Work Text:
"Francesca De Santis is evidently having an affair with Caruso's golf coach, Roberto Vargas. A notorious ladies' man, Vargas has turned De Santis' bedroom into a candlelit love nest and plans to call her after his golf lesson with Caruso. Well, she should know better than to mix business with pleasure."
Diana lifted her index finger from the M-key on her keyboard, muting her end of the open communication line until she pressed it again. The tea in her cup swayed lightly from side to side, in rhythm with the grasp of the Red Sea on her yacht. As she watched 47 enter Francesca's living quarters, she regretted not having poured herself a glass of wine. She was stuck here for as long as he took to take down Caruso and De Santis, and even though her agent was usually in and out of the scene within an hour, the visions of the warm Italian sun were making her long for a rich, full-bodied wine. Something smooth and easy, something that would soothe her soul. Instead, she begrudgingly settled for her already-lukewarm Lady Grey. No sugar; she had been trying to cut back on it, but the milk was non-negotiable.
In a way, Diana admired Vargas' bravery in attempting a workplace romance, though she wasn't entirely convinced that De Santis returned his feelings the way he intended them. Diana's research into the local rumour mill had told her all she needed and wanted to know about Vargas and his romantic conquests. Francesca, on the other hand, had devoted her life to her career and had very little time for and interest in any interpersonal relationships. Diana admired her dedication to science; it was almost a shame she had to go. Vargas was nothing but a way to get to her. It was unfortunate that 47 would have to knock him out, but he'd wake up eventually. He was a weakness.
But did that mean she was 47's weakness? If anyone ever wanted to target him, would they go through her? Just like Francesca, 47 wasn't much of a ladies' man, not as far as Diana was aware of, anyway. And ever since she and he had started seeing each other more intimately, he had been faithful to her. She just knew he had, as had she.
Before him, Diana had had her fun with people of all genders, though never as intense of a relationship as she had with 47. She had had one night stands and quick, brief love affairs, and chaste paramours, but never a lover she took as seriously as 47. Still, she was smarter than to assume a grand romantic gesture would win 47 over – as neither would it her. But Vargas had his mind on one thing and one thing only, and it was located between his legs. Diana didn't envy Francesca, despite the claims Vargas made about his finesse and stamina between the sheets.
Diana watched as a baseball – where had 47 even found that thing – hit the back of Roberto Vargas' head, and she winced instinctively. The golf coach's clothing was just the slightest bit tight around 47's biceps. Perhaps she could get him to teach her the sport sometime, and have her standing behind her as she bent over to pick up a runaway ball…
Shaking her head to bring herself out of her reverie, Diana focused back on the task at hand. 47 had just called Francesca on Vargas' phone.
It was showtime, and Diana had a front-row seat.