In Cold Blood [Mach & Merc]

[pariah]

”Are you sure you want to do this?” whispered the familiar and caring voice across the table.

The words hung in the air like storm clouds. Another body had been found. An undercover agent who had been attempting to do the same thing she was about to. He had been mutilated to the point where he had been identified by a scar on his hairline only after his body had been washed of the blood.

Green eyes continued to study the files before her and reacquaint herself with the familiar face distorted with the effects of age. It had been almost twelve years since she’d last laid eyes on the face in the photograph. Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? Memories swirled just behind the lenses of her eyes, threatening to drag her away to places she’d rather not go.

The smallest smirk tugged at the corners of her lips threateningly; an unwelcome sense of pride emerging from a darkness that she’d shoved down long ago. A darkness with a different name.

A hand touched over the back of her own, and green eyes flashed up to collide with blue.

”Allison? Are you sure? It’s not too late to change your mind. No one at the Bureau will blame you.”

His fingers curled in with her own and she exhaled slowly, feeling the urge to drop her gaze back down at the face on the photograph again, but she kept her gaze in his own; anchoring herself to the present. Her fingers moved to slide out from his own as she frowned.

”I’m not going to change my mind,” she stated firmly; biting back the comment on her name not being Allison before it could escape.

Iris Hannigan had been going by Allison Paige for just over a decade. Ever since her father had turned over incriminating evidence to try and gut the very crime ring she was about to infiltrate, her identity had been constructed for her. Allison Paige had moved to Loveland, Colorado when she was only eleven years old with absolutely nothing of her own. She had hated the endless fields of empty grassland and the small town folks with their small town minds. Her father had worked hard to erase the memories of growing up in a mansion in upstate New York. Of visiting the city with her uncle and playing with her toys in the corner while he conducted business.

She had loved it. She had hated her father.

Eventually life fell into an easy rhythm. She took an interest in criminal psychology, and when it came time to graduate high school Allison already had several college credits under her belt. Her fortitude landed her on the fast track to become an agent. Although she looked nothing like the soft-spoken, princess-obsessed little girl she had been when she was younger, now covered in tattoos with a sharp haircut and an even sharper tongue, she was familiar enough that she would never be able to be a field agent. Not in New York City.

Until her real identity was the very reason she needed to be in the field.

”Very well,” another voice sounded on the far side of the room. Allison looked up and over to her boss, pulling her hands down from the table in front of her to rest on her lap as he came over with a fabricated mug shot and criminal history.

”As you know, Agent, you will be arrested for grand larceny, possession of stolen property, and possession of narcotics with an intent to distribute under your identity Hayley Sherwood. While awaiting sentencing, you will be placed in the same bunk as Taylor ‘Baby’ Shaw, daughter of one of the men your father put away. It is your job to make sure she recognizes you. You will be released on a technicality. A rookie will mishandle and lose many key pieces of evidence in your case, and your state-appointed lawyer will get you released.”

Allison looked over the pictures of the people in front of her. They were familiar names, and nearly familiar faces, but time away had blurred many of her memories of them. She lifted her hand up to touch the mug shot of Baby; studying how the years had changed the once soft face.

”You will be on your own, Agent. There will not be anyone with you to protect you as you make your way to your target. You will be exposed, your true identity revealed, and there will be a price on your head. This is a deep undercover operation. You will contact your handler only once you are integrated into the syndicate and are certain your cover will not be blown. Do you understand?”

”Yes.”

---

Four Months Later​

---

She could taste the copper in her mouth from where she’d bit her cheek. Her ears were still ringing though the pitch was lessening as time went on. Sitting in the metal chair in the middle of the spartan room, Iris rubbed at her neck as she waited. She’d been bagged and tossed in the back of a van while making her way through China Town. A few rough hands later, and she was here. She didn’t recognize where she went, though she tried to count the time and track the turns, but after a while she had to give up.

When they’d arrived to their destination, the men who had taken her had kept the sack over her head as she was lead to this room. They had her hands bound behind her back with zip ties and another around her neck to keep the bag in place. They’d stripped her down to her underwear and tank top, though their hands didn’t linger. A few whistles and half-handed remarks were mostly centered around her tattoos which covered the majority of her body. She wondered if they'd been given orders not to touch her. Though she couldn't see them, she could feel them keeping their distance from her as if afraid of the consequences.

Iris had been admittedly terrified. Being kidnapped, bound and then exposed was not how she wanted this day to go. But it had been hours. They had long ago removed the zip ties and the bag, leaving her to explore her empty basement-like room and wait. It gave her plenty of time to get lost in her own head. Pacing the room, raking her hands through her hair, chewing on her lips and nails as her memories came and went unbidden. A show of uncertain fear, undoubtedly, for the person on the other side of the camera mounted in the corner of the room where wall met ceiling.

About the time that her nerves had begun to settle, the door opened. The sound went through her like a jolt of electricity, and Iris had to coach herself to calm down. She exhaled slowly, counting to three in her head as she turned her cheek to look over her shoulder and meet the eyes of the man who entered.

---

---

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas Occisor was not the stereotypical picture of a crime lord. Yes, he had expensive tastes, dressed nicely most times, and perhaps even had the sharp, penetrating gaze that shook people to their core. But he was also young, merely 28, having spent his entire adult life leading this circle of drug smugglers, thieves, conmen, and hitmen. They were the best of the best, pulling off heists unlike anything New York had experienced before, all while remaining untouchable by the authorities. He had the longest streak of all the members of the ring, with none of his men being convicted successfully for the last two years. It was a source of pride for the young mastermind.

But, of course, such a thing came with a price, and here it was a more dangerous opponent. Nicholas had soon realized that he was drawing attention from larger authorities and more powerful organizations, and attention was the one thing that was most dangerous. He scaled back operations, sending many underground to operate in a more expensive, but most clandestine manner. After all, he still made profits, and that was what mattered in the long run. Still, numerous FBI agents had turned up in their organization's midst, leaving him no alternative but to eliminate them in a suitably horrible and terrible manner.

Only to deter future operatives, of course. Nothing personal.

On this particular evening, Nicholas sat in his personal office, the central room of a sprawling manor estate, with a wall of glass facing an azure pool and emerald lawn, sunlight streaming in behind him. Upon a flat monitor dominating the oak desk, a young woman, in only underwear and a tanktop, sat on a metal chair in a sparse room. It had been so long since he had seen her, and she had changed considerably. While others in their ring might harbor anger or hatred for this woman, he felt little along those lines.

While her father had brought down the leadership of their ring, it was that upset that allowed him to take control of his organization. After all, if not for that, he would have been waiting for his own father to die before the power came into his hands, and that could have taken a long while. But her father had gotten them all locked away - something the other families harbored anger and hatred about to this day - and Nicholas had taken the reins to the organization at 18. Perhaps it was fate.

That was a decade ago, and then suddenly Iris had reappeared after all that time, seemingly out of nowhere, in a jail cell with one of the ring's own operatives. Grand larceny. Drug dealing. Possession of stolen goods. What had she been doing? Where had she been? All of these questions rolled about in Nicholas's mind, all making him wildly uncomfortable. She was an unknown variable, and for a man who knew exactly the way he wanting things done, and exactly how things were supposed to go, that was unacceptable.

But he couldn't have her turning up dead, however. He knew that another dead body would only draw more attention to their organization and their ring once more, and that was equally unacceptable. And so, before any of the other leaders had a chance to enact their revenge on her father using her as a proxy, he had her abducted and brought here, to his manor, a large, sandstone structure a short ways from New York City, the headquarters of his operations. It was underneath that building that she now paced, and he watched.

Having seemingly made a decision, he stood, buttoning the front of his suitcoat and running his fingers through his hair as he stepped out of the office, at which point his assistant stood from her desk in the atrium.

"Mr. Occisor, Mr. DuPont just called. The Dali piece - 'Love's Promise' - just sold for $6,500." She said, passing a small slip of paper, which Nicholas caught between slim, dexterous fingers.

"Excellent. Have the money wired to the appropriate accounts and tell Mr. DuPont that he can expect his commission by this evening. I know his normal rate is five percent, but send him ten this time. I like him and don't want someone else stealing my best art dealer."

"Of course, sir." his assistant said, vanishing back behind her own glass desk and setting back to her computer. The tall, dangerous man continued on his way, down a set of side steps to the basement, a surprisingly clean concrete hallway, with multiple adjoining rooms, which served as storage areas. Or cells.

Without a pause, Nicholas stepped through one door, letting it close behind him as he surveyed the woman from behind. She turned in her chair, locking her gaze with his. His pale green eyes looked straight through her.

"Miss Iris Hannigan. It's been a very long time. My, how you've changed." He said, his voice light and amused.

 

[pariah]

Jade and chartreuse collided and Iris felt the air suck right out of her lungs. Her gaze dropped from his own and played over his face and then fell to her lap, seemingly unable to keep the eye contact. A sense of relief warmed her bones, but Iris still sat with a cold stone in her belly. It had been Nicky who picked her up after all, and not one of the other families, but there was still no telling how he would respond to her presence. Her mission relied on his sympathy and belief of what she would have to say next, and that he wouldn’t punish her for what her father had done to his.

