Niccolo's POV:

I saw her the moment I stepped into the hall. I saw her because of her dress. I remembered her because of her dress. I liked pretty women; I liked women who were tall and blonde, I liked women who were petite and fiery. I liked all kinds of women. But she, she intrigued me.

I heard her speak Italian in the coffee shop. Well, I heard her trying to speak Italian in the coffee shop. I was pissed, she was just holding up the line, and I had places to be and people to see. But then she stepped to the side, and I could see her in her dress, so I was a little less pissed at her. The view didn't hurt either. I fucking liked her in her dress, my cock fucking liked her in that dress.

However, my anger at her was reignited when I missed my phone call in the States. No hard-on was going to distract me from leading the empire my father left me. And then, when she turned and crashed in my chest at the lobby, I thought she would make a whole ordeal out of it, and I would be late once again. But I was surprised as I saw her just walk in the direction I was headed. I was surprised at how she knew when to be quiet.

And then my eyes caught hers. Before that, I thought of her as just beautiful, nothing more, nothing less. A lot of women were beautiful. And then I saw her eyes, and I was getting lost in a forest. They were green. I couldn't figure out what kind of green. I could see they were completely honest, like they didn't know what else to be, but at the same time, she had walls up there. Walls built around her. I couldn't put the two together. And like that, the beauty became the least of what intrigued me about her.

She leaned her head to the side and continued watching me. Her neck was now exposed, and I wondered how I would feel if I could kiss it. If I could mark it. My lips curved in a small smile as I could picture her naked in front of me. My thoughts of her were interrupted by a bag shoved in my direction. I grabbed the first piece of paper my fingers could reach, and I gave the bag to the next person.

This was one of my father's ideas, I tried to remind myself. His ideas were never stupid; they were just different. This was different; if it was good or bad, different was yet to be discovered. I was leaning towards the first one because how can anything be bad when she was there?

I turned my gaze to find her again, but she was now talking with her friend, a fiery redhead. My breath hitched as I saw her smile. I felt at peace like I did when I was a child, and there was always sun after the storm. Her smile was like that; it reminded me that after something bad, something good is bound to happen. Her smiling meant everything was good in the world.

I moved my gaze from her to the rest of the crowd. I watched people mix and try to find their numbers. I followed their lead and hoped that faith would consider playing a dangerous game with me by giving the same number as mine to her. After ten minutes of pointlessly trying to find my number, her group was the only one left that I hadn't checked. I slowly made my way towards them.

Her eyes flickered and met mine. A hint of apprehensiveness was shown on her face but was soon replaced with a stoic gaze that didn't give anything away. 'I would like to play poker with her,' a thought crossed my mind as I walked the last few steps. "Hey, does anyone have a 14?" I asked, not taking my eyes off her.

She slowly nodded, and I knew I would be heading straight to church after this to light a candle in a sign of appreciation. I outstretched my hand and said, "I'm Niccolo."

"Isabella," she said as she took it. I noticed she had small hands, and if I was a romantic, I would say they fitted perfectly in mine, but I wasn't. The only thing that I wanted was to fuck her and get her out of my system. I got obsessive sometimes, and I didn't want to get obsessive with her, even though I had never been obsessed with a woman before. In my twenty-six years of living on this earth, I have never gotten obsessive over the opposite sex. About winning, yes, about sex never. It would hurt my reputation and my professional life, both of which were currently at stake.

She let go of my hand first as she took a stand next to me. I noticed she barely reached my chest, but I wasn't surprised at that. I knew I had some height to me. That wasn't the only thing that surprised me. No, a slight hint of peaches and vanilla was in the air as she moved forward. Her brown hair that fell in cascades to the middle of her back was the reason for it.

I thought to myself that despite everything, this little course my father made me sign up for before he died wouldn't be so bad. With her as my partner, it would at least be interesting. And she seemed like the person who was actually here to learn something with her little notebook and a pen in one of her hands.

Once everybody found their partners, our instructor spoke again, "Now, we've prepared a little game for you. Every pair will get a bag with clues or pictures. You must find the place that the clue points to. The team that gets back first wins and gets this course free of charge."

