A rumble of dissension passed between Raymond and Rosalie at the sound of the cannon. Neither seemed pleased at the disruption, their shared arousal thrumming palpably in the air between them.

A passel of young Sienese men could be heard cat-calling the pair from across the track. One stern glance from the man in the hat had them quieter than church mice.

Rosalie watched the exchange with unbridled amusement, Raymond's dark countenance was rather enticing in her opinion.

She leaned forward, placing her lips to a point just beneath his jaw.

Red turned his head slightly, opening himself to the affection.

Rosalie grinned and kissed the place again, nuzzling the stubble there playfully. It seemed she had found a bit of a soft spot, as Raymond's eyelids fluttered and he unconsciously pressed closer to the feminine silhouette in front of him.

Rosalie hummed contentedly, pleased at being surrounded by his larger frame.

"We'll continue this later, I wouldn't want you to miss the race." Raymond murmured quietly, placing his lips to her temple once more before striking up a conversation with Dembe.

Their friend was grinning slyly at them both, noticing how Raymond remained protectively close to Rosalie as the crowd became more and more raucous.

An idea struck Red, and he leaned into Dembe's ear while passing his friend a large wad of cash.

Dembe smiled suspiciously at the other man before taking the money and hurriedly making his way along the row.

"Where's he going?" asked Rosalie, watching his broad frame parting the sea of onlookers.

Red smirked at nothing in particular. "Never you mind. He's making a last minute bribe for me. He'll be back long before the race starts."

True to his word, Dembe returned moments later with a broad grin. The bribe had obviously been successful.

Rosalie eyed the pair suspiciously, who met her with identical looks of utmost innocence.

The pageantry and fanfare soon began, inundating the piazza in a riot of song and color. There were several performers presenting the colors of the various contrade, the ones racing, those not chosen, and those that were no longer in existence.

Rosalie had always been a sucker for tradition. There was something about ritual and the meaning behind such things within a culture that thoroughly tugged at her heart strings. As the performers brought by the colors of past contrade, she felt her eyes mist slightly. They were taking part in something centuries old.

This wild derby of craft and cleverness withstood a daunting test of time. The people of Siena were holding its importance in their hearts, keeping the tradition alive through years of war, years of peace, years of plenty, and years of want. Centuries later, the Sienese still stood, young and old, cheering and singing their songs with pride.

It was a terribly lovely thing, to be a part of something which was held so dear.

Raymond watched her features avidly. Even behind her sunglasses, he could see she was moved by the proceedings. She saw the value in old things, in tradition. It was one of the more endearing things he had learned about her.

Jacopo was singing a roaring tune with his contrada, all but shaking the stands with their song. The portly old fellow was having a terribly good time, even if his contrada was not competing. He had done his part to sabotage their rivals and bolster their allies, and now sat back to enjoy the festivities.

It wasn't until he started telling stories of his contrada's various Palio misdeeds did the group really get rowdy.

Rosalie was in tears of laughter as Jacopo told her and Raymond a story from his teens. Apparently, he and his friends had sprayed the scent of a mare on a pillar where the Torre contrada's horse was going to be tethered. Torre's horse was, of course, a stallion, who could hardly be bothered to stumble his way around the track by the time the race came around.

"Oh, poor old boy." Rosalie tutted, wiping the mirth from her eyes.

Raymond let out a barking laugh. "Yes, I can't possibly imagine what that must be like." He groused, staring pointedly at the tease who had spent the better part of the day tormenting him.

The look on Rosalie's face was priceless.

Slowly, the horses and jockeys began to line up at the start. The names of each contrada were called out in the order of the lot they drew, followed by the run-in horse at the end.

"Now, what does it cost to bribe the run-in jockey?" Asked Rosalie, leaning into Jacopo's ear.

"Roughly €70,000." Said Jacopo, his eyes not leaving the start. "The run-in jockey could swing the whole race, so he is paid very handsomely."

The whole piazza watched with bated breath, it was the quietest they had been all day.

There were several false starts before finally, the run-in jockey took off like a bullet.

The noise was deafening as the crowd took up their cheering and the horses came sprinting past.

Red clapped and whistled loudly as the jockey for Pantera took a spectacular dive off the chestnut stallion he was riding.

Rosalie's contrada, Civetta, was lingering in the background, as unlikely to win as ever. She laughed at the thought as the riders came about for the first lap, the stands around them exploding with noise.

Raymond had bet on Oca, and was so far in the lead. Trecciolino, the jockey, had already won the Palio thrice. It bode well for Red's chosen contrada.

It also helped that Red had foot a few bribes to ease his path.

Rosalie felt Raymond's tall frame lean into hers, mentally willing his horse to win. They all leaned forward as the horses came hurtling around the track for the second lap.

It was incredible, they not only heard the sound of thundering hooves, they could positively feel it as the percussive galloping reverberated off the walls and into the stands.

"Come on," muttered Red, "just a bit longer."

Oca was in the lead, but just barely holding it. The horse from Pantera was hot on his trail. Even without its jockey, the other horse could still win the race.

Raymond grasped Rosalie's waist as the horses came thundering toward the finish line just past their seats. The crowd was roaring yet everything seemed to go silent as they watched Oca cross the finish line in the lead.

The piazza rang with song, cheering, and screaming from the Oca contrada. They had won, with Pantera coming in at a close second.

The revelers took to the track, celebrating and whooping their elation.

Red was grinning broadly, incredibly pleased with his win.

