Author notes: I blame 'The Quiet Storm'; those in the know, just know.
Milan, Italy - Teatro alla Scala
Quickly moving through the backstairs of the famous Teatro alla Scala Opera House, Cosette makes her way to the rendezvous point deep inside the theater. After a few minutes, modern walls give way to brick and layered plaster. She encounters two huge armed guards at an ornate wooden double door. All nod in greeting before she clearly states the password: Giuseppe Piermarini.
Both men nod as they open the doors. Music from the above floors, clinking glass, and laughter filter into the small corridor. Inside is an example of 18th-century luxury and affluence with delicate fresco art, plush furniture, and rare paintings. The lights highlight the best places as people weave through the inner halls.
An open bar sits within the furthest alcove from the door as a buffet table set not too far from the items for auction. Quickly checking in her coat, Cosette can taste the wealth and power in these halls with other obnoxious scents of expensive perfumes and hair dye. Ignoring the flowing champagne and other top-shelf liquor, she blends into the elite crowd.
Seeing her target, she waves to get the auctioneer's or his assistant's attention. Junaid Orazaki sighs in relief once he spots her. The tall Pakistanian, clad in the latest season black Brooks Brothers three-piece suit with matching black shirt, teal tie, and teal handkerchief, opens his arms, kissing her temple, speaking in Italian, "Oh, thank god, Etta. You look ravishing in this dress." Slowly spinning her around, the teal crystals on her black cross-halter mid-dress catch the light. "I thought we were fucked when Pascal called saying he was stranded in Dubai, and I couldn't find another interpreter. Well, one I know that can trust." Smiling up at her dear friend, "You called so frantic we couldn't nail down the details. Luckily your wife knows you well. Inyana sent the contract and this ensemble for tonight. But I want to confirm if you still have the twin tessen phoenix fans I'm interested in." Pivoting to the left, he pulls his mobile to confirm his inventory and availability of the item. A beautifully petite woman dressed in a traditional floor-length dark teal salwar suit joins them. Warmly the women greet.
"Etta, thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope your flight went well. Turning her around, she clucks her tongue. I chose right. Junaid was worried this was too bland. I argued it has just the right amount of eye-catching but subtle. Keep everything." Widely smiling, squeezing her friend's hands, "You know how to butter me up. Besides, I've already seen my family and go home in two days." Junaid nods and swipes the sale and consultation fee transfer, "Done. Now let me show you where you will stand." Slyly smiling, "And yes, I need you to drive up the sales."
Coyly, she counters as she checks her account on her mobile for proof of the transfer. "Only if you get at least a fifteen commission."
He snickers at her audacity, "Ha, little vixen, seven percent and only if over $250,000."
Poking him on the shoulder, she hisses, "A solid ten percent. I spotted a fake, and it isn't old enough to pass as an authentic forgery."
Inyana scowls at Junaid, "You let your cousin submit a piece, or did your mother pressure you again?"
Snatching Cosette away from his wife/assistant, he whispers, "Twelve, if you can get me out of this."
She was snickering as she moved through the crowd toward the fake embroidered Joseon handkerchiefs. "Deal! You will say it's just for display. Your website will post the extensive collection at a later date."
Junaid calls over the attendants to alter the auction table under Cosette's direction; nodding in agreement, they part. Cosette grabs Inyana for information on the bidders and what pieces they want to drive up.
Quickly they make a plan of action for possible targets with a brief background. Inyana points to the people Cosette's services are most needed as she goes and puts out another fire.
Joining the group of primarily old mafia matriarchs, Cosette quickly assesses the small group: the Altamuras, Gionata, and Cassanos are friendly, but the Andreolis are stiff. Two Asian males, adopted sons, stand with the Cassano women. An older Asian woman and possible daughter stand to the side just outside the circle.
With a smile and open body language, the lull in their conversation gave her a chance to introduce herself in English. "Hello, I hope everyone is enjoying themselves. The host informed me there was a need for an interpreter. My name is Cosette Mastronomoco."
All stop calculating what type of threat she was. Standing at 5ft 9 in heels, 165 lbs, with dark brown skin, she knew what she looked like and reveled in it. Height equals stature, and some men love curves. The hairstylist's swept her medium-length hair into an updo with a bang to the side, with teal dangling crystal clips, smoking eyes, and dark-red lips. The women in her family taught her cosmetics and clothes are the armor of many women. Like the colors in the animal kingdom, it identifies your rank. Praise be to Mac makeup and Gucci gowns with Dolce and Gabbana accessories.
The taller of the two men asked, "Italian?"
Amused, Cosette coyly smiles, replying in Italian, "I doubt you need an Italian interpreter, sir." Turning to the Asian women in the group, with a reserved tone, she questions in Chinese, "Putonghua? Yue?" The younger of the two nods at the second suggestion.