The crowd of students erupted. I was sure every one of them would like that. There were at least a dozen pairs in the hall, and they all rushed towards the instructor to get their bag. Before I could say something, Isabella was right there in between them. I noticed that she was quickly swallowed by the crowd. And before I could even voice my concerns, she was back with a bag, being small paid off in situations like this.

She came back with a smile on her face, saying, "I think we should first figure out the clues about the places and then calculate the quickest way around them."

I nodded as I put my hand on the small of her back to lead her to a more secluded corner, "Here, so the competition won't be breathing down our necks."

I knew we might have an advantage with me knowing the city so well, but I also knew we should let our guard up. Everyone around us had one goal in mind: to win. I didn't need this win, but by the look on Isabella's face, I could see it would mean a lot to her.

She scattered the clues around the floor as she sat down cross-legged. I decided to join her by shielding her with my back from the rest of the hall. I wasn't used to sitting with my back to the crowd. I haven't sat like that since I was six. Being around her, I felt as if she had my back.

There were five clues in total. One was a napkin from the nearby coffee shop where we had our first encounter. On the back of the napkin, it was written to get the picture of the front. Isabella exclaimed, "That's from the coffee shop I was at before coming here. It's nearby, so we could get at it last."

I nodded as I looked at the ticket lying next to the napkin. On it was the question, "Who sold me?" I could see that it was a ticket to the opera from Verdi, that was on this weekend. "This is from the Scala. I could get us there in half an hour," I said, showing her the ticket.

She took it and put it before the napkin, "Okay, so we go for it before the coffee shop."

We had three more clues before us; one was a pair of sunglasses with the tag "Out of stock, find me." It was a pair I hadn't seen before, so I said, "I don't know where we could get another pair of those."

"Me either," she shook her head and put them at the end of the line. Then she picked up a piece of paper with a riddle, "It's no Oz, but you have to use your heels if you want to have some luck in your life."

She read it out loud, and her eyes lit up as she whispered, "Okay, this is Vittorio Emanuele, you know the mosaic you have to turn on your heel."

I nodded, and I took the paper from her palm and put it before the Scala. I looked at the last picture and immediately recognised the view one would get from the top of the Duomo. "This is the Duomo," I said as I put the picture after the note that said to get to Vittorio Emanuele.

"Okay, so our plan is to get to the Scala first and then follow to Vittorio Emanuele, Duomo, and the coffee shop. The only thing that we left are the glasses, but we can figure it out on the way."

I nodded and stood up as she put all the clues in the little bag. I offered her a hand, and she took it. A warm feeling crept from where our palms connected towards the middle of my chest. I was wondering what that was before her voice brought me back to reality, "We can take an e-scooter. I have an app, and I believe I saw a couple of them parked out front."

I wanted to stop her then, saying somebody could come pick us up, but I stopped myself. It would seem weird. I hoped that nobody would see me and if they would see me by chance, they wouldn't believe it. So, I followed her out of the hall; we were one of the last ones left.

When we came out, she looked around for those scooters she mentioned, and when she found one, she marched to it. But I noticed that not once did she leave her guard down. She watched left and right, her eyes laying on all the possibilities that the normal tourists wouldn't even notice. She was afraid, I noticed, afraid of pickpockets. She pulled her phone out and asked, "Do you want to share the scooter because I don't think I can connect to two of them."

"No problem, we'll be quicker if we take just one." I agreed. That would also mean our bodies would be pressed together in a confined space. I was glad about the idea. Somehow, in the past two hours, I have begun taking advantage of every situation that would make me closer to Isabella.

She stepped on it and motioned me behind. "Okay, I'll need you to tell me where I have to go because I can't use Google Maps and drive this thing."

"Don't worry, I'm a local," I shouted over all the noise that came from nearby cars. I wrapped my arms around her, but I soon lost balance. "No, wait. You go back. I'll drive." I said as I noticed this wouldn't work otherwise.

She shook her head, "No, I know how to manage it. Just put your hands on the handlebars next to mine."

I did that, and she was in between my arms, her back flushed against my front. I could take in the faint peach and vanilla shampoo she's been using on her hair. "Is this better?" her voice woke me from my thoughts.