Rolling her tongue over her lower lip, she drew it in between her teeth in a swift motion reminiscent of when she was a child. A genuine display of nervousness that she had never been able to shake. Iris had changed, drastically, since Nicky had seen her last, but there were parts of her that were still familiar. Gestures and mannerisms that bespoke of simpler times. Subconsciously, perhaps, she was using those habits to gain favor, but outwardly she appeared completely anxious.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Iris exhaled with a short laugh that did not at all make it seem like she was happy to see him. Quite the opposite, in fact. Shaking her head, she turned her gaze away from him completely before standing from her chair and turning to face him. Arms crossed, hip popped out to the side and fingers tapping her inner arm as she looked him over.

”Hey, Nicky...”

She used his childhood nickname, and there were memories attached to it. They hung in the air between them, like sharks in the water, waiting for Iris to break. Her lips turned down in a frown, and her gaze wavered again. It sounded so foreign to her after all these years, but felt absolutely familiar on her tongue. She rolled it around in her mouth like a pill, eyes shimmering before she swallowed and dropped her hands to hook on her hips and eyes on her toes.

”... Its, uh… It’s been a long time.”

Her tongue pushed against her cheek briefly and her lips twisted up in a quick smile before the appearance of happiness faded and her eyes rolled back to his face.

He looked good. And a lot like his dad. Their dads had been best friends, to the point where Iris grew up calling Mr. Occisor “uncle” and Nicky had been like a brother to her. There wasn’t a family picture on either side without Nicholas and Iris in it together. Her mind continued to fall down the rabbit hole. Memories of following him around, of annoying him and fighting like siblings. Of him getting mad at her and shoving her. Of him beating up that snot-nosed prick Ricky when he’d made her cry.

"You know if you wanted me over all you had to do was ask," She tried to joke, running her hands over the raw lines on her wrists where she’d fought the zip ties. "You didn't have to send such an assertive invitation."

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas's eyes wavered only slightly down her body before locking on her eyes with that unwavering intensity. Her little nibbling at her bottom lip was enough to bring the smallest smirk to his, his eyes softening ever so slightly. Her mannerisms were easy for him to read - nervous, uncomfortable, uncertain. He had always been charismatic and a people person, and she was no exception. There were flashes of memories that accompanied every little quirk, however, of how he had roughed her up as a young boy, infuriated by her annoying antics. Then how his father had sat him down one day, saying that he "needed to be nice, protect Iris" because "you might marry her someday." After all, it only made sense, one powerful heir to the crime ring marrying another. Of course, that all fell apart as her father betrayed the group.

"I haven't had anyone dare call me Nicky in ten years." He commented with a soft laugh. "A long time indeed. You've changed, though they're changes I must admit to enjoy."

She was different beyond measure, however. Tattoos working the surface of her body, though they suited her nicely. Certainly more attractive and more sensual, in a way. Perhaps intentional, perhaps not. Of course, she had been eleven when he had last seen her. Hardly even beginning her transformation into a young woman, but he had been 18, a young man, tall, lean, fit. He hadn't really considered his father's words a possibility at the time. But now, looking at the woman she had become, he could certainly see where his father might have been right, if things had all gone according to plan.

"Ah, well. I'm a rather assertive person." He said with a flash of a smile. "Besides, I knew I needed to snatch you up before one of my associates did. While I'm of the belief that your father cheated you just as much as the rest of us, the others don't quite agree. And yet, you risked returning to New York. You must imagine how surprised I was to hear that."

Nicholas leaned easily against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, hands lightly clasped behind his back. With his suit and his relaxed manner, he looked like a perfect gentleman. He doubted that would deceive this particular woman quite as easily as it had girls before her. After all, if she was back, she had to have heard about the ring through underground circles, and had to be in on the latest news. After all, a dead FBI agent never stays quiet, and though Nicholas didn't like the dirty work, he had no problems ordering it to be done.

In a slow, deliberate motion, he stepped forward, a finger slowly trailing down her jawline. "And yet you don't seem happy to see me either. Of the people who could have arranged an invitation like that, aren't I the best possible outcome?" He teased, that small, playful smirk on his lips.

 

[pariah]

She remained quiet, standing as still as her nerves would allow, listening to him talk to her. Iris was surprised at how nostalgic it made her, if nostalgic was even the right word. In a flash, and entirely different future played out before her. A What If that made Iris unable to hold Nicky’s gaze any longer, less her mind linger too long on kisses she never had, long nights that would have been hers, and a family and lifestyle that would have been morally black but comfortable. Familiar. And with Nicky…? She imagined it would have been safe.

But would she have been happy?

Her mind flashed back to her partner, David, and their last night together. The thought of him anchored her once again in the present, and her hand itched from the memory of when he’d last held it. She exhaled and lifted her eyes up to meet Nick’s again, watching how he looked over her. She wondered if he questioned the same things she did. The same futures that they may have shared.

Much like he studied her, noting the differences and similarities to the child he’d watched grow up, Iris did the same. The way he held himself. Confident, relaxed, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on her. He held himself in a way of a man who didn’t need to defend himself, because no one would be foolish enough to attack him. He held himself in a way that spoke of being unafraid to pull the trigger, or send the order. A chill ran down Iris’ spine as his eyes lingered on her, remembering the photographs and the autopsy reports of the men who had tried to do what she was doing before her. Would her execution be just as ruthless?

An inner voice whispered, sounding much like David, reminding her to trust her gut and be strong, as she watched Nicholas leaning back and studying her. Like he was trying to get a true taste of her. To know on which side of the line she truly stood. She wondered what he saw…

Iris’s eyes lifted to hold his as he pushed off the wall and came closer. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her lips pursing and her body shifting under the weight of his approach but she held her ground. Even has he lifted his hand and touched her. It took every ounce of her will to not flinch away.

“I had to come back,” She started, her lower lip trembling as the emotions welled. She licked her lips, swiping away at the revealing tremble, even as his hand lingered near her cheek. “I had to come and…” Exhaling, she shook her head and turned her cheek away as her hand lifted up to rub over the other cheek; nearly pressing her face into his hand if only for a moment before she looked up at him. There was genuine fear in her eyes.

“Bruno Moretti found me.”

Because of this mission, her identity truly had been revealed. Her location. Everything. She hadn’t even been in New York when the thugs had tried to jump her. They’d driven her here. She hadn’t wanted to find Nicky for another two weeks. She needed more time…there were other things to prepare for, but word spread quickly in the underground and before she’d had a chance to cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s, she was forced to make the leap back in.

“I got busted, but the cop fucked up and I got off. I thought I was good, you know? I hadn’t been busted in the whole time I was working since I left my folks. I wasn’t anywhere near anyone’s territory and I wasn’t using my real name, but the fucking goons almost got me.”

She rolled those large, sharp green eyes back up to his with the subtle shake of her head; drawing her lower lip between her teeth again for just a second before she caught herself. She didn’t want to keep showing him just how uncomfortable she was. He’d always been able to read her like a book.

“I saw Baby when I was locked up. She must have recognized me. I wasn’t going to come back, but now I-”

Iris cut herself off and dropped back down on the chair, her hands twisting together in her lap as she shook her head and lifted her gaze back up to his.

“Everyone I was working with before won’t help me now that they know who I am. I’m on my own, and all those guys are coming after me for something I didn’t even do.”

It was all true, of course. People were hunting her down. Word that Iris Hannigan had been spotted in LA county had spread through the community like wildfire. People had been tracking her across the country. Men with blood to spill keeping tabs on where she fled to. She had managed a flight from LAX to JFK under her alias but as soon as she landed the dogs were out. She’d just made it into Chinatown when Nicholas’ own men had nabbed her. And not a moment too soon, as they would have reported to him. She was about a hot minute away from getting dragged into the back of a much less welcoming van.

“So no, I’m not happy to see you, because I don’t know if you’re going to kill me, hand me off to the highest bidder to be killed or what, but I had to come back here to try and find you. I was just hoping our reunion would be on my terms.”

Iris continued to hold his eyes, this time more than fear in their depths. There was determination. And hope.

“I didn’t know what my dad was doing. I didn’t know he was going to betray the families, and try to burn it all to the ground. I didn’t know he would rat everyone out to save his own tail. Please… Nicky. Nicholas. Whatever the hell you want me to call you. Believe me. Please. I need your help.”

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas seemed to take her in, observe her, without judgement or decision just yet, instead merely absorbing all of the information she provided. Though unknown to her, he was more than a little skeptical that she would reappear out of nowhere after ten years of silence and total secrecy. His agents and information network had been totally unable to locate her during that time, and such a hidden nature was often difficult without assistance from the government.

Of course, he had expected the witness protection program to have harbored her and kept her safe and hidden for a few years, but as soon as she broke off ties with her parents and started her own little life of crime, that all would have fallen apart. Or it would have at least made the facade more difficult to keep. It didn't make sense that the first that he would hear of Iris Hannigan would be from a jail cell.

Unless, of course, what she was telling him wasn't quite the truth, despite all of the facts that backed it up. He was certainly intrigued, but he was also careful. Perhaps other criminal leaders close to him might have let their emotions get the better of them in this regard, but he had been meticulous in his methods. And he wouldn't give away his suspicious nature just yet.

