56 • Piacere

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Smut ahead.

The sky was overcast when we stepped out onto the street from the tube.

Snape had insisted we could make a floo connection between his home and my office, even when I tried several times to explain how we did not have fireplaces there. In fact, the building was quite modern. Which also made it difficult to apparate without raising suspiscion. Glass doors. Glass walls. Elevators. Wi-Fi.

Finally he had given in, he had relented, and I had managed to take him to the London underground. It had been packed with people like usual when I marched him through it during peak crowd hour.

Snape emerged from the stairwell onto the street with eyes narrowed behind wind-tousled hair. He surveyed the high-rise buildings and honking cabs like they were personally offensive.

I smiled to myself at the sight of him, grabbing his hand. «It wasn't that bad.»

«I touched someone's gum,» his voice was grave. Nearly traumatised.

«Oh no. The horror,» I teased, yelping when he poked my ribs.

After a few minutes of walking I nodded toward a building across the street — all dark brick and glass. «That's us. Fourth floor,» I said.

He glanced at it with a low hum of vague suspicion. «And this Fabio, he is in there?» he muttered, picking up his pace.

«His name is Lorenzo,» I said flatly, unlocking the door and holding it open for him, «and seeing as we're late, I assume so, yes.»

Snape stalked past me, into the pristine lobby, «even worse,» he muttered. His eyes swept over the marble floor, modern minimalist art, and the receptionist behind the curved desk. She froze at the sight of his scowl.

«Merlin, try to smile,» I muttered under my breath.

«I am smiling,» he said grimly.

That wasn't true.

I gave her a little wave and a reassuring smile as we passed her. Stressfully, she fidgeted with the menus to the connecting restaurant, but relaxed once she saw me.

We reached the elevator. The button lit up under my finger with a ding, and we waited in silence for a few seconds.

Snape folded his arms, «why is everything so... white?»

I tilted my head toward him, «would you like me to find a corner for you to sulk in? You wanted to come, you know.»

He ignored that. «And what does this Lorenzo do, exactly? Aside from appearing in your inbox with flirtatious punctuation?»

I turned to face him, «he is one of my international distributors. He handles product export, customs and product placements across Southern Europe. Like boutique apothecaries, wellness stores, and luxury spas in Italy, Spain and Greece,» I explained, «he also happens to be married, and they have invited me for dinner in Milan more times than I can count.»

Snape blinked once. Then looked away, «still don't trust him.»

The elevator dinged again and the doors opened. We stepped inside. He eyed the mirrored interior with disgust, then caught my gaze in the reflection. He was tense, lips drawn into a thin line. But something about the flicker in his eyes made me soften.

First, I reached for his hand, then I reached into his mind.

Remember, I am Leo Knight here, okay? Not Leonie. Not Lovegood.

Snape glanced down at me and huffed. The elevator began to hum, the floor numbers lighting up as we ascended. I watched our reflections in the mirrored panel. He was looming and brooding, like I had brought a thundercloud to work.

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