Beside the group of victors was a rather vicious-looking group of men. One was wearing a slick suit and was positively screaming at a young man, hitting him repeatedly across the face.

Rosalie's eyes snapped toward the commotion, narrowing at a young jockey and the barbaresco of a contrada having a rather boisterous row.

The horse belonged to Pantera, which had come in second out of the Contrade, without its jockey. This was in many ways worse than losing by a wide margin.

The creature had flattened his ears, understandably nervous with all of the noise.

The rider was awfully young, all of 18, maybe less. The poor thing was covered in dirt from his fall and now had a bloody nose to boot.

It was when the barbaresco had raised the whip toward the skittish animal that Rosalie's temper roared to the surface.

Without hesitating or consulting her cohorts, the woman leapt the barrier and strode hotly toward the commotion.

The men glanced at each other with varying degrees of amusement, which immediately turned to concern as the brazen hellcat reached her target, Pantera's barbaresco, a man by the name of Diamanté.

Rosalie stepped so she was nose to nose with the Sienese heavyweight, refusing to shrink at his snarling. Her smoking grey eyes narrowed nastily at the man as she shouted right back at him in fluent, fiery Italian.

Jacopo roared in delight, leaping to join the fray with several men of his contrada, young and old, supporting the woman who was setting Diamanté in his place.

Raymond, Horace, Dembe, and Stratos followed, getting separated in the rapidly growing crowd.

Rosalie was rattling off more than a few choice words. The Onda contrada accepted the blazing virago as one of their own, surrounding her on all sides to take up her cause with boisterous, rude gestures in the enemy's direction.

Red reached her first. He tugged her shoulder, turning her into his chest, inserting himself as a pillar of support in the rapidly heating argument.

"Vai a cacare, troi!" The fat man groused, waving the young woman off.

The comment sent Rosalie whipping back into the fray, a barrage of fierce retorts dripping from her tongue like acid.

Several men from Onda also rushed forward, offended on her behalf. The bustling crowd managed to wedge itself between Raymond and Rosalie, with Red just barely able to see the head of blond hair beneath the horde. The elusive woman had wiggled her way back to the front of the crowd, her eyes blazing at her opponent.

Dembe appeared beside him and pressed a phone into Red's hand. The bodyguard had already dialled Jacopo, who was somewhere in the mass of people.

"Che cosa?" He answered, the sound on the other end deafening.

"Jacopo, I need you to make absolutely certain nothing happens to Rosalie." Red worked his way along the outside edge of the group, straining to catch a glimpse of the fedora-clad blonde in the centre of the fray.

"Not to worry, I've got your piccola amante. We'll get her out in one piece." Jacopo assured, commanding the others in booming Italian.

Raymond watched as the men surrounding Jacopo turned to relay the message to those around them, his nerves settling slightly.

Horace was attempting to push his way through the crowd to get to his charge, but to no avail. The contrada had taken up her protection at Raymond's behest and were not about to let anyone else into the altercation.

Rosalie's argument with the Sienese barbaresco was reaching a fevered pitch.

"Li mortacci tua!" she snarled, her full lips caressing the words with almost indecent enjoyment.

Raymond couldn't help but grin with pride at her gumption. He wasn't great spades at Italian, but he knew the phrase she uttered was quite the rejoinder.

The men around Rosalie took up the insult, chanting it merrily in the other man's face. They sing-songed the retort, turning it into a delightfully crude serenade.

Their taunting hit a nerve, and the towering meatball of a man made the grave mistake of lifting a hand towards the woman.

Before Red could even begin battling his way through the crowd, the contrada swarmed in around Rosalie. The men spun, guided, and lifted her in a whirl of movement so she was deposited safely outside of the fight, directly in front of one relieved Raymond Reddington.

He confronted the fiery woman before him. Her breasts heaved against the aquamarine romper, her cheeks ablaze and the small hands at her sides were balled into angry fists.

Red's eyes belied his amusement as he reached to tug on one of the golden curls nestled beneath his fedora.

"Now, what manner of chaos have you managed to orchestrate today, my dear?"

The woman breathed deeply, smirking as she looked up past the brim of his fedora. "I told him the Contrada Pantera could sell me their horse and treat their jockey like a human being, or, I could funnel my considerable wealth and talents into assisting their rival, La Contrada Dell'Aquila. I've heard they are quite the handful."

Raymond snorted indelicately, thinking her threat certainly wasn't idle. The last time Aquila won, the contrada had blasted mottos mocking Pantera from their church's bell tower for over a month straight.

" That's not all you said ." He chided knowingly, cocking his head at her.

Rosalie tittered mischievously, stepping into the man's sphere and dimpling up at him. "I might have said something along the lines of his bastard ancestors…"

Her usually gentle and warm voice held a heated, playful tone that stroked the fire of Raymond's arousal back to an unbearable inferno.

Reddington lifted the woman bodily onto his shoulder, chortling darkly and shaking his head as she continued to goad Diamanté.

"Porca Misera! Coglione!" she cheered in solidarity as the young jockey sank a fist into the barbaresco's jaw. "Dammit Raymond," she giggled, her small hand swatting him playfully, just barely making contact with the man's firm rump. "Put me down!"

"Careful now, I thought Stratos told you I enjoyed that sort of thing."

Rosalie laughed her merriment, adding a pinch for good measure.

The man deposited her in the shadow of a nearby archway. His masculine frame blocked any path of escape, forcing Rosalie to halt her movements and look up at him with wide eyes.

