SERAFINA'S POV
My world stopped.
Piccola spia.
Oh God, he knew.
My mind screamed: Run. Fight. Deny. Do something.
"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" He murmured.
My mouth went dry. This was the moment where if I didn't do anything, I knew I'll die.
But then Lorenzo pulled back, and he was smiling.
"You're spying on me." He said in a teasing and playful tone. "Trying to figure me out. Watching how I do things, what I value and hide."
Wait. What?
"All artists are spies of a sort, aren't they?Observing, stealing moments, capturing what people try to hide."
Is he telling the truth?
"You watch me very carefully, Sera." He continued."I've noticed. The way you study my reactions, and expressions."
"I watch everyone carefully." I decided to go with the flow.
"Well, continue spying then, piccola spia. I find it flattering. Most people are afraid to look too closely at me."
"Should I be afraid?"
"Probably." He stepped back. "But something tells me you're braver than most."
"Or more reckless."
"Is there a difference?" He smiled. "I haven't decided which you are yet."
"Does it matter?"
"Very much. Brave people survive in my world, and reckless get eaten alive."
The warning was clear. Whatever game we were playing, the stakes were life and death.
"I should go." Lorenzo said, glancing at his watch. "You need time to prepare for tonight, and I need to decide where to take a woman who spies on me so beautifully."
He moved to the door with painting tucked under his arm.
"Lorenzo." I called out as he reached for the door handle.
He turned back.
"Why did you really come to my studio?"
"To see if you were real." He smiled. "To see if the beautiful artist was actually who she claimed to be or if she was something else entirely."
"And? What did you see?"
"I saw that you're the most interesting thing that's happened to me in years. Real or fake, I don't care. I want to know more."
And then he left. I slumped against the wall with my heart hammering.
My phone buzzed immediately. It was a text from Lorenzo:
Car at 7:00. Don't overthink what I said or you can overthink. I enjoy watching you think.
Another message appeared:
And Sera? Whatever you think you're doing, whatever game you think you're playing just know that I'm playing too. May the best spy win.
My hands trembled as I read the messages.
He knows something, maybe not everything but definitely something.
My phone buzzed again, it was Matteo this time:
Status?
I stared at my phone.
Mission proceeding. Dinner tonight. He bought a painting for $50k.
He replied immediately:
That's excellent. He's investing in your cover. Keep pushing. I'll be listening tonight.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
"Brave or reckless?" I whispered.
I'd been reckless from the moment I'd agreed to this mission, brave would have been saying no.
Lorenzo himself came to pick me up at 7 instead of sending a driver. He stepped out when I came out from my building. He was looking dangerous but handsome at the same time.
"Sera." His eyes traveled over me slowly. "Perfect."
"You're driving?" I asked, accepting his hand as he helped me sit on the passenger seat.
"I wanted privacy tonight for our conversation." He closed my door, walked around to the driver's side.
The wire was under my dress. Matteo was listening. Lorenzo sat on the driver's seat, and started the car.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere we can talk without interruption." He glanced at me. "Does that make you nervous, piccola spia?"
There it was again. Little spy.
"Should it?"
"That depends on whether you trust me."
"I don't know you well enough to trust you."
"Smart answer. Most people lie and say yes. You're honest."
If only he knew how dishonest I actually was.
I watched the city pass through my window. We were heading toward the outskirts.
"This isn't the way to any restaurant I know." I said.
"That's because we're not going to a restaurant. Don't worry. I'm not kidnapping you."
"Then where…"
"My home. I'm cooking for you tonight."
My heart stopped.
"Your home."
"Yes. Problem?"
My every instinct screamed yes. Going to Lorenzo Vitale's private residence alone was insane. But it was also exactly what I needed for the mission. Access to his home meant access to his computer, his files, his private life.
"No problem. I'm just surprised."
"Why?"
"Men like you don't cook."
"Men like me do whatever we want." He smiled. "And what I want tonight is to cook for you in my kitchen while we talk."
"Alright." I said. "But if you're a terrible cook, I'm ordering pizza."
Lorenzo laughed. The laugh was warm, genuine, and completely unexpected.
"Deal."
LORENZO'S POV
I watched Sera's face as we stopped at my building.
"This is beautiful." She said as we rode the private elevator to the top floor.
"Thank you. I designed most of it myself."
"You have good taste."
"I have expensive taste. There's a difference."
The elevator opened directly into my penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked the city, open floor plan, minimalist furniture, art on every wall.
And Sera's painting of the two faced woman was also hanging above my fireplace. She saw it immediately. She stopped and stared at it.
"You hung it already."
"I told you. I treasure it." I moved towards the kitchen. "Wine?"
"Please."
I poured us both glasses of a Barolo I'd been saving. Sera was studying the art on my walls with genuine interest.
"These are incredible." She murmured, stopping in front of a small Botticelli sketch. "How did you…"
"Private auction. Five years ago." I joined her, handing her the wine. "It's one of my favorites."
"It's beautiful."
"So are you."
She turned to look at me, wine glass halfway to her lips.
"Are you flirting?"
"It's just an observation." He smiled.
"Do you make those observations often?"
"Only when they're true."
She moved away, putting distance between us.
