Chapter 6 Five

• The satellite phone wouldn't stop ringing.
• Shrill. Annoying. Demanding.
• Tony cursed under his breath.
• Still sitting on the bed, he snatched the phone off the nightstand and answered.
• Someone was already yelling on the other end.
• But Tony’s mind and attention was elsewhere.
• His eyes were burning holes into the spot where his wallet should have been.
• The pretty stranger must have taken it.
• ‘I never took him for a thief,’ he thought, his jaw tightening.
• His fingers ran through his dark disheveled hair as he tried to make sense of it.
• ‘His scent alone probably costs a thousand dollars…’ he tried to sniff the air, involuntarily.
• ‘And those violet eyes—so goddamn beautiful when crying.’
• Something stirred inside him.
• ‘And his clothes—designer, it’s expensive as hell.’
• An expensive, pretty thief.
• He clenched the phone tighter.
• Plans were already forming.
• Tony wasn't just going to find him—he was going to own him.
• So he better run as far away as he can.
• ‘I love a good chase.’
• It’s a mad thing to do.
• Exactly the kind of madness Tony was capable of.
• ‘Once I get you back,’ he vowed to himself. ‘I’m keeping you prisoner in my bed.’
• ‘That sounds pretty good,’ he thought.
• Satisfied with his dark plan, he grinned.
• “Hello?” Tony finally said aloud.
• “@%$!!!” came a string of shouted expletives.
• He blinked.
• Brows furrowed.
• Whoever was on the line was still cursing.
• But the words blurred into a white noise.
• He looked at the phone as if it was a crazy cat trying to claw him.
• The shouting buzzed like a migraine behind his eyes.
• So he ended the call with a sigh.
• Not curious on what the caller wants.
• Or whoever the hell he is.
• Tony can't seem to focus on two things at once—especially not now.
• Not like this.
• Still slightly high from the great sex last night, and the now gentle nagging throb in his head, he stood up.
• The rough hotel sheets fell down from his body, pooling down his feet.
• Revealing his nakedness to the cool air.
• ‘What time is it anyway?’
• He stretched.
• Every muscle moved in perfect synchronicity—like a damn Michelangelo sculpture coming to life.
• His body looked like sin sculpted in flesh.
• Broad shoulders.
• Defined abs.
• A V-shaped torso that made women weep and men seethe.
• His physique?
• Mouthwatering.
• And his face?
• Dangerously attractive.
• It possesses a raw, almost rebellious allure that syncs to his rebellious nature.
• High, sharply defined cheekbones that cast intriguing shadows.
• Hinting at a hidden intensity.
• A strong, square jawline anchored his features with a touch of defiance.
• Especially his eyes.
• They were sexy.
• Captivating.
• Deep set and darkly expressive.
• Pronouncing his silver eyes.
• They held a magnetic quality—promising both mischief and a profound depth.
• The kind of eyes that could peel you back of your defenses with a single knowing glance.
• Eyes that could undress you in a second, without laying a single finger.
• He looked in the mirror.
• Stubble was beginning to form beneath his chin.
• He ran his fingers across it.
• “It’s time to shave,” he muttered.
• **
• The phone rang again.
• And again.
• Ten more times while he was in the shower.
• Each shrill ring echoed through the hotel room.
• Bouncing off the old walls and tile floors.
• ‘Persistent bastard,’ Tony muttered under the cascading water.
• He already had a general idea on who it was.
• And honestly?
• He wasn't in the mood.
• It had been two whole months since he ‘left’ the CIA.
• He wasn't ready to crawl back—especially not now.
• ‘My team was dead,’ he reminded himself.
• “And it's all my fault.”
• He shooed the guilt away as he stepped out of the shower.
• Still wet and dripping and newly shaved.
• Droplets of water traced the defined lines of his chest and stomach.
• It glistened under the already hot and bright morning sun that filtered through the dusty curtains.
• He stood there next to the phone.
• Towels on hand.
• He wrapped one around his hips.
• And used the other one to dry his hair.
• He waited for the phone to ring again.
• Sure enough—
• RING
• Sighing.
• He reached for the phone, finally irritated beyond measure and picked it up.
• A fresh line of curses greeted him.
• “Yeah?” Tony answered nonchalantly, a towel slung over his head.
• “You son of a bitch Tony!”
• “I love you too, Nick,” he replied dryly, rubbing the water from his face.
• Another explosion of expletives tore through the receiver..
• He winced and pulled the phone slightly away.
• All he could hear was static lines and curses.
• “Jesus, my ears,” he grumbled, cleaning one with his pinky finger and blowing on it.
• “I can't understand a damn thing you’re saying, Nick. Maybe it's about damn time for you to relearn your english.”
• “Goodbye—” he started to say, his fingers dangerously close to the end button.
• “Hang on!”
• Nick's voice halted Tony.
• His desperation was breaking through the static.
• Tony paused.
• “Whew.” Nick started to say.
• Panting slightly.
• “My blood pressure just shot through the roof, you bastard.”
• Tony smirked.
• “Uh huh. That’s cute.”
• Silence.
• Just the sound of Nick’s breathing on the other end.
• “You’re so lively today,” Tony said. Amused.
• Pushing Nick’s last button.
• Another few curses.
• But this time, it was quieter.
• “You’re so excited.” Tony continued.
• “Listen.” Nick’s voice finally dropped, suddenly serious.
• “They contacted me from above.”
• Tony’s amusement slowly faded.
• “They?”
• “Someone wants to talk to you today. A higher up.”
• “Well tell them that's impossible,” Tony said coldly.
• Heading back to the bathroom.
• “I'm a million miles away from caring.”
• “They’re in Florence. Right now.”
• Tony stopped.
• “This isn't just a debrief, Tony. It’s bigger than that.”
• A pause.
• A long long pause.
• He looked up at his reflection.
• “You really are CIA..” he muttered.
• “You’re one too,” Nick snapped back.
• Tony sighed.
• ‘It’s inevitable,’ he thought.
• “Piazza Navona. In thirty minutes,” Nick said firmly.
• “The cafe with the red awnings. Don't be late.”
• Click.
• The line went dead.
• Tony sighed.
• Debating whether to go or not.
• Then without any preamble, he gets ready.
• He shoved aside his plan to chase down the pretty stranger—for now.
• Tony wore another Hawaiian shirt.
• But this time it was red.
• Then darker walking shorts.
• Took his hotel keys and a new bottle of wine.
• His usual accessories.
• He stopped moving and remembered how he went out yesterday like this too.
• He grinned.
• Then furrowed his brows.
• ‘I have no fucking wallet.’
• Sighing he came back and tried to remember where he threw his cards.
• ‘How much was in there in my wallet anyway?’
• He can't seem to remember but he knew there was a lot.
• Since he rarely used cards.
• It was on purpose.
• So that ‘they’ couldn't track him down.
• But it proves to be useless now.
• They already knew where he was.
• ‘So, might as well use those cards now.’
• And with that, he went out of his hotel room.
• Unaware that somewhere in scenic Florence, someone was waiting—armed with a bombshell from his past that would change his life forever.
• **