Straight-backed and formidable, the Concierge of Crime prowled toward her, setting her heart racing.

Rosalie balked. It was moments like this when she was forcibly reminded of who the man was. His frame seemed taller, broader, he towered over her. The sheer masculinity he exuded was all-consuming, and it made her feel wonderfully nervous.

Raymond backed her into the darkest corner of the archway and Rosalie nearly yelped as she felt the solid, immovable stone wall appear behind her.

He had her pinned, and there was nowhere for her to go.

She quite liked it.

Raymond's powerful arms pressed both hands against the wall behind her, bracketing the little spitfire so she couldn't move an inch without brushing against a very amused fugitive.

He turned his head, tracing the tip of his nose along the hollow at the base of her neck. The dark, delectable sound of his laughter reverberated pleasantly along Rosalie's skin.

The simple gesture sent shock waves through the woman, pulling her mind from her previous pursuits entirely. She leaned into his warm mouth as it opened, suckling and nipping the spot intently.

"You are a fiery little Machiavellian, aren't you?" he teased, thrilling in the tremors that wracked her feminine frame.

He adored her.

She was a vivacious, devious creature, and before the day was over, Red would have her.

He was planning for the eventuality even now.

Before Rosalie could reply, before she knew what was happening, Red's mouth was devouring hers. His hands wandered, one curling into the ample curve of her backside, the other sliding along the front of her romper, dragging a thumb over the pert nipple he found straining against the fabric.

Rosalie's arms wrapped instinctively around his neck leaning into his touch as he thoroughly ravaged her. She found she liked this rough handling, a breathy moan working its way out of her throat as he teased and tormented her.

Raymond relinquished her kiss-swollen mouth, his dark eyes burning into the woman wedged into the corner.

"My contrada won, my little dove."

The deep grey eyes looked up at him, watching in fascination as his lips formed the words. He had never called her 'little dove' before. Rosalie felt an unexpected squirm of delight at the endearment.

"I've been forced to watch you strut around in this little getup for hours, knowing exactly what you've got hidden beneath." He chastised, giving her a stern look even as she flashed an impish smile up at him.

"I thought you enjoyed my surprise?" She asked innocently, her face a perfect mask of mock disappointment.

Reddington leaned forward to speak directly into her ear. "Oh, my little deviant," he purred, "I loved it. So much so, I've decided what my prize will be for winning our wager."

Rosalie froze. He couldn't possibly… He couldn't mean…

He cocked his head, watching her reaction hungrily. "Now you can strut around the rest of the day knowing that when you least expect it, I'm going to steal those lovely little white panties from you."

The statement made her jaw drop and her thighs squeeze together in anticipation.

"And there is nothing you can do to keep me from my prize." Raymond promised, leaning back enough to take in the sight of the trembling, disheveled woman.

After her shenanigans in the shower that morning, he had been looking for his opportunity to regain control of their antics. The last minute bribe had secured his contrada's win, garnering him that opportunity.

The shock written plainly on Rosalie's face made the man chuckle. If she hadn't also been squirming with excitement Raymond might have thought he'd gone too far.

Instead, he had sparked a wildfire in her which he looked forward to stoking over the coming hours. He'd guaranteed she would be on her toes the rest of the day, waiting for him to take what was his. She'd be elusive, hard to get.

Red looked forward to the challenge. He would still find ways to corner her, he would tease and excite her to the point of all but giving him the item.

Unable to quell the delectable fantasies involving the little blonde, Raymond tempered his arousal by claiming her lips again.

Poor Jacopo made his way back through the brawling crowd with a split lip and a boyish grin. The man looked like he had won the lottery.

"Raymond!" He bellowed, walking toward the pair with arms outstretched, "You and your… Oh, ho, ho!" He stumbled upon the amorous couple sequestered in a dark corner of a nearby archway.

Red didn't even hear the man's approach, so intent was he on teasing the woman trapped between himself and the stone wall.

Rosalie was at his mercy, each touch and caress driving her wild as Raymond kissed her senseless.

The pair finally broke for air, the tension between them painfully heavy, only to find Jacopo, several members of his contrada, Horace, and Dembe waiting patiently for their presence to be acknowledged.

"Um…" murmured Rosalie, looking over his shoulder at the small crowd, one of whom gave a loud wolf-whistle. She turned back to Raymond.

The man was entirely unfazed at them being caught. He turned slightly, leaving one hand behind her on the wall and allowing the other to drop to his trouser pocket.

"Well that was fun." He quipped, looking blithely back at the group. "Now, what's this I heard about dinner in Onda? I'm positively famished."

He turned to Rosalie, "Shall we? I'm sure you worked up an appetite starting a war amongst the contrade."

The woman's cheeks turned scarlet at the statement, making Dembe and Horace both snort with laughter.

She cast them both a poor attempt at a scathing look, willing them to help end her misery.

Dembe, the saint, came to her rescue. "Perhaps we are all ready for the calm of the dinner table, regardless of our Palio activities."

The woman mouthed an emphatic thank you to the young bodyguard, garnering a brilliant smile from him.

The couple joined their group, grinning sheepishly as they turned toward the Onda.

Before they could begin venturing outside of the piazza, however, a band of surly looking Sienese men came striding up to them in slick suits.

Jacopo narrowed his eyes at the man in the middle. He was short, wiry, and had the demeanor of an aged jackal. "Stefano." He grunted curtly, taking a sidelong step closer to the woman in the center of their group.

Red felt Jacopo's remaining contrada members shift inward as well, bracketing them on all sides.

