La Vita Dolce

***Sorry for the delay darlings. I've had a crisis in my love life and it has given me a killer case of writer's block. My "Gianni" and I have been having issues...sweet. Hope i'm not letting you down with this one. It's a longer chapter. Not so much "sexy time" and a little bit of violence. Eh, enjoy I hope.***

The hotel clerk stared at her as she slapped the euro notes down on the counter. "I need a room."

His mouth opened and closed. He continued to stare, taking in her disheveled appearance. "I need identification."

Natasha rolled her eyes and fished a 100-euro note from her pocket and thrust it at him. "No ID, just a room."

He looked around nervously before slipping the bill into his shirt pocket. He handed her a key. His eyes roved over her face, taking in the tearstains, and his voice softened. "Is there anything else you need, Signorina?"

"Yeah." She handed him her car keys. "Get my car." She handed him another hundred euro note.

She'd driven overnight. She was too exhausted for politeness.

She climbed the winding staircase to her room and set her shopping bags inside the door. It was a moderate sized room. Nowhere near as large as her previous accommodations but she could care less.

She looked down at herself and groaned. She still wore Gianni's shirt. It was stained with his blood. She unbuttoned it with trembling fingers and tossed it into the trashcan. She slipped out of her skirt and put that in the bin too. Her underwear and bra joined the pile.

She went to the bathroom and stepped into the shower and scoured herself until the steam became so thick it made it hard to breath. She dried herself and slipped into a pair of white cotton underwear, then walked to the balcony. She threw open the doors and looked out over the coastline. Waves crashed against the beach far beneath her window. Winding stairway wound it's its way down the sheer cliff wall. The lights of Sorrento glimmered and across the water she could see Naples. She looked up at the stars and hugged herself. Dad, you were right. I don't know what I've gotten myself into.

She closed the balcony doors behind her before turning out the lights and sliding between the covers. She gazed up at the ceiling, tracing one spindly crack that marred the eggshell white surface. She felt like crying but could not. She had cried too much recently. Instead, her insides were twisting themselves in knots, pressing against her chest, hindering her breath. It was long before exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a troubled sleep. ***

It took her a moment to realize where she was when she first opened her eyes. The knowledge hit her hard and all she wanted to do was retreat to sleep. But no matter how she tried she could not close her eyes. Each time she tried she saw Gianni bloodied and pale in her mind's eye.

With a frustrated groan she slid out of bed. After taking a hot shower she examined the contents of the shopping bags; a new suitcase, a few days worth of clothes, accessories, and a few new pairs of shoes. She'd paid cash. No one could follow her credit card trail.

She pulled on a tight-fitting white t-shirt, distressed denim jeans, and her puma tennis shoes. She grabbed her purse and sunglasses and headed out the door.

It was midday and warm as Natasha walked down slope towards the center of town. She kept her head down as she walked. Two men on scooters honked at her and whistled as they drove by.

Natasha walked along the street looking in shop windows not really seeing anything. She sat down in the town square at a sidewalk café. She sat her head in her hands.

"Signorina?"

"Padron?" She looked up to see a waiter.

He smiled at her, his eyes assessing her. "May I get you something?"

"Oh," She looked down at the menu and ordered smoked salmon. She ate and left a generous tip. She went in and out of stores buying more clothes and necessities. She flagged down a taxi and the driver helped her load her things into the trunk.

The bellhop took her bags to her room and she flopped onto the bed fully clothed. The sun was setting as she fell asleep.

A dark shadow fell over her as she slept. A black-gloved hand trailed over her collar bone and down to trace the lacy edge of her bra over the generous swell of her breast.

Natasha's eyes slid open. A dark figure stood over her. She shot up and opened her mouth a scream but a hand covered her lips muffling her screams. He pushed her back down on the bed, applying pressure to her abdomen.

She squirmed but he was too strong.

He leaned over her and she saw his face in the moonlight. Gianni.

She stopped struggling and stared up at him.

"Please, bella. Don't scream." He said quietly. "I only want to talk. I promise I won't harm you. Do you understand?"

She nodded fiercely. Her mouth was dry with fear.

