"Merda!" Gianni cursed and slammed his fist into the wall and relished the feel pain shooting up his arm. It was a welcomed distraction. She'd seen him and had come running towards him, her blonde surfer staring after her. He hadn't thought she would recognize him at that distance or even bother to look in his direction.
But since when had Natasha done anything he expected her to do? He'd have to switch cars. He'd have to be more careful.
He sank heavily into an armchair. He rubbed at his cheek and the stubble growing there. He'd been too distracted to shave lately and his hair was growing long and falling about his collar and into his eyes. He sipped scotch.
His father was dead, his brother gone into hiding. Renoldo Pezzini was wrathful at the apparent murder of his niece. His retaliation had been swift and brutal. Gianni truly mourned the loss of his father. As much as for revenge as for the sake of appearances. Pezzini couldn't simply let the supposed death of his niece go unpunished. Such would look suspicious. It would be necessary to make sure that everyone thought his niece was dead. Gianni's father had been taken in a car bomb along with three of his men. Luca narrowly escaped an ambush which eerily mimicked that which had nearly killed Natasha.
Gianni felt immeasurable sorrow at the loss of his father. But to retaliate against Renoldo Pezzini would mean a certain bloody death for himself if he failed in that attempt. He would have welcomed death with open arms had it not been for the small inkling of hope that Natasha still lived. That, and to succeed in killing Renoldo Pezzini would mean depriving Natasha of her only living relative and perhaps her last vestige of protection.
Gianni thought on Natasha and took another gulp of scotch. The walking American stereotype looked like he was perfectly willing to protect her. He wondered if she would allow it. Gianni was, self admittedly, intensely jealous. And Natasha? Had she sent him the note? And if she hadn't? Perhaps she had simply been content to allow him to think her dead. He couldn't blame her.
He absently poured himself another glass.
The shrill ringing of his cell phone jarred him out of his thoughts. "Angiolini," he answered.
"Brother, dearest." The voice that streaked over the phone lines caused him to stiffen in his seat.
"Luca," he growled. "What do you want?"
"What? Not happy to talk to me, Gianni.?" Luca sighed dramatically. "I was just enjoying the California sun. I thought perhaps we could enjoy it together."
Gianni sat forward in his seat. "Luca." His voice was dangerously low.
Luca laughed. "Did you truly think I wouldn't have you watched, brother? Did you think I wouldn't have you followed?"
Gianni was silent.
"Imagine my surprise when my dearest older brother took a trip to California. And I thought to myself 'now why would he do that'? What could possibly be of interest in California? And then I remembered that our little heiress lived in California for most of her life. All I had to do was follow you right to her. You should have been more careful."
Gianni felt dread welling in the pit of his stomach and his grip on the phone tightened. "Leave her alone, Luca," he growled.
Luca snorted. "Have you forgotten that our father was killed because of her? I'm merely restoring the balance, brother. That bitch is going to die and you're going to watch."
"Luca—"
"Ciao, Gianni." The line went dead.
Gianni stared at the phone in dismay. "Shit," he grabbed his jacket and strode from the hotel room.
***
They were at Colin's gym. It had been two weeks since Natasha had decided needed to blow off some steam on the treadmill and Colin had offered to accompany her. However, when they'd arrived, Natasha had spied the punching bag and decided that it offered a more satisfying release.
"Jesus, kid, take it easy," Colin warned as he watched Natasha attack the punching bag with in a flurry of jabs. He held the bag relatively still as she rained blows upon the surface.
She scowled and launched a kick which struck the bag and nearly knocked him off his feet.
"Something wrong?" he ventured.
Natasha rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders as she shook out the tense muscles in her arms. She was sweaty and dark wisps of hair clung to her cheeks. "Nope," she said lightly, "nothing's wrong." As she unleashed another set of hard jabs at the bag.
He held the bag steady and peered at her. "Sure, there's not someone's face in particular you're picturing because you're beating the hell out of this bag. I think it's about to start crying for help."
Natasha stopped, arms hanging limply at her sides as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "Look, Cols. I just spent the last month being chased, shot at, and manhandled. Pardon me if I have a little pent up aggression."
She struck out suddenly, and aimed a kick high on the bag. Taken off guard, Colin was sent sprawling to the ground.
Natasha blinked at him as he stared up at her in shock. Natasha burst out laughing at the startled look on his face. "I'm so-s-s-sorry, Colin," she managed between bursts of laughter as she bent over and held her stomach. Colin glared up at her. She offered him her hand to help him up in appeasement, still unable to stop her laughter.
A grin spread over his face as his large hand enveloped hers and hauled her down to sprawl on the mat next to him. He quickly rolled over her to straddle her pin her against the mat.
She smirked, a mischievous glint lighting her eyes as she looked up at him. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"
He laughed and gazed down at her. "Yeah, it's like that," he taunted. "You gonna do something about it?" he challenged.
Natasha shifted and threw him off, but he did not release her, taking her with him as they rolled across the mat. Colin pinned her once again beneath him. "Give up?"
Natasha glared at him. "Colin, if I remember correctly, you outweigh me by about a hundred pounds. I don't stand a chance." She shrugged from her position beneath him. "Maybe I could take you in the ring though."
He shook his head in disbelief at her bravado as he moved to collapse at her side and propped himself up on one elbow to gaze at her. Natasha flushed slightly at the intent way in which he was looking at her.
She moved to sit up when he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down and closer to his body. She stared into his face, which was solemn after being so mirthful only moments before.
"Cols?" she ventured, made nervous by his silence.
He smoothed her hair back from her face and taking her chin in his hand he lowered his lips to cover her own. He kissed her softly, gently, merely brushing his lips over her own.
Natasha stared up at him when he pulled back.
A small lazy smile tilted his lips as his eyes searched her face, taking in the bewilderment in her gaze. His clear blue eyes met hers. "I've missed you, Tash," he murmured.
Her own voice was breathy, "I've missed you too, Cols." Emotion flickered in her gaze and he felt her stiffen slightly.