Stefano eyed them all blithely. "I would like to speak to your young Epona, alone."

"No." Replied Jacopo, his voice stony as he glowered at the man.

The grizzled old Sienese seemed in no mood. His dark brown eyes zeroed in on Rosalie, rattling off in rapid Italian.

Raymond's countenance shifted to suspicious dislike. The man's tone did not sound entirely polite.

Rosalie strode confidently forward, the mask of the criminal calmly in place as she sized up this new threat. She responded in a formal lilting Italian, taking up the conversation without much ado.

Red watched her body language carefully for cues.

Rosalie's hands remained folded delicately in front of her. She was straight-backed, pleasant yet firm in her dealing. She showed an incredible level of poise for someone who had just nearly engaged in a fist fight.

Their conversation carried on for some time, switching to the dulcet tones of what Raymond recognized as a negotiation.

Rosalie became much more unyielding in her tone and posture as the negotiation went on.

Finally they seemed to come to an agreement. Stefano held out his hand, his voice dropping to a deeper, much more pleasant sound.

Rosalie's eyes narrowed, taking his hand whilst stepping closer to Raymond. When Stefano released her hand, she placed it significantly on Red's arm retorting in a smooth, clipped tone.

The wiry old man's dark eyes turned to Reddington. "You have quite the woman, Mr. Reddington." Stefano commented dryly.

"I most certainly do." Agreed Raymond, his head cocked and his green eyes boring into the other man. The arm Rosalie had grasped moved to wrap protectively about her hips.

Stefano seemed to recognize the subtle threat behind the gaze, nodding back to Rosalie before striding off with his cronies in tow. One of the young men stayed behind, holding the reins of Pantera's horse.

Rosalie held out her hand imperiously,into which he placed the reins before scurrying off after his group.

"I take it you got your prize?" Asked Red, eyeing the large chestnut stallion with interest.

"I make no idle threats." Confirmed Rosalie, "I decided this horse needed a home with me. Stefano disagreed, and I offered to pull every last one of my criminal strings to ensure Pantera became the next Nonna."

Raymond and the other men roared with laughter as Rosalie gave a sardonic little curtsy.

"And that's the story of how I blackmailed my way to a racehorse from the Palio of July 1999."

Her cohorts were pleased with the turn of events, taking it in turns to pet and examine the large animal.

His name was Re Artú, 'King Arthur'. He had ran a few Palios already, and was nine years old. For a stallion, he had a rather calm demeanor, standing quietly alongside his new owner. His beautiful chestnut coat was spotted with a few whipping marks which made Rosalie's blood boil.

She held the horse's bridle, softly stroking the animal's nose as she cooed lovingly to him.

"There now, old boy." She soothed, reaching to pat the horse's neck, "You are going to have a gentle, quiet life from now on. I promise." The large animal nuzzled its head against her torso affectionately, ears pricked forward to listen to the woman's soothing voice.

The comment plucked at Raymond's heart strings. There was nothing quite like the Palio, but it was easy to forget how violent it could be. The level of craftiness and skulduggery employed by the jockeys and the contrade was thrilling, but that never lessened the concern for the animals involved.

He had known the young woman had a soft spot for creatures who could not defend themselves, the haven she had at Break Maiden being a testament to it.

The young jockey who had ridden the horse limped stiffly up to Rosalie. He was bracketed on both sides by bodyguards, there to protect him from the furious Pantera crowd. "Buonasera, Signorina Eponina."

Rosalie tilted her head at the greeting, forgetting what the word Epona meant. She let it go as the barbaresco of the Civetta contrada made his way over to her as well.

"Signorina Eponina," he greeted, using the same word. "La Contrada Civetta would like to care for this horse for you until such a time your people can retrieve him."

Rosalie smiled warmly at the man and the jockey, "Would you? I'd be incredibly grateful, it will be a week or so before I can arrange transport."

Both men beamed back at her.

The barbaresco replied, "Re Artú rode his very first Palio for Civetta. He is one of Siena's finest. We would consider it an honor."

The woman gratefully relinquished the reins, leaving the contact information of her associate at Break Maiden, who would arrange transport for Artú.

She kissed both men's cheeks in thanks, speaking for a long moment with the young jockey before the men guided the horse down the track and out of sight.

Rosalie turned and smiled softly at her counterparts, "Well that's convenient. I believe we were off to grab dinner?"

The merry band let out an amused murmur of assent, turning and heading for the streets of Onda.

An hour later, they sat at another massive table in the city's streets, talking, laughing and dining with gusto.

"Jacoppo, cosa significa Epona?" Asked Rosalie in curiosity, both the jockey and the barbaresco had called her Eponina, but it wasn't ringing any bells in Rosalie's Italian vocabulary.

Jacoppo laughed as a troop of young men came drunkenly swaying by, singing a rambunctious tune about the very deity of which she asked.

"Epona was the Roman goddess of horses, travellers, and dreamers." He explained fondly, extending a hand to top off their wine. "It would seem you have garnered the affection of the Siennese."

His head nodded at the young group of men, who were still singing and making sweeping, amorous gestures back at their table.

"The horses of the Palio are deeply loved; it's the jockeys who are distrusted and often disliked." Explained Jacopo, gesturing about with the wine carafe. "Many people witnessed your confrontation with Diamanté. The notion he was going to take his anger out on Artú would be a dark stain upon the reputation of La Pantera and the role of Barbaresco." He continued, "They love you for protecting the animal, and so they give you the pet name of Epona, or Eponina as a sign of affection and appreciation."

