at him from beneath the the brim. "What about you?" She asked, thinking he would be terribly uncomfortable without something covering his head.
Red's mouth twitched minutely as he reached behind her, plucking an almost identical hat from the rack beside the door. He placed it on his head, running his fingertips from the back of the brim to the front, showcasing the chocolate brown band that distinguished the fedora from the one on Rosalie.
Their merry little band filed out of the comfortable apartment and into the bustling streets. Stratos and Jacopo lead the way to their seats along the track.
Raymond grasped Rosalie's hand, guiding her through the thronging crowds with Horace and Dembe flanking them on either side.
"My God, it's hotter than Satan's house cat." Grumbled Rosalie, feeling the heat pour over like a stifling haze as they took to the stands.
"How you aren't burning up in all that is beyond me." She commented idly to Raymond, shimmying down the line.
Red watched the full hips swish back and forth. "Sweetheart, you have no idea." He grumbled under his breath.
Dembe was the only one to catch his comment.
A low, smooth laugh sounded from behind Raymond, who turned to look at his bodyguard. The young man chortled merrily at his sullen expression.
"You're enjoying this too much." Reddington chastised, the corner of his mouth just barely twitching in amusement.
"She warned you." goaded Dembe, eager to escalate the matter.
Raymond narrowed his eyes at the reminder, choosing not to address the shrewd observation in favor of taking his seat beside Rosalie.
He glanced surreptitiously over at the lithe form, "Where is your firearm?" Red chided. He had yet to stop admiring her attire, however he doubted she could have even fit her switchblades in it.
"I'm following the rules." She groused, "Mind you, it wasn't easy. I had to get damn clever with the sewing."
Red looked over her attire again, eyes trailing down the plain of her back, over the curve of her derrière and down those damnable legs.
"I don't believe you. Where on earth could you hide it?"
An indelicate snigger issued from beside him.
"Ah, the feminine mystique strikes again." intoned Dembe, sharing a mischievous grin with the young innkeeper.
Rosalie beamed at her comrade, leaning into his ear and sharing her secrets.
The man's eyebrows rose, apparently impressed with her textile-based ingenuity. He offered a silent golf clap in praise of her efforts, smirking knowingly at a disgruntled Raymond Reddington.
Red's relentless curiosity was piqued, so he tapped her shoulder with a thick digit.
Rosalie turned, peering docilely up at him.
Intent on locating the elusive weapon, Red's large, warm hands gripped her hips. The strong fingers kneaded the pliant flesh, searching for any indication of her hiding spot.
Dembe chuckled, instinctively turning his large frame to help shield them from sight. Stratos was too busy talking animatedly with Jacopo, his broad shoulders blocking their other side. Raymond backed the woman against the railing, blocking the last avenue of visibility to their antics.
Rosalie watched him through hooded eyes as the fire in her belly stirred to vivid life. Her body delighted in his intense scrutiny, wanting to be bared to his gaze.
Those powerful hands painted sinful pictures in her mind's eye as they followed the outward curve of her hips up into the narrow hollow of her waist.
Raymond couldn't stifle a deep growl of longing as his hands outlined the tantalizing hourglass. His thumbs grazed over the soft material covering the taut surface of her abdomen, finally catching on a tiny bump running across the narrow slip of her waist. The bump continued in a ring around her body, which Red traced until his fingertips grazed a hard object behind her back.
Eyes boring into hers, Raymond grasped the soft shoulders, guiding them so she was standing with her back to him.
A sweet ache thrummed between Rosalie's legs as she practically felt his heated gaze trailing down her body.
Red leaned forward, grasping the railing on either side of the curvaceous frame, boxing her in with his masculine bulk.
Rosalie found she quite liked the position. She felt safe, protected from all the bellowing and noise. It was like a bubble had surrounded them in the crowd, creating their own little world. Raymond's scent and proximity made her quiver, truth be told, and the reaction did not go unnoticed by Reddington. He leaned in, stealthily placing his warm lips to her sun-kissed nape.
The action pulled a tremulous sigh from Rosalie before she could stifle it.
A devilish grin tugged at Raymond's mouth.
He was enjoying the hell out of this.
The Concierge of Crime knew precisely where her firearm was hidden, yet he continued his slow, deliberate perusal of her trembling form anyway.
Red lifted a hand to brush the honeyed curls away from the woman's neck, trailing his deft fingertips over the satiny expanse, fighting a definite urge to lick every goosebump he left in his wake.
His searching and groping carried down her shoulders, and around the curves of her waist and hips, deliberately missing the item by millimeters. Finally, his hands trekked slowly down the centre of her spine, bumping into a hard object halfway down her frame.