"Yes, much better," I managed to say, despite a strange, warm feeling flushing through my body again. "Now, you need to turn to the right at the end of this street," I went from my memory of the roads. We were off, and Isabella's hair was flowing onto my chest. I was a couple of inches taller than her, so her hair wasn't in my face, and I thought once again how nicely we complemented each other.

I tightened my grip on the handlebars as she wushed among the cars and scooters all around us. I was surprised at the fact she was so independent and unafraid of anything. I expected her to be more scared of the city or all the things we had to do, but she was rational. I could picture how she tackled every problem head-on like she did with the one presented to her today. She reminded me of my father in that way.

We soon saw the Scala in front of us. We got the pictures we needed in no time, and before five minutes were up, we were already in the middle of Vittorio Emanuele, where I filmed Isabella turning on her heel. She looked so carefree as she giggled at the end.

I saw her almost losing her balance, so I outstretched my hands for her to regain her composure again. "Thank you," she smiled and blushed, "I got into it a little bit too much."

My eyes caught sight of a dark figure in one of the shops, and I cursed under my breath. It was Angelo, and if he saw me, if he saw us, he would target Isabella as well. She looked at me, frowning a little bit, "Everything okay?"

"Yes, just don't be so clumsy," I grunted at her. Why couldn't she be more on the down low? Not looking like the freaking centre of the universe right now? I saw a couple of stares she got from men; I very well knew some of them were married, and the others were into one-night stands exclusively. She didn't see it, but I did. If I wasn't by her side eyeing up anyone who dared to look her way, she would have already been stopped and asked out. However, she didn't even pay any attention to it, somehow, that helped calm my fury directed towards those men.

"Okay," she whispered, "let's go to the Duomo." She didn't acknowledge my outrage. Even though her eyes did, they were showing me she was hurt. But better hurt by my words than the actions of my enemies.

I stopped her by gripping my hand around her wrist, "Wait, stop."

She turned, and I saw I shouldn't have done that because, in her eyes, there was a storm that was soon spoken through her mouth, "Look, I know you don't like me. I heard you loud and clear in the coffee shop. And even now, you look like someone who would rather be anywhere but here with your cursing at me almost all the time. But I don't care. I made a lot of sacrifices to be here, and I would like to get the best experience out of it. So please put your prejudice about tourists aside and just try to be helpful."

Catching me off guard with the honesty about her emotions, I dropped her hand. I gulped before answering, "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't know we would partner up or that you understand Italian. Believe me, I want to win as much as you do. And I'm helping you the best as I can or know-how."

"So, you're not denying it?" she asked.

"Denying what?"

"That you don't like me and that you have a prejudice against tourists," she said as she pointed her chin up and tried to angrily look into my eyes. It was kind of cute how this little female was so pissed at me as she tried to intimidate me with her hands on her hips.

I chuckled a little before realising that was a mistake as she coldly asked me, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I was too quick to answer.

"I won't repeat myself," she shook her head before another chuckle slipped me.

"Okay, you're funny when you're angry." I sighed. "It's cute."

On her face, there were several emotions at once, from shock to anger again and, at the end even a little bit of amusement. "Let's call it a truce." I proposed, "We've got to get going, and I would like it as much as you that we get along in the next two weeks."

She slowly nodded. Behind her, my eyes caught sight of Angelo again and his eyes met mine. A deadly grin appeared on his face as he eyed up Isabella. I knew we were seconds away from having an altercation, and without my men here and in the middle of the open space, my options didn't seem as good as I thought in the beginning.

I lowered my gaze again at her so I could compose myself and not seem confused by something else. But Isabella already saw my gaze wavered in the direction of Angelo, and before I could stop her, she turned and looked at him, "Do you know him?"

I was surprised by how quickly she connected the dots. "No, I don't," I denied, already walking towards our scooter and picking it up. I decided I would take another route towards the Duomo because there was a real possibility that Angelo would follow us.

She followed me in silence, and I could see she was lost in her thoughts because she didn't mention that I was the one controlling the bike. With her lost to her thoughts, I led us to one of the small alleys in the back.

"Wait, where are you going?" her voice didn't hold fear, just caution and maybe a hint of hurt. But hurting her feelings was the last problem on earth at that moment that needed my attention. I knew I would need to get rid of Angelo as soon as possible, and that was at the top of my priority list.