The Thorned Rose

23

BACK TO SAVANNAH'S POV

I felt like a bit of an idiot for almost kissing him on the plane, but we both promised to forget about it, which was good. It was time for me to be professional now, and I had to have eyes in the back of my head at all times, especially since I was about to let the head of the Bosnian Company know I was the Thorned Rose, obviously using an alias name, but still my face, and to try and convince the Bosnian mafia to turn on Domenico and his men, which I know is going to be a pretty hard task.

I saw my alias name on a sign held by a man dressed as a chauffeur: 'Anastasia Hills', and I went over to the man. He led us out to a black Audi Q3, with blacked out windows, and I could feel Fabricio stiffening next to me, obviously concerned about what was going on. I gave him a reassuring smile, and he gave me the tiniest smile back, so small if you weren't looking directly at his lips, you would've missed it. Why was I looking at his lips? For fuck sake Savannah, snap out of it!

We pulled up to a set of tall iron gates in the middle of an even taller stone wall, surrounded by guards. When the gates opened for us, the car continued to drive down what seemed like a never-ending driveway, lined on the edges with pine trees. When we finally got to the end of the driveway I had to blink twice before truly believing my eyes, because it was like we had entered another world. There was a large circular fountain, which had a big sandy-coloured structure in the middle, and a stone horse on each of the four sides that spat a stream of water out of their mouths. All the way up to top of the structure were various embellishments, and at the top was a large white vase with a pink and blue floral pattern. Around the base of the fountain was a flower bed, filled with red and white geraniums. This was only the fountain as well, the huge house, coloured the same as the fountain, stood tall and proud, with various fences, flower beds, ornaments, balconies and frills around it to make it truly spectacular There were two Rolls Royces and a Lamborghini parked outside, and we parked next to them. The chauffer got out of the driver seat and came to my door, opening it up and giving me his hand to help me out of the car. I felt slightly underdressed compared to the grandeur of this house, as I was just in jeans and a jumper, however my counterpart, Fabricio, was perfectly dressed in a graphite coloured, checked suit and pastel pink shirt, with the top two buttons undone.

"Anastasia!" I heard someone call. I span around to see Haris in a burgundy suit and waistcoat, with matching trousers and a white shirt with a pinky coloured tie.

"Haris, hi!" I called out to him and walked over to join him. He held out his hand and I shook it, only to be pulled in closer to him so he could wrap his arms around me in a hug.

"And this must be... Don Sandrino, of course," Haris said, shaking hands with Fabricio who had walked up to us.

"Lovely to meet you Mr. Velic," nodded Fabricio.

"Please, call me Haris. Come inside." He led us through two huge glass doors that were embellished with a criss-cross pattern of a gold coloured metal. Considering the size of this house, I wouldn't be shocked if it was actual gold.

He led us through his magnificently decorated house into a small sitting room, where he gestured for us to take a seat.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"Scotch please," said Fabricio.

"Just a coffee please, with milk, no sugar," I smiled.

"Of course my love!" he pressed a button on an intercom by the side of the door and spoke our drinks orders through it, also getting a scotch for himself. Then he sat down opposite.

"Now, I already had a feeling I knew what this was going to be about, so my brother and his wife are waiting in a room elsewhere, I will call them through now," he picked up his phone and spoke some words in Bosnian, then hung up. "So, how do you like our beautiful country?" We discussed Bosnia for about five minutes before a man and woman came in, I recognised him instantly as the head of the Bosnian mafia