"You won't cry out?"

She shook her head.

He took his hand away, a mere inch at first, then all together. She breathed hard as if she had just sprinted a mile. She screamed as loud as she could, the sound echoing off the walls of the small hotel room.

Gianni clamped his hand over her mouth. He sighed. "Natasha...please."

Her fear was turning to anger. She growled against his hand.

"Please listen to me."

She roughly pushed his hand away taking him off guard. "Listen to you?" she hissed. "Why the hell should I listen to anything you have to say?"

The stared at each other a moment.

His voice was low. "Because I'll tell you the truth."

Her brows drew together and she opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and fell silent.

He ran a hand through his dark locks, looking sheepish. "The Angioini's and Pezzini's have been at each other's throats for years...decades; over territory, business negotiations, they'd fight over anything and everything. Many times it got violent. The police can't do anything. They straddle both sides of the feud. They're on the both of our family's payrolls." Gianni took a deep breath. "My father and your uncle are the head's of the Angiolini and Pezzini families. Right now there's a huge dispute going on over port space on the Mediterranean. Things have gotten ugly. People are dying. Your uncle is in hiding. Alejandro was supposed to protect you, keep you out of sight, and keep your name from being associated with the Pezzinis. Your uncle knew that my father would try to get to him though you."

She stared at him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she processed everything he was telling her. "So you were just trying to get to me?"

He touched her cheek. She flinched and he dropped his hand. "Natasha," he breathed, "That first day I saw you, I wanted you. And after that first night, I..." his voice trailed off. "I started to fall in love for you. I didn't know you were a Pezzini until you told me so."

She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand.

"I was supposed to kill you. I was at the Byron to make a hit. I didn't know that hit was supposed to be you. I came into your bedroom and saw you lying there. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I knew if I didn't finish the job myself, someone else would come after you. So I took you to my place and then Florence. I didn't think anyone knew. And then Morelli showed up. He didn't know you were there until he turned and saw you on the balcony. He still doesn't know you were there with me. That's when he sent men up to the roofs of the buildings and started shooting." He winced involuntarily.

Her voice was soft. "How did you find me?" "Tracked your cellphone."

Her voice rose several octaves. "What?!" Her mouth dropped open. "What are you, fucking Interpol?" He shrugged.

There was a knock on the door. "Signorina?"

Frowning and casting her a meaningful look, Gianni stood and went to the door. He pulled off his shirt and mussed his hair as he went. Natasha merely stared after him, dumbfounded. Natasha remained where she when she heard a voice. "I was not aware that the Signorina had a guest."

"Well, she does." Gianni's tone was irritated.

"Someone reported hearing screams. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, she's alright." Gianni answered. His voice lowered to a husky sound, tinged with a amusement. "I'd say she's better than alright actually."

"I would like to see for myself if you do not mind."

Gianni groaned, "We were kind of in the middle of something."

"I must insist, signore."

With something akin to a growl Gianni stepped back from the door and the hotel clerk entered the room. He looked at Natasha sitting upon the bed, the sheet pulled up to preserve some illusion of modesty. The clerk flushed lightly. "Are you alright, Signorina?"

Natasha met Gianni's eyes over the clerk's shoulder. She could expose him. She smiled wanly. "I'm perfectly well. Thank you so much for your concern. It's good to know you look out for your guests so thoroughly." Her voice dripped sweetness though Gianni detected a strained menace under the soft tones. His woman was not happy.

"Are you sure, Signorina?" the clerk looked at her carefully.

She smiled thinly. "Yes, I'm fine."

The clerk nodded, subdued, and turned and left the room. Gianni closed the door behind him.

Natasha looked at Gianni. He still looked pale and he moved carefully as if his wound plagued him. There was a bandage the size of her palm directly below his collarbone. She felt a twinge in her chest was torn between throwing her arms around him and the desire to do him further injury.

He sat on her bed. "Look Natasha. If I could find you, most likely, someone else can. Did you use the credit cards?"

She shook her head.

"Good. Let's go." He stood.

