NICCOLÒ

28. Shots

Cee watched Niccolò's figure disappear around the corner, heading towards the lift.

She stood, frozen, as Luca grinned to her, reaching underneath her bed for the dress he had thrown there just a minute ago; this was it. If he found the box, she was dead.

"Niccolò said I can't go out," she blurted out abruptly, making Luca pause, meeting her eye as he thought, reaching out blindly. Cee's rib cage seemed to tighten, squeezing her lungs to dust; her throat was dry.

"We're not technically leaving the hotel," he mused, straightening up: dress in hand. Cee let out a choked gasp of air; she was safe. "We have a bar and casino downstairs."

"Oh," she mustered, her face still pale.

"And since when have you listened to my cousin?" Luca brushed off invisible dust from the dress and lay it flat on the bed.

"Since I promised." Cee eyed the dress nervously, trying to calm her racing pulse. "I don't know about this-"

"You don't have to drink," he clarified hurriedly, smiling weakly, "I just don't want to drink alone downstairs worrying about Flo." Cee looked at him then; really looked. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes almost like bruises. "I promise you'll be safe."

"You like her," she realised, feeling her fear of Luca sink away into nothing; he was human. He was capable of emotion, just like her, and he had a crush on Flo, a woman he employed. Luca looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. He wouldn't hurt her tonight - she just knew.

"Don't tell Niccolò," he mumbled, heading out the door. "You have fifteen minutes to get dressed and look hot."

Cee turned to the dress, her mind made up. In ten minutes, she'd changed and covered up her dark circles, choosing a bright red lipstick to match the dress.

She was sliding on her heels when Luca knocked. "I'm ready to drink away my sorrows," he declared, marching in, giving her a quick once-over. "You better be ready."

Cee nodded, smiling for the first time all day. "I'm drinking with you."

---

"Salute!"

Cee tapped her shot glass to Luca's, laughing as a vodka splashed onto her hand; she downed it. It burned smoothly as it went down, but she winced. Luca laughed at her facial expression, twisting his bar stool to face her.

"Can't handle it?" he mocked, sipping at his glass of whiskey; Cee stuck her tongue out childishly, nodding to the bartender for another. Wordlessly, the woman slid her another couple of shots, a glint in her eye; the staff seemed to be enjoying watching their boss's deputy getting wasted.

"Fieros don't run away from a challenge," she retorted, taking the shot like it was water.

"You just run away from Niccolò," Luca teased, making Cee tip her head back and groan.

"I don't run away," she protested, giggling slightly. "I just stay away."

The woman manning the bar handed Cee another drink: this one was deep red. "For the Fiero," the woman nodded respectfully, averting her eyes. Cee shrugged, taking a sip; she didn't care to find out how the staff knew her, or why they seemed to respect her so much.

It tasted delicious; sweet and fruity - just how she liked it.

"You're scared of him," Luca mumbled into his whiskey, his eyes scanning the surrounding area out of habit; the lights were low, and the majority of the tables were filled with men in suit jackets, the occasional glow of a cigarette lighting their faces.