((never too late! I’m always open for prompts—I’m just sorry this took me so long))
Cesare’s still awake when Lucrezia tries to sneak in an unholy hour of the night, her high heels clicking on the marble floors of the family home. She turns the corner into the kitchen and jumps when she sees him sitting at the breakfast bar.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he teases.
"Look at the cat," she replies quickly, smiling and kicking off her heels. He grins back. "You didn’t need to wait up for me, you know."
He gets up and puts an arm around her bare shoulders. She’s in her favourite party dress, red and strapless with a full skirt. Her full lips are stained red too.
"I wanted to. I thought you might want a lift back."
Lucrezia holds the hand that’s over her shoulder and kisses it. She’s obviously a more than a little tipsy. “Aww, you’re so sweet. Does anyone ever tell you you’re sweet, Cesare?”
Cesare thinks of the man he last killed, gloved hands tight around his throat until the life drained out of him and his body folded to the floor. The irony makes him smile. “Not often, no.”
"Well, you are. You are very sweet, brother, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise!"
"I won’t." He guides her up the stairs slowly, holding his other hand near her in case she tripped. She’s still holding onto his hand, but she guides it to her waist instead, and wraps his fingers along her ribcage.
They come to a standstill outside her room. Lucrezia smiles up at him through her thick fan of eyelashes. He touches her face with one hand. "Sleep well, Lucrezia," Cesare whispers and kisses her cheek. If he lingers a second too long, neither of them say anything.