Quickly Cosette asks for likes and curiosities. In a lovely display of this hierarchy's elegant power, the most senior of the mafioso introduced the group: Marsina Cassano with her children Marina, Vincenzo, and Ettore. Her guest Hou Hanying with her daughter Teng Zan is on vacation from China. Chiara with her sister Gabriella Altamuras, Bianca Gionata and her daughter Elena, and Sofia Andreolis with her niece Ginevra. The conversation within the group quickly became less frosty as she interpreted between the women In Italian and Chinese. Teasing the small group with brief stories, some embellishment with a grain of truth. Cosette guides the group around the rooms discussing the theatre's architecture and the fresco art, only to end at the auction table for opinions and observations of the art pieces.
The women look over the pieces as the attendants assist in picking up the items for a closer look. The same man approached her, "My apologies if I offended you." Turning to speak directly to Ettore in a lecturing tone, "Mr. Cassano. No, offense was given, so no offense was taken. But next time you want to flirt. Don't, while someone is on the clock."
Inyana comes to her side, whispering in English, "Etta, we are going to start soon." Looking at the stage, Cosette nods in acknowledgment. Inyana curiously looks at the men before leaving. Opening her clutch, Cosette extracts a business card. "This is where we exchange cards."
Not hiding behind his drink, Vincenzo snickers as he turns to watch his family. Ettore looks amused and exasperated; catching himself by surprise, he opens his mobile and then gestures it to her. "For when you are not on the clock."
She takes a good look at the man trying to flirt with her. Mr. Ettore Cassano wasn't arrogant; instead, he was protective. Stacked was just a word as he wore a tailor-made suit, jade cufflinks, Armani shoes, and half sangtu with a jade tortoise thong. Complexion with just enough sun so he doesn't look sickly, definitely polished, cultured, family oriented. And most importantly, highly developed calluses on the knuckles and near forefinger, a dead giveaway to combat and weapons training.
She could imagine the long hours of concentration, frustration, and strain, remolding his mind and body until the weapon became a natural part of him.
Well...
Fuck!
Regretfully she hands him back his phone, "Sorry, handsome. As tempting as you are. That is a hard, No." Winking at him, she walks away.
Pleasantly surprised, he smiles. Looking down as Nonna wraps her hand around his bicep, she questions. "What did she show you, Nipote?"
His cheeks pinken, "Nothing."
He starts to feel nervous. Both Nonna and noona have an evil glint in their eyes. He doesn't care what any man says. Females are more dangerous.
Hyung-Vin pats his back in mock pity, "Dongsaeng, my poor dongsaeng. You're growing up, young man" He shoves Vincenzo as Marina cackles. "Ignore them, Nipote. Tell me your thoughts on my selection." Gladly escorts Nonna to the seating area as his siblings make fun of him.
Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the auction room. Tonight even will start in the next five minutes. (Italian)
As the auction begins, all take their place like a well-oiled machine. Junaid takes the podium as the attendants gather the art pieces. Cosette stands to the side for all to see, raising her hands, signaling she is ready.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for attending tonight's auction. For those with impaired hearing, please look to my left for our interpreter, Cosette Mastronomoco. She will use Italian Sign Language or LIS for those who don't know. The display behind me will focus on the of during the bidding. Below, the item will displace the most recent bidding amount. Remember, there is offsite electronic bidding. Note, ladies, and gentlemen all final bids are non-negotiable. Now onto the auction. For your pleasure and purchase power, twenty-four lovely historical items are available. This black pearl and diamond necklace was once worn by Elizabeth Taylor and gifted by her fifth and sixth husband, Richard Burton. Yes, Ms. Taylor was scandalously married twice to one man. Starting bid at $750,000."
All the works of art were bought within seventy-five minutes of fast-talking, storytelling, and playing with people's need to covet—multiple funds transfers end in pretty trinkets wrapped in special packages handed directly to the onsite buyers, carefully selected couriers send the few offsites.
Patrons linger for another thirty minutes, sipping on free drinks and eating finger food taking in their prizes, gossiping, and being gossiped about. As the last person leaves, the staff quickly breakdown the operation. Food, glassware, cutlery, and liquor are packed separately and shipped to different locations. Left items in the coatroom are labeled and loaded to a third facility. Always the last to leave, Junaid and Inyana try to wave Cosette off for the rest of the night. But she knows there will be family drama for the fake art pieces. By the time they leave, it is two in the morning.
Bulgari Hotel - 3 AM
Walking through the hotel doors, Teng Zan and her mother sleepily cling to Ettore as he maneuvers to the elevator. The skeleton staff sympathized as he repeatedly pulled the young woman off his arm. Pressing the up button, Ettore counts in Korean out loud.
