Thank you to everyone who has helped with this story, there have been quite a few. DeathAndTaxes and Always_Yes have both looked over early drafts for me, their feedback has been invaluable. Extra special thanks goes to North200 for his patient and skillful editing. You should go and check out their work, its excellent.
Thank you for taking the time to read, feed back is most welcome.
Karaline
***
"It really suits you," Gerry tells beth emphatically.
"It's not my colour," says Beth, shaking her head.
"It is so your colour."
"I feel like a walking banana."
"Oh shut up. It looks amazing on you."
The dress is more of a primrose yellow than banana and however much Beth protests it really does suit her, but it is much brighter than she would normally wear. With its wide skirt, pinched waist and halterneck, it's beautiful, and a steal in the Selfrdge's sale. Gerry think it looks better on Beth than it does on her, she still has to convince Beth though. Usually Beth chooses to wear much more muted colours; greens browns blacks. Not yellow, never yellow.
The two women are in Rome on a weekend city break at Gerry's insistence. Beth can't really afford it but they are celebrating Gerry's new job. She has a teaching position in Bristol so she will be leaving the university and Beth has just completed her MA in Art History.
Gerry doesn't work in the art history department, she teaches sociology, but they had formed an unlikely bond, over a broken microwave. Where Gerry is loud, confident and charismatic, Beth is quiet, introverted and understated, but they have a similar sense of humour. With no way of heating their food, they had gone out for lunch and ended up drinking an inappropriate amount of red wine. Luckily for Beth she didn't have any meetings or classes after lunch. The same couldn't be said for Gerry.
And now here they are, in Rome. Beth has always wanted to come. She has a sneaking suspicion that's the real reason Gerry insisted, although she claimed she'd always wanted to see Rome too.
On their first night, they had found a quiet little restaurant, the food was simple but nice. The waiter was cute and it hadn't been too pricey.
This evening they want to have some serious fun. There is a drag bar in the old quarter of the city, according to last night's waiter. First they have to catch some museums and galleries, because if everything goes to plan they will both be sporting serious hangovers in the morning.
*
An hour later and they are waiting in line for the Palazzo Altemps to open and Beth has given into Gerry's nonstop pestering and is wearing The Dress. The sky is clear and blue and although the sunlight hasn't yet made it into the square directly, the day is already shaping up to be a scorcher. It is good that they got here early; there is already a queue of people waiting.
At first Beth feels a little self conscious, she is sure people are staring at her dress, but she soon forgets to notice. She has no idea what kind of trouble that dress is about to get her into.
A small van pulls up. The line of people turn at the sound of its screeching brakes. Three men tumble out, all armed with guns. Everyone gapes as the men scan the queue. No one has time to react, even if they were to consider facing down a group of armed men. Which most of them wouldn't.
Of course they go for Beth. In her sharply contrasting summer dress she stands out like a like a single dandelion in the middle of a patch of grass.
As they drag her backwards towards the van, the last thing she remembers is seeing Gerry's terrified face and then something strong smelling and acrid covers her mouth. She tries not to breath it in, but she doesn't last long. Fear has the upper hand and her instincts are telling her to breath through it. As she inhales, wooziness takes over and all the colour seeps away until everything is black.
*
He hears gravel crunch and there are his men, bundling an unconscious body out of the van and in through the front door. It's a woman. Good. She is wearing yellow. Other than that all he can see is a tangle of tanned limbs and a mass of black hair. He goes downstairs and meets them as they carry her in through the front door. There is a man at each end; one has her arms, the other her legs.
"She is Italian?" he demands as soon as they are through the door. He'd sent them for a German or a British tourist.
"No boss, she is English, we heard her accent."
He looks the group over with narrowed eyes, but he doesn't speak.
"Shall we put her in the basement boss?"
Something gives him pause.
"No," he says, after a moment. "Put her in that room." He points across the hall.
Marco and Giovanni both stand, watching him, waiting for further explanation. They are supposed to be taking her down to the basement.
"Go now."
They do as they're told but when they think he isn't looking they share glances. He ignores them. When they're gone he slips into the room and studies her. She is still unconscious, sprawled out on the bed. Her skin is smooth and flawless. She's not his type, he prefers blondes.
He takes a step closer.
His eyes keep travelling back to a thin strip of white lace peeking out from beneath her dress. It contrasts strongly with both the yellow fabric of her dress and the olive tones of her skin. It's brilliant white -almost virginal - and he can't stop staring at it.
