Berlin's Last Love: A Money Heist Fanfic.

Aurora.

I often choose my men like I do with my wine. Mature, flavourful, passionate, interesting and of course, mysterious. I like my wine to leave me guessing. Will my next sip be the same as the last?

I stare at my red wine swirling around in my bowl of a glass and smile, I can't believe I'm comparing my romantic attraction to an alcoholic drink.

I raise my eyes to see the bar tender gazing at me, his attention quickly scatters away from me now I've spotted him staring. I smirk, not because I'm gorgeous but because I'm the odd one out in this bar.

Italians are truly beautiful people, I'm envious of their forever olive skin and dark glowing features. My skin slightly paler to the locals here, though I blame my choice of country to live in the past few months.

He's too young, too gullible. But it's still nice to play. I girlishly pull a long piece of my icy blonde hair behind my ear and give a little giggle as if I were flirting. Maybe I was.

"And what is a beauty like you doing on your own here?" The boy asks leaning over the bar.

My eyes wonder. Shit - I came for a quiet drink not a shag.

"I prefer my own company." I raise a hint and give him a half smile.

"Single then huh?" He childishly jokes.

I struggle to restrain my eyes from rolling and just lick my glossed lips to give me a few seconds to think. In fact, yes, I was single but only recently. My 'mature wine' quickly became sour grapes.

I laugh, bless him, only if he knew I didn't like men my age! I take a big gulp of my red wine and see my red lipstick is leaving marks on my wine glass, he realises I'm bored of the small talk and goes to clear tables.

"Ah, Valentino! Our usual table please!" A cheerful voice calls from the entrance, but a voice that lingered and caused me to twitch my head round to see what the man with a voice like that looks like.

Immediately I find him striking, his dark ruffled hair with strong eyebrows to match made him stand out from the Italians. His eyes are muddy brown, but they hold so much depth, they work perfectly with his sharp cheek bones and his crooked smile. His fashionable suit is precisely fitted, tailored exactly to his body. Now I was the one gazing. He was in fact, fine wine. I lick my lips daringly, and get up out of my stool to introduce myself and I let me dress fall to the floor heavily.

"Tatiana?" He calls which makes my heart shudder.

He's married - fuck of course he is. I shuffle in my seat pretending that the plan was always to readjust myself but secretly I'm embarrassed, she walks in behind him, a little sluggish and no where near as graceful as him - they didn't look right together.

The girl's skin is even lighter than mine, practically ghostly looking. Her hair is almost as bold as the man holding her up, the burnt orange is blinding from this distance. But her smile tells me she's in love with him. She's young, of course she thinks she's in love, we all think that at our age. She couldn't be any older than me, maybe she too likes her wine matured. That, or they genuinely love each other.

My heart sinks, maybe I just wanted that romance again and he was my ticket. I laugh. I'm pretending I'm in a dream world when really I'm trying to hide from the police. I've not got the time to find another love, I need to focus on myself and not get caught.

I watch as they laugh together, make toasts together and then I realise I've had enough. You're right, it's probably jealousy, I want that and I can't have it. I gulp the last of the wine and slam the glass down on the bar gathering my things. I notice the young ginger hurries off to the bathroom, probably to make sure she still looks perfect for her god-like husband. I roll my eyes in annoyance, and I storm away from the bar.

"Staring isn't very ladylike," the voice purrs behind me.

In shock I turn to face him. He steps out away from the door of the bar and smirks, his jawline highlighted by the moonlight and I feel as if I'm weak at the knees. His posture is strong, but intimidating too.

"I wasn't st-" I begin but he creeps forward and raises his hand as if to silence me. His eyes are squinted, examining me, making his judgment.

I stop, and watch every movement as he snakes towards me, he glides across the patio as if he was a lion sneaking up to his prey and the man is now arms length from me. "What is your name?" He asks and his head cocks to one side, his eyes still squinting as he looks at every aspect of my face.

The words linger, no one has asked for my name since I moved here, so do I lie and give a fake name or- "Aurora" the real one. I use the real one. Why? Because I have a feeling he knows when someone is lying.

"Beautiful Aurora," he coos making me blush, and he smirks at me.

"And you?" I ask.

"Andrés." He pulls his hand out for me to shake and I take it. "And I know you're running away from something."

Panic floods my face as my hand goes limp in his, he chuckles sinisterly, turns and begins to stroll back into the bar. "See you soon, Aurora."

What did he know about me already?