Rosalie shook her head softly, "I would have preferred not to earn the nickname."

Jacopo patted her shoulder fondly. "It was a good thing, you've put Pantera under scrutiny. The contrada's next choices for barbaresco will reflect that."

The thought soothed Rosalie's irritation, allowing her to return to the festivities with relish.

Raymond thoroughly enjoyed terrorizing her the rest of the evening. He had cornered her thrice, each time his antics becoming more daring. He had started by simply teasing the edges of her attire, stroking the ticklish spots on the backs of her thighs, making her squirm and giggle, wondering if he was going to take his prize then. He had grinned as he was called away to settle up his bets.

Red next found her delightfully alone in the restaurant's hallway, having just escaped one of Jacopo's talkative daughters. The man had relished dragging her into the nearby phone booth and encompassing her with his broad frame. He had tugged her hair to the side and pulled the zipper of her romper halfway down as he nibbled her neck teasingly earning a string of breathy moans and a squeal of delight from his captive. A loud, strategic knock had waylaid any further exploration, and Red had hastily zipped her back up before goosing her playfully from the booth.

Raymond now had her pinned in a doorway around the side of the restaurant. Her toned legs bracketed one of his thighs, keeping her close as he kissed and caressed her without mercy.

"Raymond." She whimpered, arching her hips into his, willing him to end the agony.

"Tell me what you need." He moaned ardently, sucking her earlobe between his teeth and revelling in the feel of her little hands clawing at his back.

The delighted moan that reached his ears had him gripping her hips tightly and dragging her hips along his thigh.

Rosalie mewled, the action making her knees wobble. "God, Raymond I need- "

A group of youngsters interrupted their fun, making catcalls and wolf whistles as they both groaned in amused frustration.

"Kids these days." Growled Red, throwing a glare their way before pulling the giggling woman back toward their group.

It wasn't until they were back at Stratos's apartment that Rosalie grew weary of their game. She now somehow wanted him to take her lingerie. She was dying to know how, when, and were he would do so.

Raymond's confident face held a predatory grin as she strode into the lounge, effectively cornering him this time.

"To the victor the spoils." She laughed that tinkling laugh, her hands reaching to caress his neck.

Red ached for want of her. His whole body felt like a live wire, crackling and sparking with heat. He wanted to take her and ravage her till they both couldn't stand, but he was closing in on the long game.

What he wanted was one thing, but what he needed, truly, deeply needed was another issue entirely. He could table his wants for a moment longer, the greater prize seemingly within reach.

"Since Civetta not only lost but came in last, I think I should get two prizes." Chuckled Raymond brazenly, stretching his luck as far as it would go.

"Oh is that so?" Laughed Rosalie, "What, are you going to take your fedora back while you're at it?"

"No." He conceded, "I've resigned myself to the fact that I will never get that particular Borsalino back. It belongs with your little turquoise jumpsuit."

Rosalie's eyes danced in good humor, "Then what could I possibly offer you, darling?"

"I want an answer." Red rumbled, tilting his head back to look up at the woman.

She continued stroking his body, slowly, gently, her brow furrowing in confusion. "To what? You haven't asked a question."

Raymond held her eyes masterfully. "What is it that has kept you from me?"

She stopped all movement, her grey eyes widening. "W-what?"

He grasped her small hands, pulling them back down his chest. "We both have our reasons for denying ourselves what we so obviously desire." He crooned, "I know my reason is to keep you safe from what's coming for me, but I don't know yours."

Rosalie hesitated, his request leaving her open and vulnerable. Horace had urged her to pursue the possibility, God knows she wanted to.

"I don't want to hurt you." She admitted quietly, "I don't want to be used against you." Her eyes were so heart-warmingly kind as she cupped his cheek. "I want to be with you, very much, but I don't know how we could do that when I could be a terrible liability for you."

"My darling girl, you are already a liability for me." Raymond sighed in relief, Dembe was right, her response was better than he could have possibly imagined. She had no qualms about his life as a criminal, held no concerns about her safety with him.

Her only worry was a romantic relationship could make her a point of weakness for him.

Raymond could work with that.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, suspense burning him from the inside out.

"Of course." Rosalie said automatically, the instantaneous response taking even herself by surprise.

"Do you believe I can and would do anything I felt necessary to keep you safe?"

Her eyes held his confidently. "I do."

"Then why aren't we together?" His voice stressed the question, as though they were committing a cardinal sin by denying themselves what they so obviously needed. The deep green eyes watched her avidly, waiting for her response.

"I'm afraid, Raymond, terrified, really." She confessed, her head tilting down, the slate eyes unable to meet his. "You and I know better than anyone how dangerous this could be."

Red lobbied passionately. "Give me a chance to prove I can protect you, that I can be something good and kind and loving, for you."

The young woman's brow furrowed and she lifted her soft hands to cradle his face, guiding his gaze to hers. "Raymond, there is not a doubt in my mind that you already are all of those things." She whispered, willing him to see what she saw in him. He should believe he was something good and kind and loving regardless of her involvement. He didn't need to prove anything to her.

The conviction in her voice convinced Raymond he was right to pursue her.

He had a seemingly boundless, formidable empire and a vicious reputation. He could protect her, care for her, love her better than any other. Given the chance, he was certain he could calm her fears and give her a life as vibrant and wild as she was.

There was just one last question he needed answered.

"What if I told you everything about me is a lie?" He asked, wording the question most carefully.

