The Thorned Rose

7

I did a couple more jobs over the next few months, completely forgetting about the Italian Mafia back in Rome, always leaving behind my signature white rose. I went to Poland, Russia and France, killing four men (two were in Poland). They were fun kills, but there weren't as fun as they used to be. My attention often drifted to meddling with the mafia again, but after I told Nadia exactly what had happened, she forbid it, not that it would stop me from doing anything, just that I decided I couldn't really be bothered. I just felt a bit bored these days. Part of me wanted to go back and torment Fabri, see what he is doing, mess with his plans a little bit, for no reason other than my own amusement. That's it, I'm going back to Rome.

When I arrived, I did some shopping. Finally. The last two times I had been to Rome I had been on missions, and I didn't have time to do any shopping, nor could I think about extra shopping when I had to get away so fast, and if my getaway car is missing or something, I always make it so that there is nothing valuable in there, although everything is replaceable anyway. I headed to the Via Dei Condotti to look at all the shops, I thought it was best that I did some retail therapy; I owed it to myself. After a full day of shopping, I was tired, and laden down with bags upon bags of crap, but just as I was walking back to my car, something, or rather, someone, caught my eye. I turned on my heel and went into a rather fancy looking suit shop. There was absolutely nothing for women in here, so I would have to be buying for a fake boyfriend, or something. An attendant at the shop asked if she could take my bags, to which I greatly accepted, and I walked around the shop, looking at the ties and pocket squares.

Fabricio stood merely metres away from me, having a new suit custom adjusted, and screaming on the phone.

"I want that dick's head on a silver platter, and I want it now, how are you so useless?" he screamed down the phone. My thoughts exactly, how could they be so useless?

"No one is fucking untraceable, especially not him, the rose bitch maybe, not him! I bet that rose bitch could find him." I definitely could, within the hour, I just needed a name. I think I just found a new job. Fabricio hung up the phone, sighed very loudly, and went back to standing still. I knew one thing, I couldn't make eye contact with him, it was far too risky.

"May I help you?" asked one of the shop assistants.

"I was just looking for a pocket square, for my boyfriend," I replied in perfect Italian, "have you got any recommendations, I don't really know what to look for," I laughed. Fabricio's head turned to look my way, but I avoided his gaze, probably infuriating him hugely. The pocket squares, unfortunately, were right in the gaze of Fabricio, but hopefully this would annoy him even more, who knows.

"We have many different styles and shapes, it depends on the blazer pocket, and that depends on the size of the man, do you know what size he wears?"

"I've no idea, maybe like that man," I said, pointing at Fabricio, making the woman look down nervously, "but definitely a bit taller, and he's got more muscles too, I don't know if that changes anything?" I didn't see, but I could hear him clenching his jaw, and I could imagine his eyes were full of anger. He stared at me from then on, not removing his gaze.

"These are our bestsellers," said the assistant, showing me a black pocket square engraved with a white rose, "after the Thorned Rose assassin, there is a bit of a craze about her at the moment." Fabricio was getting so irritated, he was now hugely fidgeting, probably wanting to put his hand around my neck, or the assistant.

"The Thorned Rose? What's that?" I asked, innocently. I could see Fabricio now smiling. I couldn't help but laugh at him, he was so clueless.

"Are you laughing at me amore?" asked Fabricio.

"Yes, you just look so funny stood up there listening to our conversation," I replied, still laughing. His face went angry.

"Do I know you?"

"I don't know you, you may know me though," I said. Really, it was the other way round.

"Were you not listening to my conversation?" he asked.

"You were screaming something, but I wasn't concentrating. I don't eavesdrop... I have manners," again, completely false, but funny because of how annoyed he got. He stepped of the pedestal he was on and strode towards me, his hand almost grabbing my neck, but I grabbed it, twisting him around, causing him to cry out in pain.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled.

"You were about to grab my neck!"

"Who taught you moves like this?!"

"My boyfriend! For a situation like this one!" I let him go, and he patted himself down.

"I'll take the red one, colour of blood," I said to the assistant. She bagged it up and I paid. Fucking four thousand euros! God, my fake boyfriend should be bloody happy. I grabbed the rest of my bags, to which Fabricio raised an eyebrow when he saw how many, and the brands, and I headed out of the door.

Just as I was packing my bags into the boot of the Mercedes A-class that I had rented for my stay, I felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned around to see Fabricio.

"I didn't catch your name," he said.

"Is that you asking for it, or just telling me you didn't catch it?" I sassily replied.

"Asking, for it."
"Anastasia."

"Lovely to meet you, Anastasia, I will see you around."

"Will you now?"

"Maybe."

"Whose head did you want chopping off?"

"So, you were listening?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You were yelling, I'm sure the whole of the Via Dei Condotti heard you!"

"Just a man who stole some stuff from me."

"Interesting. Okay, see you around," I said, spinning around. I got into the driver's seat and sped off. As soon as I was back in my hotel, I opened my laptop and started investigating who exactly this man was. I found out recently, by hacking his phone and reading his texts, that a man by the name of Giovanni Furfaro had stolen 40 kilos of cocaine from Fabricio. They probably just left it out somewhere, or forgot about it. Stupid pug man. If it was this man's head he wanted, it was this man whose head I would give him.