As she mentioned Bruno Moretti, Nicholas openly scowled. Though he and Moretti might technically play for the same team, there was no love between the two men. Moretti was far older, easily twice Nicholas's age, and stubborn in his methods. There was little the two of them agreed upon, and Moretti took Nicholas's alternate way of operating and refusal to use the traditional methods of crime as a personal insult.

If Nicholas Occisor was a scalpel, Bruno Moretti was a club. Or perhaps a grenade.

"Moretti's a fool, but a powerful fool." He commented. "My men noticed another few teams watching you as you made your way through Chinatown. It's rare I do anything on anyone's terms but my own, darling Iris. You should be happy to see me, because I'm not in the business of selling people off to be killed. Most of the time, at least. And I think it's pretty clear I don't harbor any hard feelings toward you. Honestly, your father provided the opportunity for me to take control of my family and my part of the ring, so I have no intention of killing you either." He paused, tapping an index finger against his lips as she dropped to the metal chair. His intense eyes gazed down at her, musing, examining, thinking. Her eyes held his, a brave determination in them.

He chuckled softly as she tried to determine what to call him, waving a hand dismissively. "Nicky is fine, but only from you. Don't you dare introduce me like that. Ever." He said with a soft laugh, pacing the concrete floor in front of her. "Iris... I'd like to help you. But doing so will take a considerable amount of resources. I only have so much influence, and little of that influence will stop Moretti." He paused, turning to consider her once more with those intent eyes and piercing gaze.

"What can you offer me, Iris?" he asked, a question, not a demand. Though from the lips of another it might have been threatening, instead his was curious, as if wondering if she would be worth the risk. "What are your skills? What have you been up to the last ten years that you might be able to do in my service? I'm not quite in the business of offering protection for free." He admitted with a small smile. "But if you can work for me, prove your worth and trustworthiness, then I will grant you refuge here. You will, of course, have to stay in this manor, as almost all of my other safe houses are known to the other families, but I can provide better accomodations than this room here." He commented with a smirk, a look that he did so often there were already small wrinkles in his skin from the playful smile.

His youthful appearance sometimes distracted from his dangerous nature, something he played with very easily and very skillfully. It was a critical part of his charm and his ability as a leader, to convince people that he was simply another young man, taking charge because that was what he had to do.

Internally, he was already planning how to keep an eye on her. These events and her return were odd and curious, but could just as easily be exactly as she described them. After all, he had been watching her just as long as the others had been hunting her, and her escape from LA was just as she described. But risks were unacceptable, and so even as they spoke, he had a few of his men planting a small bug and tracker in her cell phone, as well as setting and activating a few bugs in the guest room he intended for her to use. Even if she discovered them and challenged his trust of her, it could all be explained by that simple explanation: in this world, it was far better safe than dead.

And, after all, she had no one else to turn to, right? She would simply have to take what he threw at her, even if that was more demanding than she expected.

 

[pariah]

It was playing out just as the Bureau had hoped and planned it to. Iris was both relieved, and afraid, all at the same time, though she was trying not to count her ducks before they hatched. Nicholas Occisor was only telling her that he didn’t plan on killing her, not that he wouldn’t outright. And he was weighing his advantage as her protector. What could she offer him in return? What possibly could a young woman like Iris, who had been under government assistance and protection, and then got popped, possibly do to help him? What were her skill sets? If business was even what he was talking about.

Iris licked her lips, staring up at the boy she’d grown up with, and prepared to barter for her life.

”Of course I’ll work for you. I’ll do whatever you need. Nicky, I-”

She cut herself off, clearing her throat and shaking her head as she reached up and raked her hands through her hair; agitated though barely managing to keep herself together. The longer she sat in this room, surrounded by cold concrete walls and stainless steel in only her underwear and a tank, the more exposed and threatened she felt. Even Nick, as he stood over her with his charming smile on his face didn’t retract from him regarding her with the cool detachment of an art dealer examining a new painting.

More and more like his father, she was reminded. But there was finesse to Nick that her Uncle Occisor hadn’t had. Rolling her tongue over her lips, Iris lifted herself up to her feet again; fingers twisted together in front of her stomach. A delicate sliver of abdomen showing beneath the lifted tank top as tattooed as the rest of her. It gave wonder if she were completely covered, or if there were any spots left where the smooth ivory was left untarnished.

Inhaling slowly, she exhaled as her eyes lifted up to meet his. ”I missed this life. I missed the families. I missed… I missed you.”

Iris shook her head again, smirking at herself. ”I’m not trying to make a grand gesture of love and affection. You were a real dick, but... absence makes the heart grow fonder, or some bullshit like that.”

There was the faintest hint to a laugh as she lifted that gaze up to lock with his again.

”I am a great fucking shot, good with numbers, and people. As long as those people don’t know who I am or don’t care, or, I imagine, if I had Nicholas Occisor telling those who do know me saying I’m off limits. I had small time runners doing big time runs and it worked flawlessly. We flooded the smaller counties with counterfeits which climbed up to the medium and then large counties. By the time anyone caught on, there was no way to trace anything back to us. It wasn’t glamorous, but it worked, and it was comfortable.

I got greedy. I thought I was making it, ya know. Doing something for myself. Building an empire, even if it was a small one. I fucked up.”

She was realizing this wasn’t much to offer to a crime boss, but there was still an ace up her sleeve. One that she imagined Nicky already knew about, and was counting on.

”And if that’s not enough… my name is.”

Her eyes searched his, waiting for him to either scoff or understand what she was saying.

”When my dad did what he did, he forfeited the empire he would have inherited from my grandfather. After my grandfather died, the empire has been hanging out in limbo. I think you know what me being back means.”

Iris had been the only child of an only child. Her grandfather’s money, his estate, his everything, had been willed to her once her father had forfeited everything in his betrayal. The government had no claim on her grandfather’s estate. It had been made legally as far as anyone could ever prove, and over time… When she had been taken into witness protection, before the age of eighteen, many believed that meant her claim to the estate was void, but it hadn’t been. When her grandfather had passed, Iris had been only sixteen, and no one knew where to find her.

Her coming back now, at the legally appropriate age of twenty-three, after over a decade of accumulated interest, all of those resources were hers… And they were not small pennies. Not even to Nick.

”I couldn’t claim it without everyone knowing where I was, that I was alive… But it’s too late to fade back into the shadows now. I am the sole Hannigan still alive. Everything my grandfather built is mine.”

She didn’t break eye contact. Her only flinch was the waiver of her voice when she claimed to be the only Hannigan still alive.

”I can offer that to you. Access to those resources… I just want to be alive, and comfortable, and safe. Please.”

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas nodded slowly, considering the usefulness of Iris Hannigan as an operative. Good shot, good with numbers... Both of those could come in handy. He was running several tight operations, ones that would require a trained eye for accounting and the ability to handle tough situations.

He was distracted by that strip of stomach that was bared under her tank top, a delightful exposition that brought that very question to his mind. There was part of him that wondered if he would ever know, if Iris would resist his charms any better than most of the women he had seduced. Of course, more often than not his seduction had been for personal gain more than sex, but why not have both?

"Along the same vein, I must admit to having missed you as well." he commented with a small smile. "It's more than a little exciting to see that you've gained confidence and independence. It suits you well." he said, eyes sweeping up and down her body. "You're certainly not wrong, I was an ass as a child. And as a teen. There are probably those who would say I'm still a dick, but most of those who share my company find me charming. I think." he added with a smile and a soft laugh.

Then she added that she had her name, and he quirked an eyebrow, not yet understanding. Her name? All her name was associated with was treachery and the estate her father had aban... oh.

Oh this was perfect.

A slow smirk came across Nicholas's lips as she offered him the resources of the Hannigan estate and wealth. He nodded approvingly. He had once looked at the Hannigan empire with the eye of someone who intended to marry into it, and was more than pleased to find it was prosperous and well-connected. Now, it had depreciated slightly over ten years without care, but the wealthy had simply grown, and so it was still worthy of consideration.

"You're the last of the Hannigan line, then? There will be many who will be displeased to hear that your father is gone, but I am not one of them, so I am sorry for your loss." He commented smoothly, a note of sympathy in his voice. "However, what you're offering me is quite a prize. It almost sounds too good to be true." He commented.

Something still seemed off in this scene, something he was missing to make this all make sense. She wanted protection and safety, but had her grandfather's estate at her disposal? Sure, it couldn't keep her safe, but it was not useless. There was a puzzle piece missing here, but for the time, he couldn't fathom what might be on it. And so the only logical path was forward.

"I cannot possibly turn down a deal like that." he said, nodding. "Iris, I'm more than willing to offer protection and comfort in exchange for your assistance in my operations and the resources of your family estate." He said, offering her his hand. "Now, with the unpleasantness out of the way, would you like to see the manor and your rooms?" He offered, opening the door of the small cell-like room into the long, clean hallway of his basement. "I can't imagine you'd like to stay in the cellar any longer than you have to."

 

[pariah]

“We both know that I wouldn’t make it to the attorney’s office or the bank to claim my assets without your help,” Iris said in response for her offer being too good to be true. “And if I did, I may only have a day to enjoy it before Moretti or one of the other families came for me. If I want any access to it at all, even if it’s to buy my protection, it has to be through you.”