Rosalie shrugged nonchalantly, "I would say that makes two of us."

She wasn't a stranger to a murky past, the keeper of one herself. She would never begrudge him his secrets the same way he wouldn't begrudge her hers.

"It wouldn't bother you?" prodded Red, "If we were together, in every sense of the word, could you honestly say you wouldn't need to know the truth about who I was, someday?"

"Yes" she said sincerely, rounding the chair and perching herself comfortably on his lap.

She continued, "Does your past change the way you feel about me? Does it somehow diminish your interest, your desire? Does it lessen how much you care for me?"

The statement had the man gaping at her, a lone brow quirked in astonishment.

No one, not one single person had ever responded to this question in such a way.

"No." He said, his deep voice firm and sincere.

"Then, and I hate to sound so cavalier, who you were is of very little consequence to me."

Rosalie's thumb traced his jaw tenderly, her eyes softening as her other hand reached up to card through his hair. "I know the man I see every day." She murmured gently.

"I know the man who occupies my bed most nights."

The green eyes flickered heatedly along the delicate line of her shoulders.

The look made her smile warmly. "Surprising though it may be, I know you well."

She continued her gentle caresses, her voice the very definition of sincerity. "I know when your appetite is poor, if I accidentally toss blackberries into my oatmeal, you will still steal them for me."

The comment made him break out into a wide smile and a devilish chuckle, terribly fond memories of Amsterdam running through his mind.

She warmed to her explanation, "I know you like cashmere, but only in scarves, the linings of gloves, and those sweaters I got you. I also know you have a soft spot for animals, which you make no attempt to hide."

Her amusement diminished slightly, replaced with something vulnerable and honest. "I know you consider your enemies' families off limits, though you said you have them watched, I know you would never lay a finger on them. I know you're endlessly chivalrous, wooing women with your old fashioned manners and style, whether you intend to or not."

She reached to grasp his hand, cradling the larger appendage in her own small ones.

Raymond watched, enchanted as she lifted it gently, placing a feather light kiss to his palm, her thumb brushing back and forth across the surface.

"I know if there were any such thing as honour among thieves, it would begin and end with you."

Rosalie felt a tightness in her chest as the words washed over the man holding her. She drank in his response, the way his eyelashes fluttered and his whole body seemed to heave a sigh of relief, of happiness.

She placed her cheek in his outstretched hand, sighing contentedly at the way he cupped it so gently, so perfectly.

"I may not know your past, where you were born, or the man you once were. But I know this Raymond Reddington." She insisted, placing her palm to his chest.

"I know you the way a woman should know a lover." Her lips caressed the last word beautifully.

Raymond felt a tremor of delight ripple through his body.

The reaction had Rosalie radiating with warmth and affection in his lap.

"It doesn't matter what your name was, what your name is." She laughed that tinkling laugh, "Howe, Kershaw, Donnelly, whatever you're going by today, I'm enamoured with the man beneath the names."

The man's heart pounded with a steady rhythm of hope. Raymond immediately closed the distance between them, holding Rosalie as tightly as possible to his broad frame. A large hand threaded through her blonde tresses, holding her to him as he kissed her with every ounce of burning hunger he had been holding back.

Rosalie matched his passion, happily moulding to his touch, taking what he freely gave, offering what she had to give.

They stayed in their passionate tangle of lips and tongues for some time, finally breaking the spell when their need for oxygen won out.

"No more games." Raymond gasped, not relinquishing his hold on her in the slightest.

Rosalie nodded, "No more games." she agreed.

"Then you and I are going to pursue this. A relationship. Agreed?"

The request was spoken with such a wonderful finality, it had Rosalie nodding before he could finish.

Raymond claimed her lips again, revelling in the moment of her acquiescence.

Finally, he had her.

The little woman happily wriggled in his grasp, getting as close to him as possible.

A thought occurred to Raymond, and he reluctantly parted from her lips to clarify.

"You do realize this means we are sleeping in our own beds for a while."

Rosalie's crestfallen face actually made the man laugh.

"Why on earth would we do that?" She asked, "We've been sleeping in the same bed all this time."

"Yes, but I intend to do this the right way." He explained prodding the delicate nose which was scrunched at this revolting development.

"We're criminals, we don't have to do anything the 'right' way." She insisted, her tone one of utmost dismay.

"You know that's not true." He laughed, placing a smattering of gentler kisses along her neck.

"Besides," he growled, enjoying the shiver running along her body, "Imagine how good it's going to feel when we finally do return to the same bed."

Rosalie mewled softly, still not convinced of his plan, his mouth distracting her from the issue.

"I still don't see the point in separating if we are going to be dating anyway."

A large hand crept into her curls, fisting the silky strands and gently tugging to expose more of her sensitive flesh to his attention.

"Because…" he sucked on her pulse point, "I have been very much looking forward to seducing you."

A sweet little gasp leapt from her mouth followed by a husky moan.

Raymond committed the sweet spot he'd found to memory and catalogued the noise she made for his enjoyment later.

"I can say with utmost confidence, you've already achieved your goal." she groaned, her hips unconsciously rocking against his pelvis.

"Hmm… perhaps." he chuckled darkly, pressing his rock hard erection against her. "But it's not quite to my satisfaction yet."

Rosalie whimpered at his words, wondering how long he would torment her like this.

"I like a woman to be wet, aching, and trembling with want when I take her to bed." He purred in her ear.

The playful green eyes of Raymond Reddington glinted a dark cunning as they bore down on Rosalie.

