Intertwined

Chapter 64: The Other Side of Rome

A/N: when I started writing this chapter I had a song still stuck in my head. It seems to be satisfied with a few plays a day, not being as loud or as constant as it was. To help write this chapter I decided to make a very Mia centred playlist to listen to, which had to include my brains current favourite tune. One song in particular helped me reach the end of this chapter today. You will see what it is.

Thank you for continuing to read my little story. Lots of love, as always

Mia couldn't really settle on the flight. It was only two and half hours to Rome and she went over the last information that Agent Rovina had been able to gather on Niko's last whereabouts. He had been spotted with another man leaving bars around the northwestern edge of the city and an old villa. They had check in times to notify Morgan once they arrived at their hotel and Asha had organised somewhere secure, known for its expertise at keeping guests' anonymity. The penthouse they would be staying in was also close to a safe house used by the local Interpol agents. 'The property is owned by my mother's family,' the former model rolled her eyes, 'I guess this is one of those rare occasions where my mother being my mother is helpful'.

'She is very,' Mia tapped her chin looking for a kind word or phrase, 'forceful,' Asha laughed.

'That's the nicest way you could have put it Mims. My mother is a controlling, judgemental snob. She never saw her children and thought we were just perfect how we were; there was always something lacking about us. Our appearance, our grades, our choices, down to the toys we wanted,' the tall brunette rolled her eyes, but they hinted at a sadness and hurt of a child just needing to be loved.

Mia squeezed her hand as they walked through the hotel lobby doors; gold, marble and wood greeting them. The smell of fresh flowers and expensive plush carpets underfoot helping to dim some of the bustling noise of expensive shoes, luggage trolleys, and elevators opening and closing.

The two women walked to the concierge desk and the man looked up, greeting them warmly.

'Buongiorno, abbiamo una prenotazione a nome Asha Seymour,' the young man's face suddenly went pale as he realised who the woman was, he began to stammer and typed quickly, his finger fumbling on the keys of his computer. Asha sighed, she hated that her family name made people uncomfortable.

He looked up, panic stricken, waiting for one of the women to yell at him. The other workers at the check in counter had fallen silent as well. Asha looked at his name badge, 'Matteo, I am very grateful to be here with my friend Amelia. Take your time and I promise you have no wrathful, entitled attitude to come from either of us during our stay,' even though her Italian was fluent, Matteo looked at the journalist like she still might bite him, 'my apologies, if my mother or her family have scared the life out of you previously,' Asha stood tall and smiled genuinely, proudly as she declared to the young man and the staff nearby, 'I am not like that at all,' Matteo let out a breath he had been holding and the colour started to return to his cheeks. He handed over their room cards and asked if they would need anything else. Mia asked if there was any fruit in their room and he nodded proudly that there was already a basket of fresh, local seasonal produce waiting. 'Grazie Mille,' the redhead responded and smiled graciously at Matteo and the two women walked towards the elevator the porter bringing their luggage trolley close behind.

The porter, whose name badge said Liuni, placed their bags where Asha directed, 'Grazi, Liuni,' Asha nodded and handed the man a tip, 'That's a Sicilian name?' the black haired man smiled brightly and stood up taller, 'Yes, that is where my family are from,' Asha noticed a slight uptick in pitch at the end of some of the man's words that hinted he may be from the southeast coast of Sicily.