To her it was so simple and clear cut. Iris, without Nicholas Occisor, was a dead Iris. If she was lucky. The families had their own ways of enacting revenge, and the heads of most of the families had faced serious jail time or were still locked up. Their own empires had been flipped upside down and shaken for all they were worth. Her father’s betrayal had nearly burnt the entire coalition to the ground. Nicholas had nearly single-handedly kept the operations moving forward, and had protected his piece of the pie from the flames and in turn - many of the others. He was young, and may not handle his day to day the same as their fathers had, but his word held a lot of weight. A lot. If he was to tell the other families she was off limits, than they’d be foolish to go behind his back.

Still, there were some thirsts for vengeance that overpowered sense. She knew she wouldn’t be able to venture freely through the city even with Nicholas’ protection.

Though it didn’t seem as though that would be a problem. As he smiled and held out his hand to her, Iris slid her own into his palm. Her hand was much smaller, but had the telltale callouses of someone who handled a gun. She stepped closer to him without thinking, her eyes lifted up to his as the relief was clear on her face. She felt the urge to hug him, old familiarities nearly having her step right into the shelter of his shoulders, though she managed to hold herself back. Standing closer than anyone else may have, but not so close as to invite more intimate gestures. It was clear she was struggling on how to handle her past relationship with him. The bond that by now perhaps would have grown into something she couldn’t put a word to.

“Thank you, Nicky.”

Taking her hand back, Iris nodded when he asked if she’d like to get out of the cellar. Absolutely.

There was still hesitation when she moved to follow him, but it was very little, and as she stepped out of the room and into the hallway he was better able to note the way she moved; graceful but strong; like an athlete. Her legs were long, lean, and sculpted, and the pert roundness of her ass curving out from the boyshorts-styled underwear she wore definitely drew attention. Her mother had been a gorgeous woman, so much of what Iris presented as an adult could be attributed to her genes, but it was clear that she also took care of herself physically and nutritionally.

Runners always had to be in great shape. It seemed as though Iris had took that very seriously.

Turning her head to look at him over her shoulder as she passed by, Iris’ evergreen gaze lingered on his before she offered a small smile as he came beside her and lead her down the hallway. Her eyes danced over everything; curiosity as plain on her face as the apprehension had been when he’d first entered the room she had been kept in. Her hands moved over her wrists soothingly as she walked; the impressions the zip ties made fading but the redness still prominent; though it didn’t seem to bother her beyond the absent touching.

Once they made it to where Nicholas planned on keeping Iris, she stepped into the room and looked around with a raised eyebrow and smirk.

“Glad to see you’ve done well for yourself,” she mused; a new glint in her eye as she half turned her body to look over at him. “How many men will be watching the hidden cameras when I change?”

She expected bugs in her room. Cameras, microphones, whatever he had. If the situation was reversed, she’d do the same thing.

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas could feel the callouses on her hand, the familiar locations, the same roughness in the same places as many of the men he had hired. After shaking hands like that for years, you got to know the feeling. He quirked an eyebrow slightly. Familiar with guns then. She had picked up the skills of the trade in the last few years. Nicholas did not particularly like guns or violence himself, preferring the more subtle, graceful, tricky crimes, though sometimes violence was the only possible route of action. In those times, he issued the orders, and, on rare occasion, dealt a blow himself, though he would go to extremes to avoid such an outcome. It was strange that Iris had turned out so differently, though perhaps that was merely a result of her father's betrayal. She would have never been forced to work such low and base crimes if her father hadn't turned his back on the coalition.

But these thoughts moved out of his brain as she moved past him, his eyes meeting hers and then sliding down her slim, graceful form without shame or hesitation, clearly intending for her to know that he was appreciating her form. That moment of closeness had taunted him with the possibility of more, of things that might have been, and then she was past, her glittering green eyes giving him a little glance as she slipped past. He took no shame in enjoying the view of her, particularly as he directed her up the stairs and into the main part of the house. She was certainly attractive, and part of him burned with the desire to have her, but he restrained himself. If she was to work for him and live in this manor, there would be plenty of chances to see exactly how he might get her into his bed. Patience and planning. Nicholas, as a powerful figure, enjoyed getting what he wanted, even from those close to him.

His hand on the small of her back guided her to one of the luxuriously decorated and designed guest rooms in the manor, and he gave her a charming smile as she commented on his success. "It's quite easy to do well when most of your competitors are afraid to compete." He said with a laugh. As she mused over the cameras and men watching her, he playfully pretended to be offended.

"Iris! I'm shocked that you would suggest such a thing." He exclaimed in mock horror, then dropped the pretense almost instantly, shaking his head. "The manor itself is entirely under surveillance at all times, but only the external cameras and hallways are monitored live. The rooms are recorded and saved on the server for thirty days, and then deleted. Only I have access to those." He paused, laughed, and gave her a smile. "I suppose the answer to your question would be one, then. But I'm a gentleman, of course! Surely you noticed that my men kept their hands to themselves on the way here?" He teased. He left out the part where he threatened to have their hands removed if they didn't respect her, beyond the strip search for weaponry.

 

[pariah]

Before going undercover, Iris had had a very serious conversation with David about what that might mean. She remembered the feeling, sitting down at his dining room table, dinner turning cold before her as they went over the details of her mission. He was her handler. The person she contacted if she was in trouble, losing herself, or needed to get out. But he was also her lover. Her partner. The man she had been with since she first joined the Bureau. He was her anchor to the woman Iris had designed herself to be under the identity WPP had given her. To him, she was Allison. He was who she wanted to marry, to be with. And he had no idea who Iris was.

In the span of a handful of evenings, Allison had revealed Iris to David piece by piece. They worked over her history, her thought process, and most importantly… what Nicholas Occisor would mean to her.

What she would mean to him.

The lengths she was willing to go to prove to Nicholas that she was loyal.

It had not been a comfortable conversation, but it had been necessary. All possibilities were discussed, even what would happen to them if she ended up pregnant while on the mission, and she had watched the way David’s eyes tightened whenever an intimate relationship with Nicky was discussed or brushed over. How the muscle in his jaw twitched when she said his name.

What had not crossed her mind, was the possibility that Iris would want to sleep with Nicholas. That she something in her would be so attracted that the excuse of being undercover would be her all too convenient scapegoat…

”Of course I did,” Iris said, all seriousness back in her expression and tone of voice after the two had shared a mutual amusement over her privacy. ”I appreciated that, by the way.”

Others would not have been so polite. Sexual abuse was one of the factors she had prepared herself for mentally and emotionally when she’d accepted this job. To find that his men had been as respectable as possible given the circumstances, and that he himself would be the only one with access to the surveillance set up in her room, Iris was… impressed. Relieved. And perhaps a little… excited? She swallowed, turning her eyes around the room again. There was no telling where those cameras were. He wanted an illusion of privacy, for her to get comfortable. It was smart, especially if she was trying to double cross him.

To be comfortable meant to make a mistake. She would have to be diligent in reminding herself that this was not where she belonged - no matter how at home Nicky made her feel.

As he spoke his final piece before leaving her alone, she could not help but take in how he looked at her. He wasn’t shy in where his gaze lingered. On how his eyes raked over her body. It made her feel warm, her stomach churning with butterflies when his gaze lingered on her legs or her chest. She drew her lower lip into her mouth; dragging her teeth over the soft pillow before she smirked and approached as he backed into the doorway to leave her alone to get acquainted with her room. Her hand slid up the door jam, her eyes locked with his like a pair of loaded guns as she moved to lay her other hand over the door handle to her side. She hovered there in the threshold, letting her eyes pour into his own as she felt herself smile naturally. Genuinely. Iris thought she would have to fake it, but it wasn’t even close. She felt like she was eleven again, with a silly little school girl crush on the bad boy.

”Nicky… can we have dinner later? Maybe take some time to catch up? Just as old friends.”

That… was not a part of the plan. The strategy was to have Nick come to her. To want to join her for dinner, for drinks… to bring her in, and not have her ask. Inwardly she cursed herself for the impulsiveness, but she had been unable to stop herself. When he’d been exiting the room, ready to go off and do whatever it was he had to do, she felt a pit in her stomach. And it was too late now. The request was in the air between them, and Iris couldn’t help but watch the way his lips twisted in amusement before he answered her.

 

[Machiavelli]

The little bite at her lower lip told him far more than she might have guessed, betraying her nervousness, her excitement, and even a little hint of her attraction. Her eyes locked with his held an intensity and a spark that he craved and fed on, an excitement and a thrill that intoxicated him. He made no attempt to disguise the appreciation and desire in his own gaze, and instead let her see every last bit of it. There was nothing to be gained in shyness or holding back.

He gave her a little smile. "My father told me at thirteen that I needed to be nice to you, to protect you. Now it's just a habit, it seems." he said with a quiet laugh, "Your clothes are likely in the dresser, along with anything you were carrying. There are also some other garments in there, should you want to wear something else." he added, pacing easily to the door as he prepared to depart, to return to a few hours of planning, organizing, and negotiating before the end of the day. But she hovered not to far from him, an action that drew his attention as he moved away and she stood in the doorframe, as if awaiting something.

Then she let herself go, making that little request of him, to which he allowed an amused, but pleased expression to come to his face. "Certainly. Six thirty, on the patio on the second floor. I'll have dinner prepared. But it needn't be just as old friends." He teased with a charming smile, giving her a quick wink. "Until then, feel free to explore the house - just don't pick any locks. I'll see you then, Iris." He said, smiled, and then turned and departed, his slim figure vanishing down the hallway and around a corner.

