I was alone again today, another boring lonely day.

I was still cooped up in this house, and it took everything in me to not just pack up my stuff and go.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Why?

I'm not sure, and I hate myself for it.

Currently, I was in the kitchen, trying to make a recipe that Joanne taught me.

I groaned into my hands, watching as the mixture bubbled.

I quickly washed my hands and took off my apron, grabbing my keys and heading out the door.

I unlocked my car, grabbing the handle and pulling it open, but a strong hand made me stop, pulling me back down towards the concrete below.

I immediately got back up, using both hands and feet to push myself up.

I whipped around, coming face to face with a masked man, a knife in his hand.

"Who the fuck are you?" I said, catching his punch.

"That's none of your business," he said, a thick Italian accent visible in his voice.

"Italian," I whispered, slightly backing up as he stepped forward.

"You have no right to marry our mafia," he hissed out, gripping his knife tighter as he walked towards me.

"You Americans are filth."

I kicked him in the side, moving my body around and grabbing his waist.

I yelled as I ran him into the rock behind him, making him groan and thrash in my hold.

He took the knife to slam into my back, but I turned around, grabbing a hold of his wrist and pulling upwards.

I pushed away from him, wiping the blood off my nose.

"You bitch," he gritted out, standing up from the rock and running towards me.

I ducked down, kicking my foot to take out his ankles.

He fell to the ground on his back, landing with a thud.

His pushed himself up, taking his knife and thrusting forward.

I jolted to the side, the knife zooming past me.

I hissed out when I felt the sting in the side of my body, the knife just nicking the skin.

I took my foot and kicked him in the face, picking the knife and slamming it down on his chest.

"Why are you doing this," I whispered out as he groaned, trying to take the knife from its place.

"You know why," he whispered, "we will not stop until you and your mafia are dead."

I plunged the knife in deeper, and blood was now pooling from his mouth.

"See you in hell," I spat, taking the knife from his body.

I backed away, leaning against the car and holding my side.

"Shit," I muttered, grabbing my phone and dialling the one person I knew could help.

"What is it," I heard him say from the other side, the sounds of gunshots coming from his end.

"Someone came to the house and tried to kill me," I said, groaning as my finger pressed down onto the slash.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" He said.

"I stopped him," I said quietly, "but he-" I groaned again, leaning my head against the car.

"Don't move, I'm coming," he told me, quickly hanging up the phone.

I put the phone in my pocket, limping towards the steps and walking back into the house.

I held onto the walls and railings, trying to push myself forward and back into the bedroom.

I turned on the shower, trying to take off my clothes and wincing as it brushed against my wound.

I instantly felt relieved when I walked into the warm water, the warmth soothing my skin.

I cleaned off the blood, hoping it would rinse away in the drain.

It wasn't long before I shut off the water, grabbing a fresh towel and walking back into the room.

"Aliyah," I heard Kye yell from the other side of the door, and I watched as he slammed it open.

"Where are you hurt," he said frantically, his eyes looking me from head to toe.

"I'm okay, it was just a slash," I said, standing still as he clenched his fists together.

"Let me see."

I took my eyes away from my hand on the towel to him, widening them as his face was serious.

"I'm naked," I hissed out.

"I don't care, let me see."

I shook my head, starting to back away.

"Drop it," he muttered, inching closer with every breath I took.

"What?" I blurted out, grabbing onto the towel tighter.

"You heard me, drop it."

I backed away from him, gripping the towel so tight my knuckles turned white.

"No," I whispered, but he gave me an inpatient look.

"I'm not here to see your body," he hissed out. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

I didn't have time to react when he grabbed the towel from me, allowing it to drop onto the floor.

I gulped when he stepped closer to me, his hands on my waist as he sank to his knees.

"I'm fine-" I muttered out again, "I don't need your help."

He inspected the wound, his slender fingers trailing along the side of my body.

"You're not fine Aliyah, let me help you."

I let out a shaky breath when he sat me down on the bed, his body in between my legs as he looked at the cut.

I crossed my arms over my chest, blocking his view from my breasts.

"Move your arms," he said quietly, taking his eyes off my side and back to my face.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

He only took a deep inpatient breath, his hands still on my waist.

He trailed them up my body, up my stomach and reaching my arms.

"I need to see your side better," he whispered, slowly moving my arms away.