Her body did indeed tremble under his confident gaze.

"Hey Rosie, I've got-" Horace walked into the lounge, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the pair in a rather compromising position.

"New rule." Grumbled Rosalie, "Knock before entering."

"New rule." Horace roared a barking laugh, "Don't get it on in shared spaces when there are literally dozens of people in the house."

A parade of people started filtering into the room, forcing the amorous pair to separate.

Rosalie complained at length, garnering a wink and a sly smile from her companion.

Later that night…

Raymond let Rosalie think she was safe.

She had gone to bed a short while earlier, the men had continued to celebrate in the lounge.

Red was now the last man standing, Dembe having gone to bed moments earlier.

Rosalie had watched him carefully as she left, the obvious question in her gaze.

He had allowed her to think he forgot his earlier promise.

He most certainly had not.

The criminal purely lay in wait, drinking his scotch patiently and allowing her to be lulled into a false sense of security.

As the clock struck midnight, Red stood and set his glass on the desk with a heavy thunk .

His slow, deliberate footsteps echoed down the long hallway to Rosalie's room.

Part of him wanted her to hear him coming, to hear the sound of him prowling toward her in the dark.

Another part of him wanted her to be taken by surprise, to wake to his broad frame poised above her with no means of escape.

Both were incredibly titillating fantasies, stirring the man's cock to life.

As Raymond reached the door, he stopped to listen. No noise could be heard within.

He stealthily reached out and grasped the handle, turning it silently and opening the door without a sound.

Rosalie lay atop the blankets, sleeping peacefully in an emerald green silk negligee.

Raymond flashed a predatory grin, closing the door silently behind him. He toed off his shoes before stalking toward the sleeping figure on the bed.

Making his way to the foot of the bed, Raymond carefully knelt on the mattress.

Slowly, his hand traced a burning trail up one of her legs.

The sleeping woman let out a pleased mew, wriggling slightly beneath him.

Red smiled in the dark, leaning down to place his warm lips along her knee and up her thigh, nipping the supple flesh as he continued his trek.

His large hands bracketed her outer thighs, sliding painstakingly slowly up the soft skin.

Rosalie stirred as he reached the swell of her hips, his hands gliding easily beneath the hem of her negligee.

The tickling sensation of his fingertips along her sensitive skin had the woman jolting awake with a gasp.

Rosalie was inundated with the masculine scent and palpable presence of one Raymond Reddington.

The man knelt poised over her, his fingers swirling teasing circles over her hips.

"Raymond…" she hummed, hoping he wasn't just a dream.

"I believe you have something of mine." Red growled, the rumble of his voice vibrating deliciously along her every nerve ending.

He had come to claim what was his.

His hands continued their teasing strokes as he cocked his head at her.

"Tell me, darling, are you wanting?"

"Yes, Raymond." She breathed, watching in fascination as his wandering inched the hem of her night dress slowly upward.

"Do you ache for me?"

"Yes." She admitted readily, any pride a forgotten entity as the garment's edge hovered precariously, just barely covering her panties.

Red's visage turned incredibly dark as he slid a large hand up the back of one of her toned, trembling legs.

"Let's find out if you're as wet as I think you are. Hmm?" Raymond purred, palming her bare ass cheek. He kneaded the pert mound before bending forward and kissing her lips. Her mouth opened to him and her hot little tongue happily danced with his, stroking him in wicked fashion. Red broke the contact, peppering her cheeks with light caresses, then her neck, then the valley between her breasts, before shifting his weight back toward the foot of the bed.

With a groan of longing, Red twitched the hem of the negligee upward, exposing the prize he had spent all day thinking about.

Rosalie let out a soft squeal of surprise at being all but bared to his lascivious attention. She reached instinctively to cover herself, but a large, powerful hand snatched her wrist before she could shield herself.

Raymond's eyes burned into her as he gently tilted her hand upward, placing his lips to her palm and wrist. "No." He commanded in a soft, deadly voice.

The sound flitted through the woman's mind, bending her to his whim. She nodded minutely, relaxing her body and opening to his exploration.

The man practically purred his approval, kissing her wrist once more before placing the limb gently to the side.

Rosalie's breath was coming in shivering gasps and her nerves sparked as Red settled between her legs.

When Raymond looked up to meet her gaze, she saw his pupils were blown wide and there was a wildfire lurking in their depths as he leaned forward.

Without taking his eyes off of hers, Raymond placed a scorching, teasing kiss to the snow white garment.

Rosalie couldn't hold back a shocked squeal at feeling his hot breath and his lips brush against her. "R-Raymond" She exhaled shakily, her hips bucking at the unexpected action.

An animalistic growl rumbled through Red's chest as he felt her quake beneath him. He nuzzled the lace adoringly, drawing another helpless moan from her throat. Raymond scented her arousal through the minuscule slip of lace, his mouth watering at his future plans for the sweet little mound.

Red felt his resolve teetering on a razor's edge and pulled away from the valley of with no small amount of effort. He tugged the hem of her negligee back down, hiding the tempting triangle from his sight.

Returning to the purpose of his visit, the hand palming her derrière shifted, a finger sneaking beneath the band of her lingerie before pulling the tiny slip of lace past her curves in one swift movement.

The motion elicited a surprised gasp from Rosalie as she felt the cool evening air ghost along her suddenly bared sex.

Raymond cupped the backs of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, shifting her further up the bed.