He found his own way back to his personal office, sinking into the antique leather armchair that contrasted pleasantly with the modern glass and steel of his desk. With a soft sigh, he picked up the phone on the aforementioned desk and dialed a number quickly. After two rings, a man answered. "Sir?"

"Good afternoon, Emil. Would you put out the word to the underground and my associates that Iris Hannigan is under the protection of House Occisor, and that any harm to her will be treated as both a violation of my trust and a direct move against my organization?"

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"Yes. Do you remember the opportunity we discussed last time we spoke?"

"Yes, sir. Do you think Miss Hannigan will be suited to the task?"

"She might. I'll propose it to her tonight or tomorrow. I'm going to put together the plan for the operation as soon as we are finished with this conversation. Make sure the other operatives are still on board."

"Yes, sir."

"Good man, Emil. How's the family?"

"The wife and daughter are fine, sir. Ricardo is not. He needs another surgery and there's no way we..."

Nicholas cut him off easily. "Take your son to have the surgery done, Emil. I'll cover it."

"Sir?"

"Seven years of loyalty and service don't go unnoticed by me, Emil. Send your son to surgery, and I'll pay for it."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you."

"Of course. You've never failed me. Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, sir."

Placing the handset back on the base, Nicholas tapped the keyboard to his laptop, which lit up once more. There, on the screen, was his next prize:

World's Largest Sapphire to be Displayed at NYC Metropolitan Museum of Art

Another perfect prize. And a value of $300 million. More than enough to cover Emil's son's surgery, operation costs in order to take it, and have some profit. And a perfect time to test the loyalty of Iris, to see what she was willing to do in order to earn her keep. Not that the operation would be dangerous if all went well - Nicholas hated violence in his heists, and preferred to work his way around it, and to use trickery to take what he wanted. He was clever, and cleverness meant no need for force.

Standing, he moved to a bookshelf where he had stored plans for various operations. He had known that at some time, the Museum of Art would have something worth taking, and this seemed like the perfect time to take this plan out of the mothballs. Unrolling the bound papers, he mused over the floorplans of the building.

After several minutes of consideration, he shook his head. There wasn't enough information here. He would have to go to the museum to see it first hand, to know what the security would be like. No doubt he wouldn't be able to pull of the heist during the day, not if the sapphire was on display at all times. But a night break-in left far more possibilities open for problems, and that was not an option he liked terribly much.

Unless there was a way to get all of the visitors away from the sapphire for a period...

Ideas still mused in his head as he glanced up at the clock, which now read 6:15. Nodded slightly, he closed the laptop, pursing his lips. There was a beginning of a plan, here. Now just to bring it to a full, complete operation, with nothing left unconsidered or ignored.

However, there were more important things now - dinner with a beautiful woman.

 

[pariah]

The words caressed her ears, and Iris’ cheeks turned the softest shade of pink in response. To be protected… it felt foreign. Of course the government had protected her when she was a teenager, as much as the laws and tax dollars allowed, but that felt more like imprisonment. Confinement. Punishment. This… to have Nicky look her in the eyes and tell her it was old habit to make sure she was okay sent a storm of butterflies free in her stomach. She couldn’t stop her smile. She knew in her heart that David would protect her if the moment came, and that he actively sought to keep her safe even when she couldn’t see it, but it was just different coming from Nick. It was more coming from him.

And then he accepted her dinner invitation. She smiled brightly, exhaling a short breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in anticipation.

”See you then.”

As he disappeared around the corner, Iris shut the door of her new room and pressed herself against the door; palms against the cool wood on either side of her forehead as she gave herself a few minutes to just breathe.

When she pulled back, Iris realized she was trembling. All the adrenaline from the last forty-eight hours dissipating as she was finally left alone with the certainty that it was Nicholas Occisor who had abducted her, and that she was completely attracted to him. She idly thought that at least part of her mission would be easy, and let out a snort as she shook her head. Reaching up, she raked her fingers through her hair and then turned, looking out over her room.

She needed to keep her mind busy. Focus on the task at hand, and not let herself be overwhelmed with how fucking guilty she was suddenly feeling about David.

Moving through her room, Iris explored. She ran her hands over the cold, marble tops of the dressers and bedside tables. She looked through the drawers, finding all of the items she had had with her were here and organized - except for her gun. That little detail didn’t surprise her anymore than the admission that there were cameras in the room. There were other items, too, of course. Things she needed, but hadn’t had with her when she’d been taken. Hygienic items such as a toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss. Things for her hair, for makeup, the works. In fact, the more she searched, the more she found. Things even like tampons. She rose her eyebrows, smirking and then shaking her head before tucking the things she found back in their places. Whoever had done the shopping had not missed a single thing.

The closet also had more than just her jeans and jacket. The clothing inside ranged from comfy and casual to haute couture. She ran her fingers along one of the dresses, her eyebrows raised as high as they could go when the lace ensemble proved itself to be completely… lace. She shook her head, not able to imagine a scenario where she’d wear something so exposing like this, before hanging it back up and exiting the closet with something a little less revealing in her hands.

Draping the garment across the bed, Iris made her way into the bathroom and made her way across the tiled floor to the ridiculously large shower. She was pretty sure her first apartment could fit in the bathroom alone, and the thought both amused her and made her heart ache as she reached for the gauges and started the water. It wasn’t long before steam was billowing out from the glass walls. Iris removed herself from the tank and panties and stepped inside; hissing initially from the sudden heat but eventually melting under the spray. The water helped her relax; helped take her mind off David, and Nick, and everything in between. She exhaled a low, slow breath and just closed her eyes; letting the shower just envelope her for a while.

Unfortunately for Iris, the emotions and the thoughts she kept trying to push down were not going to be ignored. They forced their way to the surface, and not three minutes after she entered the shower, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. The stress, the exhaustion, the fear... It crushed her. And she’d been playing with a brave face, but it had caught up now that she was alone. She imagined David was outside, listening to her on the other side of the door and waiting until she came out, pretending everything was okay, and just took her into his arms. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself; sinking down to sit on the shower floor as the hot water poured over her. Sobs wracked her body, and Iris had no choice but to just ride the wave. She wasn’t sure how long the emotions had spilled out of her for, but the water was still as hot as before when she was done. Numbness weighed over her, and Iris stared off into space as her mind reeled.

Eventually, Iris managed to push herself up. She finished scrubbing herself clean of all the dirt and grime and sweat the last two days on the run had accumulated, and when she was finished, Iris felt a thousand times better. Once dry, she made her way back out to the main room; not a scrap of clothing on her naked body. A piece of her mind thought to cover up, to have some degree of chastity, but then she wondered why… She had seen how he had looked her over. The desire and curiosity apparent. Why not give him a little peek? She’d never been ashamed, or shy, about her body. And, truthfully, she wanted him hungry for her. If seduction was going to be her easiest technique… why not use it?

By the time Iris was done getting ready, it was only half an hour until dinner. The weather outside looked gorgeous, and she thought instead of exploring the house, to instead take a look around the property. She had plenty of time to go exploring the house later. She missed the fresh air after being cooped up for so long.

Making her way out of her room, she eventually found her way to the second floor balcony Nick had mentioned. She let her eyes dance over the table that was prepared briefly before she found her way to the railing. The heat was pleasant, not pressing, and Iris found herself leaning against the balcony with her elbows; the white full-sleeve dress she had put on a delicate and gorgeous contrast to her decorated and dark features. It probably would have made her appear innocent, almost angelic, if the flashes of blue and black ink and wicked glint in her eye weren’t just as obvious as the outfit. She rolled her shoulders back, eyes closing and head tilting back as she inhaled the scents of the flower bushes Nicky had planted along his property.

I could live here forever, came the unbidden thought, startling Iris out of her own mind. She lifted her hands up to brush her hair out of her face as the breeze played with her natural curls, just as she realized she wasn’t alone on the deck.

Turning around, Iris’ eyes met Nicky’s and she smiled; seemingly relaxing back onto the railing as she faced him. Quite the contrast of attire from the outfit he’d first seen her in when she’d arrived by van. Licking her lips, Iris let her eyes fall down to the dress; clinging to her waist and hips in a manner that showed off her curves and shape without being too revealing, and coming to feather softly around her bare feet. She had thought of putting on a pair of the heels or sneakers that had also been in the closet, but had decided against it once she put the dress on. Something just felt right about being barefoot in a summer dress.

”Funny, I don’t remember packing anything like this, and yet… it’s perfectly my size…”

Lifting those chartreuse spheres back up to his, she couldn’t hide her smirk. Was she accusing him of something? Who knew. She seemed to amused, and too enthralled in him, to care.

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas had stepped out onto the patio quietly, enjoying the view of the beautiful woman there, with his estate as a lovely backdrop to her form. He took a moment to unbutton his suitcoat, draping it over the back of his chair and rolling up the cuffs of his shirt to expose his arms in the light heat of the summer evening. Then she turned to face him, a smile curling lightly over his lips as she commented on the dress, and his eyes slid down her form again, once more with no pretense or subtlety. A man who knew what he wanted, and wasn't afraid to let it be obvious.

