Song: Demons- Hayley Kiyoko 

(edited)

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Adelaide

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"Adelaide, wait." He called after me, but I ignored him, quickly opening the door and finding my way to my room.

I sat back down in my chair and let out a long sigh.

What the hell just happened?

---

Ever since the scenario in the training room, I had been avoiding Romano as if he was an STD. 

In meeting with the team, I wouldn't spare him a glance, only speaking with Jaekyung and, much to my distress, Jamie. 

According to Jaekyung, the first time Romano led me to our meeting room, he took multiples diversions, making the walking time much longer than it should've been when in fact, There was a lift just down the hall from my room that took you directly to the meeting spot.

In my spare time, I had gotten to know the various types of people that worked for Romano, including the woman that dropped off my clothes on my first morning in the house. 

She went by the name Lissa and had gotten the chance to work as a maid for Romano after she lost her job at a hotel she was employed in. 

That was all she was willing to tell me.

Even after the conversation we had, she scurried off, sweat lining her hairline again. 

She was still scared. 

From what I could tell, there were only two employees in the house. Lissa, who cleaned the entire house and a gardener. 

I guess Romano has trust issues.

Other than my brutal training sessions, my favourite activity was to walk around the gardens that surrounded the Acerbi mansion. 

The gardens closely resembled the french garden aesthetic, neat and proper, nothing out of place and the fact that all of the gardens were very meticulous made me love them even more. 

My favourite place was a small bench, located directly under a tree.

When sitting there, I often closed my eyes and let the wind whisper in my ears, listening as they spilled their secrets. 

It was my little haven in the mansion I had grown accustomed to. 

That's where I first noticed the gardener, tending to a rose bush.

He looked to be in his early thirties with brown hair and tanned skin, likely to have taken many beatings from the rays of the sun. 

I quietly mused to myself why I had not seen any other gardeners except for this one man. 

He couldn't possibly be tending to the large expanse of greenery by himself, could he?

"Are you enjoying the gardens, miss?" He asked me.

The first thing that struck me about his voice was the accent that resided there. 

It was odd, forced, even. 

At first glance, it seemed to portray itself as Italian but I couldn't help but notice that there was something else lingering in the background. 

He looked like a stereotypical Italian man but then again looks can be faked, alongside accents, I should know.

"Very much so, do you tend to them alone?" I kept my answer short and sweet, not wanting to give him any information about me but still curious about his employment.

He smiled kindly at me, "yes, unfortunately, I'm the only gardener Mr Acerbi employed here."

He sat down next to me and looked out at the garden beneath us. 

His accent, where was it from? 

I needed to keep him talking.

"Doesn't it get lonely?" I carefully inquired.

He let out a small chuckle, "yes, yes I suppose it does, in more ways than you think, young lady. What about you? What brings you to Mr Acerbi's not so humble abode?"

I thought over what I could tell him. 

If he was employed here, Romano probably approved of him but that didn't mean I did. 

I went by my own rules. 

"Do you have a family waiting for you at home?" I deflected, not taking my eyes off of the rose bush he was previously preening.

He took a second before answering, "no, I don't. I live alone miss."

The silence stretched between us but I didn't flinch.

I didn't shift. 

I didn't sweat. 

This man may be kind on the outside but I didn't like his discreet prying.

"What did you say your name was again?" 

I could feel his gaze on my face but I kept my eyes forward, not daring to look over to him.

"I didn't say."

I was being cold, and I knew it. 

Something about this man didn't sit right with me, I needed to know what it was.

For the first time since he sat down next to me, I directed my eyes to him, "you're not from here, are you?"

His eyes widened slightly at my unrelenting gaze and his confident demeanour faltered. 

I had him in the palm of my hand.

"Excuse me?"

I studied his features. Strong cheekbones, thick eyebrows, close-cut brown hair, brown eyes. 

Nothing remarkable about him in the slightest. 

A feeling of unease settled in my stomach, refusing to budge.

"What's your name?" I continued to badger him. 

I knew that if he wasn't Italian he wouldn't answer my question truthfully so moving on to a different question was the best way to go. 

There's no point in dwelling on something that doesn't have a guaranteed answer.

