Siena loved and hated the city in equal measures. 

The young woman looked beyond the round window of the airplane as it circled above the paved strip of ground stretching far beneath it, descended, then touched the ground with a bump, and continued to sail smoothly, slowing down even as it grew quieter, towards the terminal. 

She recalled the years she had spent here in London as an art history student, a thing her late grandmother insisted on. Her grandma used to love this city, she spent her whole life here, and wished that her beloved granddaughter would live with her during her studies. 

When she passed away suddenly at the end of Siena's first year, the girl decided to finish university here, as her grandmother had wanted. And, as the old, wise woman had predicted, or rather hoped, her grandchild fell in love with the city eventually. At least with some aspects of it. 

Siena learned to treasure the endless possibilities it offered, its infinite number of museums, galleries and theatres, and the constant stream of new people to meet. She loved all that nearly as much as she hated the too hectic pace and rhythm of life of the Londoners, the large quantity of tourists crowding, suffocating the place all year round, in any weather, and the city's awful public transport and traffic.

In all honesty, Siena much preferred the more pocket-sized and peaceful town of Florence where she was born, grew up, and now worked as a high school teacher with a dream of becoming a curator of the Uffizi Gallery. She already missed her small flat with a view of the wide, languidly flowing river Arno, and the picturesque medieval bridge, Ponte Vecchio. More than anything, she missed her ginger cat, Briciola, whom she had to leave in care of her elderly neighbour to be able to come here.

It's been... three whole years since she visited this city the last time, talked into a weekend stay by her now ex-boyfriend. And she hadn't missed it much at all, Siena realised as she got off the plane. If it wasn't for that shady Bibliophiles' Society her grandmother used to work for... Just what they wanted from her, after all these years, was beyond her. Grandma had never told her much about it, and when she tried to research the society now, when she got their letter inviting her to a meeting, she couldn't find anything about them online.

But the Society had always been so very important for her grandmother that Siena couldn't refuse their invitation. Also, the more she thought about it, the more curious she became. There were times, Siena's mum said when she brought the subject up the other day, when grandma would vanish for days, weeks sometimes, because she had to do something for the society. But not even her mum knew more than that. Maybe now Siena would finally find out...

However, as she walked through the terminal to the arrivals' lounge where someone from the society was supposed to meet her, she started to regret her rushed decision. She should have ignored that letter and stayed at home, she despaired, finding the place even more hectic, stressful and full of annoying, excited tourists, than she remembered it.

"Watch out!" She called to a man who knocked into her from behind as he rushed passed, but he did not hear her. 

How could he, with that awfully loud music blaring from his earbuds. How could someone listen to music so loud... Siena liked music but as an ambience, sotto voce thing, which could not disturb her thoughts. And she much preferred complete silence when she was alone.

She reached the appointed place and noticed a short man wearing what looked like a driver's uniform, holding a sign raised high in the air, above the heads of the other waiting people. 

Miss S. De Angelis, Mr. W. Boyd,

Siena read the black, printed letters. 

Even as she realised that she wasn't the only one expected here today, wondering what some Boyd guy had to do with her grandmother and her Bibliophiles' Society, she noticed that the mysterious Mr. W. was already standing by the short driver with the board. 

Tall, well-built, red-haired, with a pair of large blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and an air around him of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. Jealous of the stranger's tan she let her eyes drop to her own arms, white as a ghost's, speaking volumes about her indoorsy, small town life. 

Sighing, Siena looked at Mr. W.'s copper, curly hair again-- in that exact moment, gilded by a stray ray of sunshine which had found its way inside the terminal building through its glass walls, it was the precise same colour of Briciola's fur... She smiled at the stranger as her mind strolled to her cat. 

As she approached the two men she noticed the loud music again, and her eyes fell to Mr. W.'s earbuds. Just her luck...

"Miss Siena De Angelis?" The short guy ventured as she dropped her two heavy bags at his feet.

Like she would be standing here in front of him if it wasn't her. She resisted her urge to roll her eyes at him and swallowed her reply, nodding and offering him her hand instead. "Siena De Angelis, nice to meet you Mr...?" 

"Just call me Jake, I'll be your driver for as long as you and Mr. Boyd will stay with us." He said, smiling cordially while shaking her hand.

"Would you please explain to me, Jake, what is this all about? That letter was rather vague... If it wasn't for my grandmother..." Siena definitely wouldn't be here now.

The short man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, making her understand that he either knew as little as herself, or was not supposed to talk. That made her even more curious.

The tall Mr. W. disturbed her train of thought as he finally removed the earbuds from his ears and introduced himself, his Scottish accent matching both his surname and his red hair, "I'm William, Siena, and whatever this is about we are in it together." 

He smiled, winking at her conspiratorially as she accepted his proffered hand.

What a joy, she thought, but said politely, "Nice to meet you, William." 

He looked kind and friendly enough, she decided, craning her neck to be able to look better at his face; he was at least a head taller than her. If only he would keep that music down, she mused even as he stuffed one of the earbuds he had removed during the introductions back into his ear.

So, he was only half present when the short man explained, as he carried Siena's bags towards the exit, that he was to drive them to the headquarters of the Bibliophiles' Society, and once there, someone else would explain everything to them.

Siena looked up at William walking at the man's other side, and watched him bob his head, sending his slightly too long ginger locks in motion, either in reply to the driver Jake's words or simply in rhythm with the song he was still listening to.

She smiled, shaking her head, and he winked at her again when he noticed. That made her blush and look away from him. 

Just why would someone she has just met wink at her, Siena mused, climbing in the backseat of the large, dark blue car Jake led them to, its colour only a shade darker than his uniform. The polite driver opened, then closed the door for her after he had placed her bags and William's backpack at the back. No one winked at her since she was a teenager. She hated it even back then, and now, when she was a woman of twenty-four, a survivor of several unsuccessful relationships with those of his kind, it was making her skin crawl. 

Siena sat as far away from William as the back seat would allow her, deciding to keep her distance. She... was not going down this lane again, she had had her experience. As soon as this would be over she would go back to the silence of her flat interrupted only by Briciola's occasional purring and forget all about this cheeky, handsome Scot, she mused, looking at the hectic, overcrowded city appearing in snapshots and sequences behind the glass, while the car sped up, slowed down or stopped shortly, as the heavy afternoon traffic required. Why was she even thinking about him? Siena wondered, surprised by the direction her musings had taken. 

She was so absorbed in her rambling thoughts that she jumped when William's large, warm hand rested on her denim-clad knee unexpectedly.

"Do you mind my music?" he asked, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. 

"Not unless it's too loud," she said, and tearing her gaze off him let it drop to his hand on her knee significantly.

He understood, the hand vanishing immediately along with the low hum of music, barely audible over the sound of the car's engine.  

Maybe she didn't look like the nicest girl in the world in his eyes right now, but the Society's letter stated that she was to stay in London, with them, one whole week. And if that meant spending all those days with this William, too, the two of them needed to set the rules and limits of their acquaintance straight from the beginning.