"What a strange but happy coincidence." He said with a pleasant smile, placing his hands on he chair and pulling it back from the table some, a perfect gentleman as he offered it to her. "It does look delightful on you." He commented easily, adjusting the chair with her in it before pacing around the table to his chair, sinking into it with a soft sigh.

"Now, despite having begun an exciting new business venture, I'm going to rule that this dinner be business-free." Nicholas said with a smile across the table, placing a cloth napkin across his legs. "All of the details for that can wait, and we can enjoy each other's company and catch up. After all, it has been a decade, I'm certain that we're both missing a great deal about each other." He said, pausing to pick up the chilled bottle of wine sitting between them, pouring a half glass in both of the waiting glasses. A white-clad servant appeared from within the house, carrying two crystalline bowls filled with a colorful salad, which he placed before each of them. Dismissing him with a quest 'thank you', Nicholas leaned forward slightly. "So tell me. What has your life been like? Where did you go when witness protection hid you away?" He asked, genuinely curious as to how she dropped off the radar so well. Of course, the government was good at that kind of thing, but nonetheless, it piqued his interest.

 

[pariah]

Iris’ face seemed frozen in that closed-lip smile, her eyes dancing with his as her hands smoothed down to her thighs as she watched him come closer. His eyes never left her, though they moved around plenty, even as he draped his jacket over the back of a chair and stepped forward while rolling up his sleeves. It was incredible how such a simple gesture could be so overtly attractive. To expose the corded flesh of his forearms. She exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the image of David in her mind, when Nicky pulled out a chair for her.

Licking her lips slowly, she pushed off the railing and moved over; sitting down in the chair as he pushed it in. Iris, however, was not so practiced in being doted on. Not anymore. She moved awkwardly, sitting down not quite fast enough and getting the edge of the chair at the backs of her knees. She laughed, embarrassed, and shook her head as she reached up and brushed her hair out of her face and glanced up at him over her shoulder.

”Sorry, I’m not used to stuff like this.”

She reached over and pulled her napkin onto her lap and watched him under the veil of her lashes. He didn’t want to talk about work. That was good. No point in rushing the hand and outing herself. Just some chit chat to learn about each other again. That was also good. Iris needed to know him beyond what the surveillance said. And, selfishly… she simply wanted to know what he had been up to. Maybe how many girlfriends he had had… what he liked in bed…. How big his cock was.

And she hadn’t even had the wine yet.

Reaching over, Iris nodded and smiled as she brought the wine to her lips.

”No business,” she agreed.

Sipping her wine, she cleared her throat and rolled her head a little; attempting to clear those pesky little thoughts as she glanced up at him over the table.

”If you’re trying to find out where the rest of my family is, Nicky, they moved them the day I moved out,” she stated crisply, though there was no anger evident in her voice. Her next smile, genuine but small, relayed that. ”But I spent the rest of my childhood in Loveland, Colorado, and Ashley, Kansas.”

Setting her wine back down, she lifted her gaze up to lock with his.

”They moved us to Ashley first, but I was angry. I acted out, and I told one of my classmates that my dad was a felon and I was being held there against my will.” She smirked and shook her head, laughing softly and then taking another sip. ”We were moved to Loveland immediately. Literally, I came home and my house was packed, and my mom and dad were already gone. The agent put the fear of God in me.” Her mother had been pregnant. Something she wasn’t ready to share with Nick. If she ever would be. The agent had told her that if she did this again, people who hated her dad, people like Nicky’s father, would find them and they would kill all of them. Not just her parents. Her, too. And the little baby her mother was carrying. ”I didn’t step out of line like that again. Well, not really. Not so obviously. But I acted out. Dad taught me a lot in those first years… He took the gloves off, you know? He treated me like I had always wanted to, and I hated it. But it really shaped me.”

Inhaling deeply, she let out a low humming sound and then shook her head, looking over at Nick.

”The truth of it, though, is that it was boring. And it was very… rigid.”

 

[Machiavelli]

Nick only chuckled softly as she accused him of trying to find her family. "Ah ah. I said no business, remember? No side agenda, no plotting. Just conversation with an old friend and new partner." He said, giving her a slight, slim smirk that had wooed women with weaker wills than she. "They hid you well, however. The other families spent many a year trying to find you all. Driven for revenge. I hunted for a month or two, enough to make it seem like I cared about catching the man who put my father away, and then turned my attention to rebuilding operations. After all, it was particularly easy to build my own seat of power and lead our organization when the other families wasted their resources on searching for vengeance.

He picked up his wine glass between slim, capable fingers and lifted it to his lips, taking a long sip of the ruby liquid while his eyes took her in. A slow swallow took that alcohol into his body, and he licked his lips subconsciously as he momentarily wondered over her, how... developed she was. She was a woman now. When he had last seen her, there was no chance that he would have wanted her. But now... Now he wanted to know what kind of sounds she made when pinned to a bed and fucked hard. His eyes flickered with a brief, hot, powerful desire that flashed visibly for a moment and was gone, a fleeting, primal instinct.

Clearing his throat slightly, he forced those thoughts away for the time. He was certain that he could find that out with a little effort.

"I suppose it's only fair that I answer the same question, really." He said, placing the glass down carefully. "My location is easy enough, as I've mostly been here at the manor, save for the occasional vacation I've taken. I've spent much of that time focusing on getting constant operations going. Much of the failure of our predecessors was the drive and desire to lunge for bigger and more impressive heists. While I've not given up on those, I've made sure we have a solid foundation of money-making operations to sustain us as well."

Nicholas paused and chuckled for a moment. "As you can see, I don't often get to relax and ignore work. It permeates even my attempts to deny it. Beyond our operations, I've done little. I toured Italy for a month, and traveled the States to organize a few agreements, but aside from that, my only relief has been the parties of New York. And even those tend to bore me after a while. Nothing particularly compares to the thrill of a heist."

He paused again to turn his attention to the salad and to her. "I suppose that makes it your turn to ask a question of me, hm?" He teased with a chuckle, spearing a carrot from the vibrant salad and placing it between his lips.

His mind was not yet convinced that all of this was what it seemed. After all, her sudden reappearance could not simply be blindly trusted. It was far too extraordinary of an occurrence to have happened by chance, and he was unwilling to let it go. However, she had answered every question flawlessly and without hesitation, though he would certainly see if that would continue.

Though attracted to her, it did not blind him. Nicholas was far too careful for that.

 

[pariah]

The best lies were woven with truth. Iris was able to answer Nicholas’ questions because this operation, this entire mission, was sewn with her true reality. She could look him in the eyes whenever she needed to answer a question of his, or turn her gaze away when the truth was too painful to express. It gave her an incredible sense of authenticity that would be difficult for even the most mastered of lie detectors to see through. And there was hardly a risk of stumbling over the truth when alcohol was involved.

So as she sat across from Nicholas, with his attention on her, she passed every test. At least the ones he could give her now. She shared her life with him. Fact mixed with fiction in such a manner that made it impossible to tell when she wasn’t telling the whole truth. There were moments, of course, that emotion struck her. When she spoke of her family, Iris clammed up a bit. It had not been a pleasant goodbye for her both in truth and fiction. Her alibi played on the truth, and it was a painful one.

As they went back and forth on the questions and answers, and Iris picked at her food as it came in succession, Iris felt… more at home than she had been in a long time. It was a different kind of home. One that she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

By the time their dinner plates were taken, and they were in a couple glasses of wine, Iris’ chair had moved closer to his own. They sat only a few short inches apart, her legs crossed at the knees with her ankle bobbing and rolling in such a way that occasionally she’d brush the fabric of his pants. The cotton of her dress billowed around her knees as she adjusted it on her lap; her eyes smiling more than her lips as she listened to him tell her it was her turn for another question.

In the last hour or so, however long they’d been on this patio, drinking wine and eating and sharing stories, Iris had learned a surprising little amount about Nicky, and yet so much more than she would have ever thought. She learned that it was difficult to catch him off guard, but when she did he had a flare of light in his eyes and a quick twitch at the corner of his mouth that was intoxicating. He was ambidextrous, a tool of his trade, and had developed a taste for wine, whiskey, and, after she had pressed him, women. They shared history of relationships, and Iris admitted that she hadn’t had many. It was difficult to date when you couldn’t be honest about who you were. About who your family was. They talked music, and food, and current affairs.

Both of them skirted topics that were too personal, or too revealing. Both out of caution. Of not being willing to reveal all on the first day. Iris had asked about art, and Nicky had given safe answers, especially since her questions seemed geared toward opening the door into his current business affairs; though Iris was quick to claim she wasn’t trying to break his rules of “no business” with a smile. She in turn had replied with the same caution when it came to anything in regards to her family, or friends she’d made, while she was under witness protection. When asked if she still talked to them, she admitted that she was able to write her mother letters, but she rarely received anything in return.

Too dangerous, she explained. So she never really knew if her mother received her letters or not.

Taking a break from talking, and knowing it was her turn to ask a question, Iris mulled a few things over in her mind. She reached for her glass of wine as the same man who had replaced their salad plates with dinner plates, and then came to retrieve them, returned with two plates of dessert. Her eyes danced over the tiramisu and she smirked, shaking her head as a memory surfaced of Iris whining that the cake tasted funny at a fancy dinner party and embarrassing her mother as she had tried to explain and console Iris. She’d been maybe six or seven, and had nearly thrown a tantrum before Nicky had swept in and shown her where “the good cake” was.