"Wait." Her brows drew together and she stood to stand toe to toe with him. She had to drop her head back to look into his face but she ignored the feeling of smallness. "You expect me to leave with you. After all you just told me. Are you insane? Do you think I have some sort of twisted death wish?"

He shook his head, looking down into her face and sighed. "I'm the best chance you have. You could go with Alejandro and he might take you to your uncle, maybe. Or he'll want to keep you quiet about what happened between you two. I can help you. I don't want to see you hurt. I love you."

She frowned, her face hardening although he noticed the hitch in her breath at his words.

His face softened. "You didn't mind me saying it before it before."

She averted her eyes.

He cupped her chin gently and turned her to face him. "Come with me. Let me protect you." **

Natasha shoved her new wardrobe into her newly bought suitcase. What the hell am I thinking? She zipped it closed and Gianni lifted it easily.

"Is that everything?" he asked softly.

Natasha nodded silently.

He opened the door and waited for her to precede him out of the room. She hesitated. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands were folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Natasha?"

She raised her startling eyes to him. "Why are you doing this?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?" " I don't understand. Why are you helping me? Judging from your family history and mine, you should be doing anything but helping me."

He set down the bags and closed the door. He came over to the bed and stood over her and pinned her with his eyes. His gaze was full of heat and hunger. Before she could protest, he grabbed her up from the bed with one arm, avoiding his injury and held her against the hard length of his body, her feet dangling.

He kissed her hard, putting all of his longing for her into it. There was little gentleness in it but it branded her, claimed her. He broke the kiss, holding her tightly to him for a moment, reveling in the feel of her. He then slid her slowly down his body to the floor, letting her feel his desire. His voice was husky as he said. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you. Stay with me" Gianni plundered her stunned mouth again before he released her.

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek and gently run his thumb over her lips. "If we had met under other circumstances...if I'd just been some regular guy and you..."

She slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He tentatively closed his arms around her as though he feared she might pull him away. They stood like that for what seemed like many minutes before she stepped back. "Oh hell," she shook her head. "I guess we should be going."

He grinned and picked up her bags. ***

Natasha silently prayed to God that she survived this. The Mediterranean coast was to her left as far as she could see. The only thing separating them from plunging into the sea far below was a short stone wall, no more than three feet tall. That stone wall didn't look particularly reassuring.

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut as the Mercedes sedan sped around the curves of the Amalfi drive. Gianni glanced at her "Are you alright?" his voice was strained.

She didn't open her eyes. "I know you're Italian and all but is it necessary to drive like a lunatic, like we're being chased?"

When he didn't answer she tore her eyes from the road to look at him. She caught his glance in the rearview mirror and twisted around in her seat. A black Renault was careening around the curves behind them.

"Turn around." He said softly as he took a turn and she was thrown against the door as he took a sharp turn around a blind curve.

She stared at him. "We are being chased!"

Gianni's jaw tightened. "Put your head down."

She gaped at him. "Wha—"

He wrenched a gun from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the back window. With a shriek she ducked in the front seat. Gianni was driving with one hand and looking out the back window. The Mercedes was straying into the opposing lane right into an oncoming car. Natasha grabbed the wheel and wrenched it to the right.

"Thanks." Gianni mumbled.

There was the roar of the gun, the shattering of glass, the squeal of tires, and the unmistakable crunch of metal.

Gianni turned back to face the road and shoved the gun back into its holster. Natasha tentatively raised her head and looked through the jagged glass of the back window to see smoke rising from the hood of a black Renault, its front crumpled against the stone barrier between the road and the edge of the sheer cliffs.

Natasha sat back against the seat and stared at him open-mouthed. "Why do I get the feeling you've done that before?"

Gianni said nothing but continued to stare at the road ahead. A van was stopped in the lane ahead of them. Gianni slammed on the brakes and Natasha braced herself against the dashboard as the Mercedes screeched to a halt.

The doors to the van flew open and two men, each carrying a mac-10s stepped out. They pointed their weapons at the car and walked towards the Mercedes, yelling in Italian.