Rosalie voiced her despair at the loss of contact. Her chin lifted, seeking him out as he laid her back amongst the pillows.

Red leaned into the action, languidly exploring her mouth to his heart's content as she settled into the plush surface.

Again he pulled away, his face a heated, devilish smirk. The green eyes held hers without blinking as Raymond's warm hands slid along the soft expanse of her thighs, his fingers curling around the minuscule garment hidden beneath the hem of her night gown.

He shimmied the item further down her limbs, moaning brokenly when the alabaster panties came into view, completely parted from their previous companion.

He memorized their every detail, the cut, the intricate lace pattern, the startling colour contrast between the fabric and the woman's skin.

Rosalie lifted her feet, her lips parted in a small 'o' of aroused disbelief as Red claimed the token of her affection. He skirted the white lace all the way down her lovely legs before finally dangling it from one finger for her viewing pleasure.

It was certainly an erotic sight, the Concierge of Crime holding her minuscule piece of lingerie possessively. Raymond eyed her steadily as he brought the scrap of lace to his lips.

Rosalie watched with a tiny gasp of intrigue as the man kissed the lace. The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air again, stirring Raymond to ever-increasing flights of fantasy.

"You are a wet, wanton little thing, aren't you Rosalie?"

His voice was even deeper, growling and gravelled as his attentive gaze burned along her skin.

Rosalie mewed piteously, the valley between her legs throbbing without mercy. The blonde head couldn't help but nod, a vibrant blush staining her cheeks.

Fuck .

Red hadn't expected that despondent little nod. He was quickly becoming enthralled with how responsive she was.

The confirmation of her need spoke to the primal foundations of his body. The virile man within wanted desperately to heed the call, to satisfy her every yearning desire until she wanted for nothing and no one but him.

The fathoms-deep grey eyes held his imploringly. She was aching so perfectly, the pang of arousal in her body outstripped all else.

"I know," he purred his sympathy, the quivering of her thighs beckoning to him. "We've waited so long, and no amount of… self indulgence has been enough to satisfy, has it, my little dove?"

Rosalie shook her head quietly, her wide eyes shining brightly as another tingle of arousal skated along her body. She was rapidly becoming attached to his chosen endearment. Something about it made her feel safe, adored, and oh so very warm.

Raymond advanced slowly, bringing his body flush with hers, his bulk pinning her beneath him.

Instinctively, Rosalie wrapped her legs around his waist, wriggling in pleasure at the feel of his heavy weight settling on top of her.

Red wrapped an arm around her, the other braced against the soft surface of the bed. His hand dropped to grasp one rounded globe of her backside, arching her hips up into his.

The action brushed her bare sex against the man's cloth-covered erection, pulling a needy cry from the woman's throat.

"Let's take care of that, hmm?" Red purred enticingly, nibbling her neck as he rut the length of his cock against her hot, wet center.

Rosalie gasped, arching her hips to meet his. "Please, Raymond."

Her soft, sweet voice was going to be the death of him. The man would burn the world to the ground for the sake of hearing her repeat the request.

'Please, Raymond.'

It made his shaft twitch in delighted agony.

His hips rolled expertly against Rosalie's, teasing her lust-addled body with what she wanted.

He wouldn't give it to her, not yet anyway.

Raymond had been honest when he said he was looking forward to seducing her. He wanted to woo her, to properly bed her, to earn the right to claim every quaking inch of her for his own.

Red increased his efforts, shifting so his stocky thighs were flush with hers, spreading them wide so he could further his assault on her sensitive flesh.

Rosalie writhed at the added pressure, her body creeping ever closer to release. Her breathing was shallow and laboured, her entire being concerned only with achieving their climax.

"God, Raymond." She mewled, running her hands up and down his broad chest, taking comfort in his solidity.

Raymond growled in pleasure when he felt her arousal wetting through his trousers. The sweet scent of sex clung to the air, spurring him on.

Red could not recall being so invested in a dry hump since he had been a horny teen. He grinned at the ridiculous thought, thinking the younger version of himself would be appalled to know he'd bypassed a wet and wanting woman's plea to be fucked for the sake of dating.

Rosalie's gasps sped up, tearing all other thought from Red's mind.

She was getting close, her desperate need finally being tended to.

Without warning, Raymond pushed up off the bed, removing himself entirely from her writhing body.

" No " whined Rosalie, her body crying out for the stimulation it had lost.

His eyes bored into hers as he lifted a familiar looking item from the foot of the bed, dropping it gently in Rosalie's lap.

It was her towel from their morning altercation in the shower.

Raymond leaned into her sweet, shocked face.

"You are a formidable little hellion," he told her fondly, "A merciless, incredible tease. But…"

His voice was reverent as he eyed her body openly. "Turnabout is fair play, my dear."

Red reached a hand down to thumb the tight nipple straining against the silk of her night gown, making Rosalie hiss in pleasure.

"I'm out of reasons to behave, Rosalie." He growled heatedly, watching his thumb pluck at the little nub. "You've gotten yourself into quite the predicament."

Rosalie purred her delight at his words, arching wantonly into his touch.

Red continued, "I'm going to take you, charm you, seduce you as I see fit. I'm going to do so until there is no question in your mind that I am the man you want. Agreed?"

"Yes" she mewled, her body bowing toward him, willing him to tease her more.

"Eight O'Clock tomorrow, pet." He murmured gently, reaching to stroke her cheek.

"It's a date."

He turned and strode out of the room without another word, leaving Rosalie panting and utterly shell-shocked in his wake.