It fluttered away as quickly as it came, and when Iris lifted her eyes back up to meet Nick’s again, they were thoughtful.

”Tell me about your first heart break…?”

She wanted to know about him beyond what his favorite color was. She wanted to know what drove him to wake up in the morning, what motivated him to make it through the day. Iris wanted to know what was beneath his deepest layers. What he thought about love, about religion, about the universe. She wanted to know what turned him on, what made him angry, and what made him truly happy.

 

[Machiavelli]

Their conversation was engaging, like a subtle, quiet battle, with each of them commanding armies that sallied back and forth, poking and prodding and exploring and pushing. His questions explored her past, particularly since she vanished from his eye, and hers were curious toward how his empire grew over that very same time. It was a game, to try to lure information out without giving too much away, and without breaking his rule. But his goal was not to find her family, nor was it to find out everything about that time when she had been incognito. No, his goal was to pull her in. He could tell there was something lingering, something that held her back in that past life, before she had absconded and returned to this one. And if she was going to work for him, he needed her all in.

Of course, he had his own personal motives as well. If he could seduce her into this lifestyle once more, perhaps there was more he could seduce her into.

Her question surprised him slightly, but he met it with the slight curl of a smile and a flash of amusement in his eyes. "Heartbreak, hm?" He said with a laugh, leaning back in his chair, taking a long sip of the intoxicating wine, one of the more expensive varieties that the manor stocked. "A truly romantic would use this opportunity to say something like 'when you left me, all those years ago', but I think we'd both know that to be a lie." He teased with a smirk. "After all, you were, what? Eleven? And I was eighteen. I saw you as a sister, not anything more. Of course, time changes everything." He added, giving her a quick wink.

"No, true heartbreak." He mused. "Hard to say. I dated a couple women, most of which were interested in the wealth and power of the family, not me as a person in any manner, and so I discarded those relationships easily. My first heartbreak would like have been Alia. Seven years ago, I was involved with a young woman at a local university. We met through a charity dinner I attended, and she had no idea of my true nature, involvements, wealth, anything. It lasted four months, but she was the most engaging and lovely woman I had dated. When she discovered who I was and what I did, she couldn't handle that truth, and left me." he paused, his eyes taking on a strange, distant quality for a long moment. "I didn't chase after her - I accepted that some people would never understand this life. But I didn't date anyone for a long while after that. Had a great many one night stands, a few casual relationships, but nothing too serious until years later." He smiled a soft smile. "But I came to realize that she was the first in a trend of smart, sharp, witty women that I would be drawn to."

Breaking slightly from his far-off gaze, his eyes returned to her with a mischievous light. "However empty those relationships that followed Alia were when it came to emotion, they did provide a sort of sexual awakening for me, I suppose. While I wasn't a virgin, I did have a new chance to discover exactly what I liked and didn't." he said with a little smirk, as if teasing her with that little comment and knowing it full well.

 

[pariah]

She laughed, her eyes closing and head tilting back as he commented on romanticism.

”Had you answered with that I would have been concerned,” she teased, shaking her head and lifting her wine back to her lips as she glanced back at him; humor lighting her eyes and dusting her cheeks in pink as he then took his time to think carefully through his answer before revealing it to her.

Her expression sobered as he detailed his first meeting with Alia. How she hadn’t known the truth about him, and in that, she was able to fall for him and not the life. Her mind wandered to David, and how easy it had been to lie to him. How incredibly, selfishly easy it was to spoon feed him the falsehoods of her childhood that she’d grown so practiced in weaving. How hard it had been for David when her true past had been revealed. How hard it was for him to know her by anything and anyone other than Allison Paige.

Iris wondered if she was a terrible person for it. For her lies. For how smoothly they fell from her lips at any given moment. She’d been a terrible liar as a child, or rather she hadn’t felt the need to lie. She had been aggressive in her truth.

“Iris, did you break that vase?”
‘I did,’ she would admit, eyes not wavering from her accuser and a challenge seeded deeply in their depths. Even as a child no older than eight.
“Iris, did you hit that boy in school?”
‘I did, and I’m not sorry about it.’

Now, lying was second nature. It was smooth as honey on her tongue and she had mastered it like an art form. And when her lies were revealed? She stood there, just as daring as when s[/align]he was little, like she had when David had first known the truth. It had broken his heart, to think that the love of his life hadn’t wanted to share the truth of her life with him, even as a part of him understood that she couldn’t, but when he asked her if she had ever wanted to share, ever felt guilty over lying to him, Iris had simply looked up at him, square in the eyes, and told him no.

She’d never forget the look on his face when she told him that.

Iris wondered if he would trust her through this mission, or after it. Part of her wanted him not to. It seemed as though it would just be easier that way. One of the unspoken consequences of her accepting this mission, is that once it is over, Iris was going to have to start all over with a new identity, somewhere else, again, and there was a real chance that David would take that life with her. She loved him, and she enjoyed him, but as Iris sat here face to face with her past, she wasn’t sure if she saw her future in David anymore.

And that was a terrifying thought.

Slowly digging her fork into the corner of the tiramisu, Iris raised her eyebrow and glanced sideways up at Nicholas. That smirk of hers took a more wanton and amused twist, and she lifted the bite up to her lips as she locked her eyes with Nicky’s. He teased her with the comment, she teased him with how her tongue wrapped around the fork and guided the dessert between her lips.

”Is that so?” Iris mused, setting her fork down delicately and leaning back in her chair as she faced him; hands folded in her lap as though she hadn’t just reached out and snatched his bait in her fists.

”Do tell.”

Now was a juicy conversation she could get into.

 

[Machiavelli]

He, on the other hand, had always been a fantastic liar, a natural con. He had once stood outside of a free carnival as a young boy and collected admissions from the visitors entering, making himself a pretty penny before slipping away. He had talked teachers into giving him grades he hadn't earned on the rare occasion that he had done poorly in class. No, Nicholas was quite simply born into this role, clearly meant to take the helm of this empire from birth. He had melded into that role even as his parents molded him for it during youth.

Nicholas raised his eyebrows slightly as she queried him for more information, clearly slightly surprised by her eagerness to hear more along that vein. However, he was not the kind of man that was put off by a bold woman, and so his expression shifted to one of narrow-eyed amusement with a subtle little smirk of pleasure at her reaction. Clearly there was some part of her that wanted him as he wanted her. Her tease in the manner she ate and the sexy little bite of her lip - whether intentional or not - made that clear enough. And he had laid the bait, might as well reel in the catch.

"Well." He said with a small chuckle, carefully cutting his own tiramisu with the edge of a fork. "The easiest way to say this is that I approach sex as the opposite way I approach everything else in life. I like it rough, unplanned, primal, and hard. However, like my life, it stems from a desire for control, power, and domination, I think." He paused, lifting some of the dessert to his lips as his eyes took her in, clearly watching for some reaction to his words as he savored the flavors of the European sweet. After a long pause, he swallowed and continued.

"I found that most women didn't expect a gentle, slow, loving partner from me anyway. After all, if you were fucking a criminal mastermind, would you expect him to be caring?" He paused, chuckling quietly.

"No, they expected a man who took what he wanted. A hair pulling, choking, rough, hard, dominant man. Fortunately for them, that's exactly the kind of thing I like. Now, that's not to say I won't let the woman take control, or don't like a little fight. Hell, I almost like that more. Feisty. And any man likes to have a woman explore his body of her own nature." He gave her a little smirk. "Have I scared you off me yet? I've had that reaction too." He laughed, clearly more than comfortable with who he was, sexually or otherwise.

He paused once more to take a long sip of the wine, his eyes examining her, reading her every little movement for some sort of reaction to his words, ones which were almost certainly intended to arouse and tantalize. "So there you have it. I'm a rough, kinky bastard." He admitted with a trademark smirk. "Feel free to ask on, if you're curious. I'm obviously not shy." He teased. "Or maybe we should probe into your sex life... What do you like, Iris?"

 

[pariah]

That bait melted in her hands, and Iris found herself watching Nick as much as listening to him, taking in the way he moved as he expressed exactly what it was he enjoyed in bed. The control he liked. The dominance he exuded. The demands he made. She felt her mouth go dry as her skin began to tingle. A desire for the power play he described burning in the pit of her belly. Her fingers coiled into the fabric of her dress at her thigh, hidden under the table though the lift of the hem over her leg would be more than noticeable to anyone paying attention. The dry swallow that bobbed her slender throat. The flicker of need in her eye. The flutter of her eyelashes.

He asked if he had scared her off and she laughed breathlessly, reaching for her wine and taking a longer pull of the vino before setting the glass down and letting her eyes linger on the empty glass rather than him. She needed a moment to gather herself, honestly. What he described had been something she’d been curious about exploring for a very long time. Previous relationships had been very vanilla, and with David it was… underwhelming. He loved her, and they had passion, but…

Iris would rather not focus on that, on David’s shortfalls when she sat across the table from Nicky.

”No,” she managed to say, rolling her eyes back to his with a wicked gleam in her eyes. ”You could call my reaction ‘intrigued’.”