"What are you making for dinner?"
"Pasta. I made the dough this afternoon."
"You made pasta from the scratch?" Her eyebrows rose.
"Disappointed?"
"Surprised. I thought of you as someone 'have my chef prepare something' type."
"I like creating things with my hands." I set down my wine, and started taking out ingredients from the refrigerator. "Cooking is meditative. You get to control every element, every flavor."
"Control. That's important to you."
"Everything is about control in my world. Lose it, and you die."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is." I started preparing the sauce. "But it's survival."
"Is that what you want? Just survival?"
I paused with knife in hand and looked at her.
No one had ever asked me that before.
"I used to think so but now I'm not sure."
"What changed?"
"I got older and started questioning things I used to accept."
"Like what?"
"Like whether survival is enough or if there should be something more."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Can I help?" She asked.
"You cook?"
"My grandmother taught me. Before she died."
I gestured to the cutting board.
"Chop the basil. It should be thin."
We cooked together in and surprisingly it was comfortable. She worked with confidence, there was no awkwardness in her.
"Where did you learn to cook?" She asked as she chopped the basil.
"From Rosa, my housekeeper when I was growing up. She raised me after my mother died." I stirred the sauce. "She was the only person who made this place feel like home."
"Was?"
"She died. Sixteen years ago."
Sera's hand touched my arm.
"I'm sorry."
"She was ki*led by someone my father showed mercy to. Someone who should have died but didn't. That's when I learned that mercy is a luxury we can't afford in this life."
"Is that why you're so…"
"Ruthless?" I smiled. "Yes."
"I was going to say careful."
"Same thing."
We finished cooking together, and walked towards the dining room. I served the pasta, and watched her take the first bite. She closed her eyes.
"This is incredible."
"Thank you."
"No, seriously. This is better than most restaurants."
"Most restaurants are overrated."
SERAFINA'S POV
"Tell me about your first mission."
Lorenzo's question cut through the silence like a blade.
I froze.
"What?"
"Your first painting." He corrected. "What was the first piece you remember creating? The one that made you think you might actually be good at this?"
Oh! Painting!
"I was eight. My grandmother gave me a set of watercolors for my birthday. I painted the view from her kitchen window."
"Do you still have it?"
"No. It lost it when I relocated to the city."
"That's too bad. First works are always the most honest. "
After finishing dinner, he moved towards the window, and I joined him.
LORENZO'S POV
We stood by the window. The dinner had been perfect.
"I meant what I said yesterday," I said, turning to face her. "About commissioning a piece."
"Oh. Yes. Of course."
"Not just any piece." I moved back toward the dining room. "I want something personal."
"What did you have in mind?"
I gestured to the two faced woman.
"Something like that but different."
"I don't understand."
"That painting reveals duality. The person we show the world versus who we really are." I poured us both more wine. "I want you to paint me that way."
"You want me to paint your portrait?"
"No. I want you to paint my truth." I handed her the wine glass. "Public face and private reality. Everything I hide."
"That's very personal."
"Yes, which is why I'm commissioning you." I leaned against the table. "You see things other people don't. I noticed it at the gallery."
"Most people see emotion in art."
"Most people see what they're told to see. You see what's actually there. So, will you do it?"
"It would take time. Multiple sittings. Getting to know you well enough to capture…"
"Yes. Exactly." I smiled. "Weeks, probably, maybe months. You'd need access to my life. My home and world."
"That's quite a commitment."
"I pay very well for commitments." I named a figure that made her blink. "Half now. Half on completion plus a bonus if it's exceptional."
"When would we start?" She asked.
"Tomorrow. Come to my office at noon. We'll discuss the details. Sign the contract." I paused. "Unless you need time to think about it?"
"No." She replied immediately. "I mean…yes. I'll do it. I'd be honored."
"Good." I took out my phone, made a note. "My assistant will send over the contract in the morning with standard commissioning terms. You'll have access to my schedule. We'll arrange sessions around my availability."
"This is very generous."
"I value art, and I value artists who understand what they're looking at."
"I should go now." She said suddenly. "It's late."
"Yes." I took out my phone,and texted for the car. "My driver will take you home."
"Thank you. For dinner and for everything."
"Thank you for agreeing to the commission. I'm looking forward to seeing what you create."
We walked to the elevator together. At the elevator, she turned to face me.
"Lorenzo, why me? There are hundreds of artists in this city who could paint your portrait."
I considered lying. Instead, I told her the truth.
"Because you're the only one who might actually see me. And I'm curious what you'll do with that."
The elevator arrived and she stepped inside.
As the doors started to close, I added: "Oh, and Sera? Bring your sketching supplies tomorrow. We'll start immediately."
She nodded and the doors closed.
I stood there, already planning tomorrow's session. My phone buzzed. It wa a text from Marco:
Situation at the warehouse. Need you now.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Something felt off about the jacket. It was heavier. I checked the pockets and found a listening device.
I stared at it, my mind was racing.
The kitchen. When she'd hung her jacket next to mine on the chair. When we'd been cooking together. She'd planted it then.
My little spy.
I should have been angry, should've have called her back, confronted her, ended this before it went further. Instead, I smiled.
"Clever, piccola spia." I murmured.