Gianni carefully held up his hands. Natasha did the same. The two men came to either side of the car. The young man, taller of the two with a dark ponytail wrenched open Natasha's car door. Training the gun on Gianni. The shorter stocky man opened Gianni's door. He pulled back his the gun and struck Gianni on the side of the head. Gianni slumped over.

"No!" Natasha shrieked as the young man with the ponytail undid her seatbelt and hauled her out of the car. "No!" she struggled wildly but his arm snaked around her waist slamming the air from her lungs. She was lifted off the ground and carried towards the truck.

"Gianni!" she managed to scream. She saw him lift his head and dazedly meet her gaze momentarily before he slumped forward. She watched the short stocky man raise his weapon and point it at the windshield of the Mercedes, directly at Gianni. With a shriek she kicked out. Her toe caught the man's hand and a row of bullet holes appeared across the hood of the car.

Shrieking Natasha was dragged towards the back of the van. The sharp stab in her arm make her tense, but it was too late. Whatever they had given her hit hard and fast. Dazedly sensing the men on both sides, she struck out to her right while lifting kick to the left. Too slow. Neither blow connected with her intended and as she lost her balance and fell to her knees. She struggled to stand. God, she could barely lift her head. Then the edges of the world became dark and hazy, her strength was rapidly draining from her, and then she knew nothing. ***

It was nearly pitch black in the room when Natasha awoke with the worst headache she'd had since celebrating her twenty-first birthday at a sleazy bar in Cabo with her friends that they had discovered during a night of slumming. Moaning, she tried to remember what she'd been celebrating this time. It must have been pretty important.

She shifted, realizing she was being held. She was in Gianni's lap, nestled against his chest. Sighing in relief she snuggled against his body, closing her eyes as his fingertips lightly ran over her bare arm. A shiver coursed through her. His chin was resting on the top of her head. She sighed deeply, "Baby, what happened?"

His deep chuckle rumbled through her and she froze at the sound of the unfamiliar laughter. She stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away but he held her tightly. His lips brushed against her ear. "Ah, where are you going, little one?"

She began to struggle in earnest, he merely laughed at her efforts as he stood keeping her in his grasp.

"Put me down, you bastard," she growled as she wriggled within his grasp.

"As you wish." There was laughter in his voice.

Natasha cried out in surprise as he abruptly released her and she landed hard on her tailbone on the plush carpeted floor. She remained still, trying to see something in the darkness of the room, sensing his movements.

The light flickered on and Natasha sat blinking at the sudden change in lighting. She was in an office. To say it was opulent would have been an understatement. The room was done in deep mahogany, reds and blacks with gold accents here and there. One wall was a bookcase completely filled to the brim with heavily bound books.

At the moment, Natasha was sprawled between the heavy mahogany desk and an equally imposing leather chair which had been pushed back from the desk. The desk light had been turned on, casting the room in dull amber light. A man stood over her, a small smile tilting his lips.

Natasha could do nothing but stare at him. He said nothing as her gaze roamed over his features.

He laughed softly, a low rumbling sound. "Do I resemble my older brother, little one?"

Natasha blinked. This man's face was quite similar to Gianni's; the same strong jaw line, dark hair and near iridescent grey eyes...but this man was not Gianni. There was a hardness about his mouth, his eyes were hooded. A few days worth growth was upon his cheeks and his hair hadn't been cut recently. The dark locks hung around his collar and the lapels of his linen suit. He should have been handsome in an unkempt rugged sort of way but a bitterness and tightness about his features ruined the visage.

He ran a hand through his dark locks that was startlingly familiar. He smiled sardonically at her confusion. "I personally think I'm the better looking Angiolini heir."

Natasha assumed it was an attempt at humor but it was ruined by the underlying tone of resentment in his tone.

He crouched down on his haunches, bringing himself to eye level with her. "Luca Angiolini," he introduced himself and extended a hand to her. She looked at it warily. Sighing, he allowed his forearms rested nonchalantly on his thighs. "We're only a year apart, you know, my brother and I." He said a-matter-of-factly, before his brows drew together. "Of course that never stopped father from favoring his eldest son."

Natasha decided that she was definitely afraid of this man despite his obvious attempts to disarm her. "Where's Gianni?" she murmured.