Chapter Text
“When you said a weekend trip, this is not what I was expecting,” Aydenne remarked to Teia as Illario’s driver pulled the car into the semicircular drive in front of the terminal.
“Being friends with the owner’s grandson has a few perks,” Teia said, winking at Aydenne. “Vi, are you all right?”
Viago was staring out the window, trying to dissociate from the conversation entirely. Teia and Aydenne had talked about nothing but soccer, attractive men, and unusual ways to kill someone, and Viago had disdained every moment of it.
Poison was the correct answer when you wanted to kill someone, and Viago very much wished it were socially acceptable to poison people. Men should never be described as “caked up,” “tens,” or “rizzlers.” Furthermore, Viago had already made a mental note to ban those words from use in meetings, now that he unwillingly knew what they meant.
With a long-suffering sigh, Viago unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m fine, Teia.”
“Really? Because you look like you’re about to be sent to the electric chair,” Aydenne observed. “We’re supposed to be having fun.”
“Fun is for people who can’t find something important to do,” Viago said, accepting his suitcase from the driver with a clipped nod.
“Live a little, Vi. It won’t hurt your career if you smile once or twice.”
Viago looked sourly at Teia. “It might. Rook is already incorrigible. Imagine if I were permissive.”
Teia patted him on the arm, ignoring the way he flinched away from her.
“Don’t worry about Rook. You and I have more important business this weekend.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Aydenne said nervously.
“It depends on how Viago behaves,” Teia replied seriously.
The three thanked their driver and headed into the terminal. Aydenne looked around with a bewildered expression.
“So Illario is rich-rich? I’ve never been in a private jet airport before.”
“Yes, the Dellamorte family is extremely wealthy. And this is a terminal, not an airport,” Viago corrected crisply. He was always more comfortable with facts than small talk. “Illario has never done anything with his family’s money other than waste it, as far as I know. Lucanis is the hard worker of the two.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen him around. What’s he like?” Aydenne asked.
“Intense,” Teia supplied. “He’s as much a workaholic as Vi. We’ve been trying to get him to take more time off, but he won’t stop until he’s taken Caterina’s job.”
“Caterina will retire when she dies,” Viago said.
“Careful, Vi, that sounds like gossip. You wouldn’t want to be accused of having a good time, would you?” Teia teased. “That sounds a lot like your work ethic, too.”
“Fifty years and not a day more.” Viago’s smile was tight.
Teia sighed.
Aydenne, unaware of the tension between them, was studying the check-in counter. “Where is everybody? Usually an airport has way more people than this.”
“Private terminals don’t,” Viago pointed out.
“Teia! Aydé! Over here,” Illario Dellamorte’s voice interrupted whatever comeback Aydenne had been cooking up.
Aydenne’s face relaxed into a smile at the sound. Teia left her bag for Viago to haul along and strode quickly to embrace Illario, kissing him on the cheek.
“Amiga,” Illario greeted. “Good to see you.”
“You too, chulito,” Teia grinned. “Thank you for the treat. Have I told you how lucky I am to be your friend?”
Illario waved a hand. “You deserve it. I’m the one in your debt.”
“What—” Aydenne started to ask, but caught the sharp look from Teia and decided some things were better left unsaid.
“ ¿Cómo te sientes, guapo?” Illario asked Aydenne, turning his million-watt smile on him. Aydenne, clearly susceptible to the taller man’s charms, blushed.
Viago, who had just joined them and still thought Aydenne looked like he was dressed for bed (and had said so when Rook got in the car), groaned.
“Good, but uh, can we stick to Common? Afraid despite my last name I’m not fluent in Antivan.”
Illario flung his arms wide, dramatically.
“You’ll have to learn! How else will we summer in Treviso?”
“Slow down, Dellamorte,” Viago cut in. “Rook doesn’t know what he’s getting into with you.”
Illario scoffed. “And you do? The only thing you know about me is what you’ve seen in my grandmother’s office, de Riva. Unlike you, I have a whole life outside those doors.”
Teia clapped her hands. “Boys. No fighting. I’m here for drinks, new tan lines, and forgetting work exists for the next forty-eight hours. When do we board?”
Illario gestured toward the glass doors. “Whenever you’re ready, amiga,. The pilot’s waiting.”
Teia turned to Viago, her smile softening. “You packed sunscreen, right?”
“I packed my laptop in a waterproof bag,” Viago replied.
Aydenne snorted. “You’re unwell. Did you bring the rest of your desk so you can recreate your natural habitat?”
“Everything in my desk wouldn’t fit in my bag,” Viago said with stiff dignity.
“Boss, just try to have a good time?” Aydenne called over his shoulder as he headed toward the lounge’s plush seating. “You act like joy is a compliance violation.”
Viago opened his mouth to retort, but Teia looped her arm through his and gently tugged him forward.
“Come on, Vi. You can glare at the ocean from the safety of a cabana. We’ll get a drink first.” She added, softer this time: “Don’t worry. No one expects you to enjoy everything, just some of it. With me.”
Viago allowed himself to be led, suitcase in tow, plans in ruins. He didn’t speak, but he was already calculating how long he could endure sunlight before faking a work emergency and retreating indoors.
In front of them, Aydenne whispered to Illario, “Has he ever acted normal?”
Illario grinned. “Not since he fell in love.”
Viago didn’t turn around. But he did walk faster.