Returning her hands to her lap, she grinned as he offered her the opportunity to ask more questions. He wasn’t shy, so carry on. Her laugh was short, bright, and her gaze lifted from his for a heartbeat as she considered what dark corner to delve into when he changed his mind, deciding instead to explore her own desires.

”What do I like?” she repeated in a clear, incredulous design to stall. She cleared her throat, fingertips tapping against her empty wine glass before she shook her head, her smile growing before her weight shifted on the chair and she turned her gaze back on Nicholas. They were heavy with desire, their conversation having the intended effect, though Iris was a strong-willed woman. She could bask in her want of him and still keep him at arms length, or so she hoped.

”I like when my boundaries are pushed. I enjoy a challenge. Someone who can, and will, take control. I like a man whose bite is just as good as his bark, and I like a man who doesn’t budge when I push back.”

Her head canted to the side, her tongue rolling over her lower lip again in that sultry, inviting half-smirk before she reached for the bottle of wine and topped herself off. Wrapping her hands around the glass, she leaned back in the chair and re-crossed her legs. She continued, her voice smoky with desire as she locked her eyes with his and grinned.

”I like getting choked, my hair pulled, and spanked. So there you have it. I’m a kinky bitch.”

 

[Machiavelli]

He watched her shift - his eyes held that manner of one who noticed everything, even if he didn't say a word about it. He simply read her reaction, noted it, and filed the knowledge away for another time. He could almost taste the sudden desire that rippled across her expression before she polished off the wine in her glass and returned her eyes, gleaming with a surprising delight, to him.

"Intrigued... I can work with that." He mused simply, taking another slow sip of the wine. Her words continued and only encouraged his little smirk, that confident, charming, and definitely a bit cocky smirk. Her continued indulgence in the wine and his own slow consumption only made the warmth of desire burn hotter between them, almost palpable, even tangible, in the air around them.

"Mm, a kinky bitch, hm? Sounds like exactly the kind of girl who'd enjoy me for the kinky bastard I am, yes?" He said, eyes locking to hers.

Then, carefully precise, he set his wine glass down on the table, standing to his feet with slow grace. He paced over to her side of the table, standing beside her, looking down at her, that smile still on his lips. His eyes watched her with a curiosity, and his mouth quick brought the question on his mind into the air.

"So you might like it if I pushed you up against the wall and kissed you exactly how I've been considering doing for the entire evening, hm?" His fingers dropped to gently trace her jaw before darting under to her throat. "Or maybe I'll just have to try it and find out..."

His free hand caught the wine glass and carefully sat it on the table with a deliberate slowness, as if letting her have a long moment to realize what was about to happen. It was clear he wanted her totally aware of his intimate intentions, though the intensity of his gaze made it quite obvious that there was little that would stop him.

Then, in a smooth motion his hand at her throat caught her easily, lifting her to her feet and pushing her back against the stone wall of the manor's balcony, pinning her in place. Nicholas had little doubt that she could get away, that she could fight him, but for now he was curious as to whether or not she would.

He leaned in close to her, his lips brushing along her neck and up to her ear, where he whispered:

"Am I pushing your boundaries enough? Or shall I go further?"

 

[pariah]

The way he moved was methodical. Precise. Every push and pull of muscle deliberate. She watched him, her expression sobering, as he set down his wine glass and stood. He stalked over to her side of the table like a lion stalking the antelope. Her eyes rolled up with his, keeping his gaze within her own, her fingers tightening around the wine glass unconsciously as he came closer. His touch on her jaw causing her lower lip to fall from the top with a soft breath. Her eyes darkening, her cheeks flushing, and her skin tingling as his hand slid down to her throat. Deftly, he plucked the wine glass from her grip with his free hand and set it down in such a manner that for a moment, Iris nearly fell for the illusion that she could stop him.

Nearly.

His hand tightened around her throat and lifted her to her feet in such a smooth and powerful display that she didn’t have a moment to gasp, let alone try and stop it from happening. The stone wall rushed up against her back, and Iris’ hands moved quickly to his forearm and fabric of his shirt. Her nails bit into his skin, hard enough to leave small crescent impressions of her grip just at his wrist as her other hand fisted in his shirt at his chest. Her eyes shot up to his, a flare of something in their depths as he looked down at her.

Those full lips parted, releasing a trembling breath through clenched teeth as a thrill rushed through her entire body. Her stomach churned, and she could feel molten heat settle between her thighs.

Iris watched as he leaned in to her, her own eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his cheek against her own. His lips brushing up her throat before settling near her ear. His whisper was enough to send chills down her spine. Her grip on his arm loosened, her hand at his chest unfurling before her eyes opened and her head turned into his. Her mouth hovered near his own, and for a heart beat, Iris considered giving in. She considered pulling his lips to hers. Fisting his shirt and pulling him closer until there wasn’t a centimeter of space between them. Her body ached for it. Miraculously, for now, she managed to do nothing but keep herself perfectly still.

”I thought this was going to be a business arrangement?” she whispered, her voice broken by her desire.

 

[Machiavelli]

Her nails cut into his skin, but he didn't even wince, not that anyone would expect a man who had taken a bullet to be startled by the mild pain. Her eyes flared with light as her lips parted in a trembling breath that gave her away, and that smirk only quirked more upward as her hands pulled him close to her, fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt. AS she did, his whole body pressed with hers and he felt her soft curves and hard muscle against his firm, hard lines, and he was certain that she would be able to discern the considerable arousal beginning between his legs. Her words almost teased him, in their almost playful nature, so questioning despite the clear arousal in her tone. His lips hovered near hers for a long second, one, two... then brushed against them as he whispered back.

"This can be whatever we want it to be..."

Then his lips moved to hers, the kiss slow but hungry, hot with a humming desire to taste her, feel her, devour her. The hand on her throat kept her pinned to the wall firmly, the other sliding to her hips and pulling her body against his with a firm motion. His teeth nipped at her lip, pulling away slowly, roughly, and he locked his eyes with hers, a hot breath hissing from parted lips. There was a burning aggressiveness in his eyes now, a desiring gaze of a fire that had been lit, a desire which burned so hot it devoured everything and anything it wanted.

"And I very much want you..." he teased, the hand on her throat loosening, only to slowly slide up her neck and into her hair, tugging her head back with a quick motion, exposing her throat. Slow, lusty kisses began there next, and crawled slowly down her body until he was blocked by her dress. He bit roughly at the edge of the fabric before his hand loosened once again, letting her eyes drop back to his.

"But I don't simply want to desire, to fuck, to delight in you... I want you to return ever bit of the passion." He growled.

"So, little miss Iris... show me what you want."

 

[pariah]

Iris’ lashes fluttered against her cheeks as he pressed his body into her own. The hard lines of his silhouette digging into the softer curves of her figure. She could feel his desire growing against her hip and the sensation sent a tremble of trepidation through her body. She wanted him. She could recognize that as easily as he could. Her body responded his in ways that she hadn’t felt in years. The heat of him, smell of him, feel of him, sound of him were all enough to make her practically melt for him. The only thing holding her back was the little voice that whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her of her mission. Of David. A slice of hesitation that kept her from completely turning herself over to him as he held her there against the stone. Eyes burning into her own. Hand on her throat, body pressed to hers, and a desire and demand in his presence that her body begged to submit to.

She opened her eyes up to his, letting herself fall into that gaze as his whisper played over her lips. Her fingers tightened in his shirt again, coiling like a snake ready to strike, when he closed that immeasurable distance between them and claimed her mouth as his own. Her moan was soft, low, breathless. Her hips pressed against his as he pulled her to him and she lavished in the feel of him full and hard against her. Their kiss was slow, but every bit as demanding as his fingers wrapped around her throat. She met his kiss in kind, her tongue delving and dancing with his own until he pulled away with her lip between his teeth. Just enough to make her exhale sharply before he released her.

Chartreuse eyes were heady with desire, pooling with need as they rolled up to his aggressive glare. Though he held her pinned by her neck, his body covering hers, the light in her eyes was not submission. It was excitement. Fight. Even if her body submitted to him, mentally she would stand toe to toe. Challenge him. There was a fire in Iris that burned white hot when faced with the possibility of being overtaken by Nicholas.

His fingers curled in her hair and tugged her head back. Her spine arched, pressing the front of her body even tighter against his own as his mouth captured the thin and sensitive skin of her neck. She hissed, her own hands loosening their grip on his forearm and chest until they both bunched into the fabric of his shirt at his waist. Her fingers digging into her own palms through the linen. She closed her eyes and sighed as his mouth hovered over that frustrating collar of her dress, his teeth catching and tugging at the cotton before releasing the garment and her hair.

Immediately her hands moved back up to his chest and she shoved him back hard enough to gain at least a foot of space, stepping away from the wall and closing the distance between them again.

”I am not a ‘little miss’ anymore,” she hissed before her mouth crashed into his own. Her arms raising to wrap around his shoulders as one hand delved into his hair and the other lowered to grip at his shoulder. She pressed against him, her kiss hot and needy, demanding in her own right, before she pulled back with her own teeth around his lower lip. Her eyes met his and she let them both burn for a heartbeat as that small voice in her mind was silenced by the pressing desire she felt for Nicholas. ”Are you going to fuck me here, or will we be taking this to a more private location?”