I stare up at the ceiling as I munch on a pop tart, contemplating just what exactly in my life has led me up to this point.

Harry sits beside me on the couch, watching American Dad while also eating a pop tart.

I'm sure he's wondering what exactly has led him to this point too.

After what happened at the club, we have been laying low. Harry's Men have rented out hotels, as well as Harry himself, and been researching from a distance on where Mia could've possibly gone. So far we have no leads, beside the fact that Matteo Giovanni had booked a private room the night that Mia was taken.

I called his secretary a few days ago, wanting to book a meeting with him, but she had said he was taking the week off and wouldn't be back in the office for another four days. Which leaves us to sit around, researching into anyone who Mia could've possibly been affiliated with.

"What about Dante?" Harry asks, his head turning in my direction, but I pay him no mind. "He was the one who approached Mia about the job at her uni."

I nod my head. "Yeah, but he is working with Matteo so we can just group them together." I say.

"I don't think we should do that, we should treat everyone as an individual suspect. We need to make sure that everyone is thoroughly inspected." He combats.

I clench my teeth. I hate how he's right sometimes.

"Considering that Matteo is indisposed, perhaps we could arrange a meeting with Dante in the meantime. We can ask him about Matteo and scope the scene out."

"You're right." I agree.

"Of course I am." He says. I look up to his face which holds no emotion. Harry has always been so serious, never daring to crack a smile. I think if he did, the world might just break.

But i understand in the current situation, he must be heavily stressed. Roman is putting a lot of pressure on him, and I've been hearing their phone calls recently which have only been getting more heated as time goes by.

If we don't find Mia soon, I think that Roman may even consider punishing Harry. Despite their circumstances, I know that Mia is Romans world. She is everything he ever wanted her to be, and suddenly she is gone, and he has no idea who has taken her.

Me, on the other hand--I've been trying to act as cool as possible around Harry. Of course he acts as though our past is nonexistent, which annoys me to the core. He is only business, which makes being near him painful.

I used to love this man, I used to think he loved me.

But now we are just strangers.

"I'll contact Dante, and arrange dinner." I say as I sit up from the couch.

"No, i'll do that." Harry says quickly. "We can't risk the possibility that he knows who you are."

I sigh. Once again Harry is right. I slump back into the couch and fix my eyes on the stupid cartoon ahead of me. I feel Harry shift his weight on the couch along with me.

"I doubt that Matteo will be involved, i mean, why would he even bother with Mia, he's got the whole of the New York mafia to deal with, as well as preparing to take over the Italian mafia." I say, picking out the dirt from underneath my nails.

"It doesn't matter what we think, we just have to get the job done." Harry says, in his bland, deep voice.

"Why are you so dull, Harry?" I ask, finally snapping at his cool, calm and composed nature. "Why are you acting like we didn't used to love each other?"

I look towards him, however he just stares straight ahead, avoiding my gaze. Just like him to do something like that.

"Rain, what happened is in the past, and there is nothing I wish to discuss about it. What happened is over, don't dwell on it."

Harry stands from the couch and heads towards the door. "I'm going to go back to my hotel and make the call, contact me if you come across any more insights." And with that, he leaves my house, closing the door softly behind him.

God! He can't even slam a fucking door!

"You know i can't do that Mia." Matteo says with an edge to his voice. Despite knowing the answer prior to asking, I still felt deflated at his words. The smallest part of me hoped.

Yet, I still hold onto hope that Dad is looking for me. I know he is. It has only been a week, i think. There's still hope, still time for me to be found...

"I'll get the doctor for you, and he can remove all these," He waves his hands around, and I assume he's talking about all the tubes and machines. I give him a curt nod and watch as he leaves the room, not bothering to lock the door behind him. But there's no point, I'd be too weak to even stand on my own.

Minutes go by before an old man enters the room, Matteo nowhere in sight. I let out a sigh of relief as I further inspected the man. He has a head of thick, fiery-orange looking hair which it trimmed and styled in a professional manner. His eyes are a light hazel, and hold warmth within them. He wears a white coat, so I'm guessing he's the doctor Matteo was talking about.

"Good morning Mia, it is nice to finally meet you." The man says in a fatherly voice. "My name is Hammel, i'm the doctor who has been treating you over the past week."

He approaches me and instantly begins shutting down the heart monitor and disconnecting the bags of fluid from the IV.

"It's nice to meet you too." I say, shyness clearly present in my voice. "Thank you."

I look up to see him with a weary smile on his face. "May i?" He asks, with his hand outstretched, I look back down at the IV in my hand and place my hand in his. "I'm sorry you are here, Mia. I understand that Matteo can be a handful, and possessive."

He pulls the needle from my hand, and I clench my teeth as he clamps a cotton ball onto where it had been placed. Hammel's words make me feel slightly better, knowing that not everyone shares the same morals and values as Matteo. Hammel seems he can actually empathise with me. Or maybe he just feels pity.

Awkward moments of silence pass as Hammel carries on with whatever he's doing as he slowly packs everything up. He removes the tube from my throat, making me almost puke, but thankfully I refrain, and by the looks of things he's finished.

But the look on his face tells me otherwise.

***

After Hammel removed everything from me, I finally let myself fully relax into the pillows. "Now, just make sure you don't strain yourself. Your body is still healing and if you were to attempt any strenuous activity, you may have a relapse."

I look into Hammel's eyes, understanding what he's getting at.

No escape. Not until I'm better.

"Thank you." I say once again, genuinely meaning it.

"Just doing my job." He replies and leaves the room, Matteo coming back inside instantly, as if he were waiting just outside the door. Which i have no doubt he was.

"How are you feeling?" He asks. I clench my fists around the sheets.

"Fine." I reply, trying to keep the bitterness within me at an all time low. I'm going to have to deal with him for a while, so i may as well make this experience as pleasant for myself as i can. "I'd like to go outside."

I peel the bed sheets from my body and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Matteo quickly rushes to my side, as if he's scared I'll break at any moment. I feel his warm hands, gently place themselves over my bare legs.

Thankfully, I'm not naked and I'm clothed in a new pair of pyjamas, not the ones I had been wearing for so long. I try not to flinch at Matteo's touch, but it's difficult.

"Let me help you, I don't want you falling."

Hesitantly, I nod my head, knowing that if I didn't agree, I probably wouldn't be able to leave the room.

He gives me one of his famous smiles and eases me off of the bed, I place most of my weight onto him, and he easily takes it. With his arms against my back and wrapped around my waist, I can't help but notice the hard muscle he possesses.

I mentally slap myself.

I can't think like that.

Once Matteo has helped me out of the room, with heavy difficulty on my part, I hear the discernible growl of my stomach, yearning for food. My face grows red, as I know that Matteo heard it just as I did. I think even the two guards stationed beside the door heard too...

Matteo grins. "Lets get some breakfast in your stomach, once you can think straight, we can talk."

"Talk?" I gulp nervously.

"I have some questions to ask you." He says nonchalant. "In return I'll let you ask questions of your own. I know you'd like that."

He's certainly not wrong.

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