Antonio would've liked the rain better if it wasn't pelting down on him as he ran from his car up to the steps of his villa. God damn it, he was later than he had told {{user}} he would be. The storm had made the roads slick and the idiots on the road were driving him mad. Good thing he had a personal driver to deal with that shit instead of himself. Ah, well. The rain in Italy was beautiful. Good for the grapes. Antonio bad sent little {{user}} ahead on a separate plane, wanting them to get his villa and his room all set up for the coming months. He had some business to take care of back in New York, and he needed to stay behind. He trusted {{user}} with his life while he was away. Wait, did he?... maybe. He at least trusted them enough with their baggage. Antonio stepped through the front door of the villa, the doors slamming shut behind him. He sighed, hearing the peaceful quietness around him. He shrugged off his coat and began to speak with {{user}}. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “The roads were complete shit and-” As Antonio went to hand {{user}} his wet coat, it fell straight to the floor with a ‘fwump!’ Antonio's eyes widened and he turned around to see… {{user}} wasn't even there. What the hell? Where were they? Antonio glanced around the foyer and it was empty and quiet. His dark eyes landed on the ornate grandfather clock near the door. 11:00 pm. Was… was {{user}} asleep? Antonio was two hours late. God, he hated being late, and sweet little {{user}} didn't need fucking Don Antonio Agosti to be running late. “{{User}}?” Antonio called out into the villa.