Annoyed was an hour ago now he was boarding on pissed. His nonna was up to meddling again. Loving Nonna Marsina, but she sometimes puts him to the task. Dropping off Hou Hanying and her daughter Teng Zan is a simple plan when the mother or younger daughter isn't interested—inappropriately touching him, smearing their loud perfume on his clothes. Their high-pitched voices grated on his nerves. The utter look of disgust was hard to hide.
"Hmm, such a savage look there, Handsome. Need help with the limpets?" It took a moment for the haze to clear and for his mind to recognize someone was speaking Korean to him. Just before the doors open, he sees Cosette's pained reflection. Slumping in relief, he utters, "Yes."
After stepping into the elevator, the women try to kiss him. In a sharp tone, Cosette yells in Chinese, "Yah! You hussies, stop harassing this poor man. I will tell your hostess of this indignity. I'm sure she will not appreciate how you abuse her hospitality." The women, blinking owlishly, notice a fourth person with a raised mobile recording them. Comically they look between Ettore and Cosette, then start to apologize. "I don't want to hear your faceless apologies. This young man was gracious enough to escort you to your room so that you could be safe. Instead, you try to exploit his mildness and respect for women. I feel disgusted because of your wantonness." The elevator dings before opening. As they clamor out and scramble to their door, Cosette leans against the elevator door, recording them entering and closing the hotel room. Smiling, she stops the recording and hands him her mobile. "Saving Face is an art form. Send the recording to your number."
Releasing the door, she hits the top floor. As Ettore enters his contact number, Cosette yawns, then ask in Korean, "What's your name?" He must be tired as he just replied, "Park Kwan Tae," sends the recording. Then watches her, contemplating what to do next. The elevator dings, "Come on, Hyung, you should rest before venturing back out."
Sighing, she wiggles her fingers at him. It dawns on him he still has her mobile. He hands over the device, and she opens the hotel app unlocking her door; just before she crosses the threshold, Ettore stops her. Bending down, he gasps her ankle, gently taking off one heel, then the other. Placing them just inside the doorway, he removes his shoes and places them beside hers.
Straightening, he notices she has lost two inches as she walks into the room; opening the closet, she turns with a hanger in her hands. He closes and locks the door.
As Cosette begins to ask a question, Ettore steals her breath with the sweetest kiss. Nibbling, tasting, sampling, he scrambles any lingering thoughts. Cosette pulls away, licking her lips, breathing hard, slightly tugging on his clothes. With the tips of his fingers, he caresses her cheek, jawline down her neck, "I'm not Hyung, never your Hyung. You will never be noona. Aein."
Her hands aren't idle, unfastening buttons, pulling off the offensive material once slack. After unzipping, her dress was tugged twice before coming off. The corset, with matching panties and stockings, was delightful but had to come off. Ettore needed to be saturated in her scent, her earthy musk. Hear her whimpers, moans, and screams. Feel her nails on his back as he fucked her into every surface of this room. He understood this was a one-time opportunity and would take full advantage.
Cosette freed Ettore's hair from its bindings as she bit his lips, smoothing the sting with her tongue. Every time she did it, he would growl and grind harder. His body encouraged her to push, alternating between nipping and placing open kisses on his skin. Long licks on his hips, his fingers borrow into her hair as she kisses the head of his cock, pausing for a moment to look into his eyes, smirking, daring him to look away, then sucking deep into her mouth.
"Fuck!" Dropping his head into the bed, his eyes close, forcing himself to breathe as he arches into the rhythm of her mouth.
The vibration of her moans, the soft scrape of her teeth, kneading fingers into his thighs. "Oh, Handsome, you taste even better than I imagined." His hips involuntarily jerked up as she relaxed her throat.
"Aein!"
Pulling her up and to the end of the bed, her skin is flush and glistening. Lips swollen, eyes hungry for him, "No, later. I want you to scream first." He grabs a condom, quickly rolling on the protection. Spreading her legs wide, aligning with her opening, he pushes into her. She was such a tight fit, taking all of him beautifully. Licking her neck, he brings her legs higher, changing the angle.
Moaning long and low, she arches into his sweet invasion. Threading his fingers into hers, he pins her down, snapping his hips forward, forcing her to gasp. He was not going to play fair.
Ettore tries to keep her immobile, to control and dominate.
Cosette would find a way to move, wiggle and distract.
Her kisses consume him. Her soft sighs and whimpers fed his ego. He could tell the first climax of the night, day, whatever the hell, was a surprise. Suddenly he felt her fluttering around his cock, her body tightening even more, milking him, causing a sweet agony as he delayed his release. Her whimpers became a song ending in a breathy broken whisper.
Han-so-hmm.
A facsimile of his birth name sounded like a benediction.
How was he supposed to handle that? When the only thing he could do was make sure her body never forgot him.
Ruin her for any other man.