He store into my eyes, not looking down when I fully dropped my arms, revealing my whole body.

I was completely naked. For him

"Good girl," he whispered again, his eyes finally going down towards my chest, gulping as he looked back at me.

"Could you be any more beautiful," he muttered under his breath, going back to inspecting the cut.

He went back to the bathroom and pulled out a container of medical supplies.

I hissed out and grabbed onto his arm as he cleaned it, my eyes watering as the alcohol burned my skin.

He wiped it away and put a bandage on, throwing away the garbage and putting the container back in the bathroom.

I watched as he went to his drawers, picking out a fresh shirt and sweatpants and walking back over to me.

"This should be easy to get on," he said, lifting up my arms and placing the shirt over my body, trying his best to not move my side.

I let out a quiet cry of pain when I twisted my arms, and he quickly stopped.

"You okay?" He asked, and I nodded, trying my best to hold in the groans as he finished putting the shirt on.

He then leaned down between my legs, and I instantly closed them, blocking him from view of my centre.

He grabbed the sweat pants and trailed them up my legs, his fingers slightly brushing against my warm skin as he reached my thighs, and then my hips.

"Lift your hips," he muttered, helping me sit up as he put the sweatpants over my lower half.

He backed away, staring down at me as I looked up to him.

"Thank you," I said, "you've done so much."

He shook his head, sitting down next to me.

"It's nothing," he said quietly, his eyes on the side of my face as I looked down at my hands.

"You're not so bad after all," I slightly smiled, looking over towards him.

He already had a smile on his face.

"But I still hate you," I said shortly after, making him chuckle.

"The feeling's mutual," he replied, sitting up and helping me stand.

"Were you baking?" He asked, walking me out of the room.

"I tried," I sighed, "but I messed it up."

We reached the kitchen, and I winced at the mess I made, the flour and sugar spread over the counter with the bubbling mess of batter.

"Here," he said, walking us over to the other side and placing the apron back on me.

"I'll help," he told me, grabbing the batter and adding more flour.

I smiled, standing beside him as he mixed the ingredients together.

"Now you try," he said, handing me to spoon and a bag of sugar.

"Only add one fourth of a cup, okay?" He said, watching me as I put the scoop into the bag and grabbing sugar.

"Good," he said, still watching as I placed it into the bowl and stirring it.

He told me more flour next, and I grabbed a half cup and put it in, filling the scoop up.

"Is this enough?" I said, turning towards him with the cup in hand.

I gasped when the cup spilled on him, his shirt front now drenched in flour.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." I said, placing the cup down and wiping it off his shirt.

He grabbed my wrist and took it away, looking down at himself.

"You're gonna regret that," he hissed out, quickly grabbing the flour on the counter and placing it on my head.

"You bitch!" I shouted, a smile on his face as the flour fell down my head.

I grabbed another scoop and face planted the flour on his face, the slits of his eyes being the only thing visible.

I laughed out loud, my body hunched over as I looked at him.

I winced when my cut stretched out, making me gasp out and hold onto the counter.

"Fuck," I whispered.

I didn't say anything more when I felt more flour being poured on me, and when I finally opened my eyes, Kye stood there, a bag of empty flour in his hands.

"Now we're even," he smirked, grabbing the spoon again and stirring the batter once more.

I puffed out a chunk of flour, squinting my eyes as it went inside them.

I brushed it off my face and went back to watching him, both our bodies covered in baking ingredients.

"I will get you back," I whispered in his ear, a smile still stretched upon his face.

He turned around, his face so close to mine our breaths mixed together.

"I can't wait for the day," he murmured, walking closer until I hit the other side of the counter.

The sudden knocking at the front door made him pull away, giving me a glance as he walked to the door, the sound of both our fathers on the other side.

I took a deep breath and brushed off most of the flour, looking down at the now white covered floor.

"That's gonna be fun to clean," I said to myself, making my way to stand beside Kye, greeting my father and his.

"We don't have much time to talk," Todd stated, walking in.

"You both aren't safe," he said, eyeing us with our flour stained clothes.

"There's been threats," my father said, leaning against the wall.

"We need to make this more believable." My father finished.

Todd nodded, stepping closer to us.

"We don't have much time," he started, "the wedding must happen soon."

"How soon?" Kye said.

My father and his both looked at each other, and my dad took a deep breath.

"You'll need to get married next week."