"Dante, ma'am, I was named after my mother's grandfather, it's somewhat of a family name."

Dante.

If he was undercover, he was doing a terrible job of hiding it. 

It was painstakingly obvious that he was lying straight to my face, and I found myself a little offended that he thought he could lie to me so blatantly. 

I had been specially trained in interrogation techniques and a common way of finding out if someone was lying is if they added extra information. 

Just like Dante did.

"Dante doesn't suit you, what's your real name?"

I never took my eyes off his face and I could tell my harsh stare made him uncomfortable by the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and the fact that his right eye had twitched once or twice.

Instead of answering me, he decided it would be best to question me back. 

"Who are you?" 

His voice was void of the previous warmth that it possessed and his face held no emotion.

A lazy grin grew on my face, this was fun. 

"Another time, Dante."

With that, I stood up and sauntered back into the house.

"Have you been enjoying the gardener's company, cavolo?"

I turned around and was met with Romano clad in a suit leaning on the door frame that lead to the kitchen.

"Except he is not just a gardener, is he Romano?" I asked, closing the door to the garden behind me.

He let out a laugh, "nothing gets past you does it, cavolo?"

"Who is he then, Romano? He is not Italian and his name is certainly not Dante."

I brushed past him into the kitchen, suddenly thirsty.

"He is a CIA agent, stella."

I froze. 

Why has Romano employed a CIA agent as a gardener in his private mansion? Does he not realize that he's probably trying to gain information on him?

"I don't like the CIA," I stated, composing myself and filling up the kettle to boil.

Romano's eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly. 

"But carota, your organisation is the same is it not?"

I smiled. "There is a difference, Romano. Tea?"

He nodded his head, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. 

"What is the difference, carota?"

"They are Americans, Romano, I am not. Do you take it with sugar? Milk?"

I busied myself with the cups of tea, half because I was embarrassed by our previous encounter and half because making tea is an art form.

"A little milk and lots of sugar."

I put in the appropriate amount and handed the mug over to him before starting to prepare my own. 

When I had finished, I placed my mug on the island and leaned my upper body on the counter. 

Romano sat opposite me, blowing carefully on his tea with furrowed brows, not wanting to burn his tongue. 

He looked a little like a child.

"What's so bad about Americans, cavolo?" He asked when he realized that I had been staring at his adorable concentration on the temperature of the tea.

I sipped my tea while I pondered his question. "I don't mind the Americans, it's just that every American I have met has pissed me off, including the gardener."

Romano looked at me over his mug, his face serious, "What's your opinion on hot, sexy, and slightly dangerous Italians?"

I almost spat my scalding hot tea all over his face. 

He let out a resonating laugh at my reaction, heat rising into my cheeks.

"Only slightly dangerous?" I slyly avoided his question and hoped he didn't notice.

He smirked. "Extremely dangerous Italians."

"I haven't decided yet."

He hummed as a response and looked back at his tea. 

A comfortable silence settled between us and my lips curled into a little smile. 

Maybe I shouldn't have avoided him these past days, was it childish of me to do so?

"What's your opinion on attractive and breathtakingly beautiful British women?" I asked, smirking into my tea.

"I'm incredibly attracted to one."

His voice was one that commanded attention. 

It wasn't meek. 

He didn't stutter. 

I heard what he said.

I lifted my green eyes off of the steam that came out of my mug and met his deep brown ones. 

My breath hitched, almost as if I was in a trance. 

His eyes swirled with different emotions but one stood out more than the others. 

Lust.

I cleared my throat and threw the rest of my tea in my mug down the sink and washed up. 

I turned to leave the room when Romano's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Are you going to try to avoid me again, carota?"

I didn't turn to look at him. 

I stood ramrod still, trying to anticipate what his next move would be.

"Are you?" He pressed. 

Gone was that carefree jokester, replaced yet again by a gruffer and more domineering Romano. 

I can't say I didn't like it.

I turned around to face him wanting to say something, to comfort him, before I stopped myself. 

I turned back around and left the room.

I don't know what he wanted with me but whatever it is, I couldn't do it.

I just needed the money. 

With that money, I could finally know what it meant to create instead of take.

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