"I seem to have found evidence of contraband, darling." His tone was victorious as his lips grazed the shell of her ear.
Rosalie squeaked, leaning into the pleasant tickle of his warm breath against her sensitive skin.
"My only question is…"
The rumbling voice made her thighs squeeze together in a desperate attempt to relieve the need he was creating.
"...How do you plan to access such an elusive item?"
A lone digit extended to stroke the supple flesh of her thigh, skirting along the hem of her clothing, teasing the burning skin hidden beneath the soft fabric.
"This little ensemble is so perfectly fitted," he growled, pressing his imposing frame against hers.
"I want to know, from where, exactly, you might be pulling all that fire power?" His request was punctuated by a dark chuckle as he nipped her earlobe.
Rosalie was going to spontaneously combust, she just knew it.
Her lips were parted, arousal coursing through her every nerve ending. As though under a spell, her traitorous hand grasped his, lifting it from the railing. She looked back at Raymond, placing a gentle kiss to his palm as she did so.
Red's breath hitched, watching the rosy lips meet his skin.
Rosalie's heart was hammering as she mentally scrambled to get her bearings. She turned back to the railing, her slender fingers threading through his.
Raymond grunted as she placed his hand on her lower abdomen, just a hair's breadth above her pelvis.
"Here?" he questioned, disbelief colouring his voice.
"No." She giggled, keeping her hand over his, guiding it around to her hip.
The man behind her hummed softly as she dragged his hand along the soft fabric.
"Here?" he rasped, his fingers curling instinctively into the delectable curve, the image of himself pulling her frame back to meet his thrusts flooding his mind.
"No." She grinned, sensing where his mind had wandered. She adjusted her arm, bending it behind her back the way one would when getting handcuffed.
"Rosalie." Raymond whispered her name like a plea. His well-laid plans were going to hell entirely too quickly for his liking.
The little deviant wiggled her fingers at him, calling to the hand she had abandoned.
With no small amount of trepidation, the man placed his fingertips to her palm.
The little grip closed around two of the thick digits, guiding them to the bottom of one of the romper's pleats, just above the swell of her backside.
Rosalie turned her head to the side, silently beckoning him closer. She wanted him near, wanted to bask in the exact moment when he located his target.
Red leaned over her shoulder, shielding her actions and brushing his lips against hers. A delighted hum poured from her mouth as he did so.
Red felt her reaffirm her hold on his fingers, shifting them ever so slowly up the inside crease of the pleat.
As they reached the dip of her waist, Red felt something.
A tiny, minuscule zipper was tucked within the pleat, completely invisible to the naked eye.
Raymond's fingers closed on the little tab, the green eyes locking on the little face gazing up at him.
Rosalie waited in agonized anticipation as he gently tugged.
It was torture, feeling each one of the zipper's teeth give way.
His lips parted, brushing teasingly against hers as her sweet breath ghosted across his lips.
When the hidden space opened, Red pulled away, cocking his head and grinning slyly at the glinting handle of the Browning hi-power.
What he found just below the firearm, however, shook the man to his very foundations.
Rosalie watched him avidly as recognition dawned on his handsome features.
There, just beneath the gun's glinting barrel, he spotted the tiniest scrap of snow-white panties he had ever seen.
Raymond's forehead thudded against her shoulder with a piteous moan.
Rosalie giggled in her mischievous way, not helping the situation in the slightest.
Raymond knew now, she had expected him to go looking for the firearm, had known if she had made the slightest mystery of it, he wouldn't cease until he located it. She had planned for the eventuality, and delighted in teasing him with a devilish peak at the innocent bit of lingerie cradling her feminine assets.
"Have mercy, woman." He pleaded in his sinfully deep baritone, his index finger reaching within to stroke beneath the minuscule strip of lace.
The fantasies hurtling through his mind in that moment would have dropped a lesser man to his knees.
"You were the one insisting on frisking me." She reminded, unaware she was arching up into his touch.
"You damnable little minx," he admonished in a tone of utmost reverence, "How on earth am I supposed to concentrate on anything with you right here, looking like every one of my schoolboy fantasies?"
"I warned you Raymond." She moaned softly, feeling the evidence of his arousal pressing against the small of her back.
She placed her lips against his ear, teasing him further. "We can revisit your school boy fantasies later, I'm almost certain there's a pleated skirt in my overnight bag."
Raymond groaned, reaching a hand to cup her cheek, guiding her sweet mouth to his.
Rosalie could vaguely hear wolf whistles echoing from across the track, but she was too preoccupied with Red's tongue to be bothered.
She was about to suggest they take their little exploration back to the apartment when the sound of cannon fire echoed along the piazza.
Il Palio was about to begin.
