Cold. So fucking cold.

It's never this cold in Rome. I adjust the gold chain around my covered neck. Looking at myself in the mirror, my fingers trail down the cotton material of my black sleeveless turtle neck to the waist of my plain high waisted free suit pants. I pick up the long sleeved bolero short suit of the pants and slid my hands into it, feeling the suede fabric of the outfit. Helena is such an angel sometimes, the material warms me up a little and I'm thankful for it.

Do I need to put my hair in a ponytail? I hold it up behind me and stare at it through the mirror. Turning my face to the left and right, I'm unsure of how I should leave it— I share the soft creek of the door and my head whips back in an instant, my hair  falling to my shoulder.

"The door was left open." A pair of silvery eyes stare behind a pair of glasses at me.

      "No, it wasn't." I curse inwardly at the lack of feeling in my voice when I spoke. She smiles and walks into the room, clearly not taking mind to my tone or that I corrected her. In her floral mid thigh gown, she makes her way beside me and touches me. I freeze.

" Such lovely hair, you smell like apples and grapes." She murmurs quirkly with a perky smile on her lips. I say nothing as she turns my stiff body to face the full length mirror. Unlike me, she has her heels on. Her hands go into my hair and they begin to work their way through it. The feeling is so strange. Meth has been the only person who has made contact with my hair in the past 20 years and those were times when there's an event that I must attend. I do my hair most of the time but right now with her slim long fingers caressing my scalp, I find it hard to suppress the sigh of content building in my chest.

"Rolan will find it hard to keep his hands off you." She jokes but I must have missed the joke in the sentence when I ask this question.

    "Why do you say that?"

She scoffs. "Rolan likes beautiful things, animals, plants and humans. I've seen him give a traitor a quick death all because he looks beautiful. And you my dear, you look beyond beautiful."

She combs my hair to the back with her fingers and picks the hair clip on the desk next to the mirror. I miss the routine because my eyes are fixed on the expression on her face. Serious and focused with light brows like it's a job she is willing to do with her whole heart.

"Done."

I break out of my reverie and stare at her handiwork in the mirror. Most of my hair is pulled to updo bun and the shorter parts were left to play by the sides of my face. It does look beautiful but for some reason my heart feels heavy and it's hard to say my words of gratitude to Rolan's mother.

"You don't have to say it, ангел. Now come." She ushers me out of the room like a lost child. I remain mute and numb till I'm brought to the dining table and placed in my seat with breakfast sitting right in front me. They are talking but its from a far distance or my mind is just so far away.

Memories play and unfold right in front of my eyes and I watch it with no means of switching it off till I feel the touch of a harsh cold hand on  mine. They stop the memories from playing and return me to reality where I can see, hear and feel. I look up at the owner of the unfeeling hands.

Cold blue eyes stare right back at me. No questions asked, no words. Just his eyes staring right at me like he can see my soul. I don't blink and neither does he. Then he speaks.

"Eat." A command. Now, I blink. Once, twice before I turn to face the food before me. Pancakes and fruit compote with sour cream by the sides. It smells real good. Slowly, I pick my utensils and begin to dig into it.

"My wife is really good at making Syrniki pancakes. Hope you like them." Christian says with a mouth half full of pancakes.

The texture moistens in my buds and it taste like cheese with a tangy taste. Foreign but I love it. I nod at Christian's earlier statement. " it does taste very good." I say after taking two more bites.

"Oh, you flatter me." She laughs and pats Christian lightly on his shoulder.

A ping tone from a phone resonates in the room. Verá slams down her fork and scowls angrily at Nikolai whose focus is on the phone in his hands.

"What did I say about phones while eating?" She seethes.

      "But this is important!" he argues back like a twelve year old boy.

"So is the first meal of the day." His mother growls back. "Don't make me dunk that piece of metal into your coffee."

Nikolai immediately puts his phone in his pockets and downs the rest of his coffee. He sends his mother a "Are you satisfied?" look and Verá shrugs lightly before continuing with her food.  I look around, everyone else is eating without a care so I do the same.

Breakfast is over and Verá is the first to leave the house. Something about going to the clinic for an eye check.  I'm in a room with the Dimitri males. Christian, Rolan and Nikolai. The atmosphere is pretty serious, No longer do Christian look playful like he did earlier.

"About the party incident, who is the unfortunate soul that sought for a life of misery?" He begins as he flips through a flower magazine with so much given attention. Strange.

"The shooter took his life before we had a chance to question him but we're still gathering Intel. To be able to get hands on that type of poison, whoever is calling the shots must be on a side darker than what we are." I explain. It is true, I tried thousands of times to get my hands on that poison but to no avail, so I made a poison similar to it and it works just the same but not as quick.

"Why do you say that?" Nikolai questions, his gaze full on me. I shrug.

     "I myself have tried to get my hands on poisons like that but failed. People who make such poisons are serial killers with a strong backing and a major hold on the dark web. It is not impossible to find them but it comes with a cost."

"What is the cost?"

    "I'm afraid I do not know and I do not plan on knowing. I prefer to make replicas of poisons I can't get my hands on. A bit slow but they work just the same."

"I see." He mutters before taking his eyes off me to stare at his brother seated on the sofa next to me.