I was currently cooking some chicken stir-fry for something quick and easy due to the fact that I spent most of my time baking an apple crumble.

I heard the door being opened and then slammed shut, followed by angry footsteps. Crap! He's angry. What do I do? For some odd reason, I feel like I have to comfort him. It's been about a week since he started talking to me more, and I started to feel an emotional connection to him, almost as if I care about him. Of course I care about him. I care about virtually everyone I meet.

Maybe I should still bring him some food. I started to pile the stir-fry and apple crumble on a plate. Hopefully, he won't kill me if I accidentally disturb him.

I slowly and quietly walked up the stairs and down the hall to his office. I took my time turning the knob and opening his door. I peeked inside, but he wasn't there. Maybe...his bedroom?

I walked in the direction of his bedroom, and once in front of his door, I took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in." He still sounded angry. What am I getting myself into.

I opened the door slowly and walked in. I scanned the room quickly but didn't see him. Huh?

I heard a sigh. "Over here."

I turned to see him on a balcony, gazing at the New York City skyline, smoking a cigarette. I made my way to him and decided to set the plate of food on a near by table.

I decided not to talk first, afraid to agitate him, so I stood a few inches from him and rested my arms on the rail. I took a deep breath and gazed at the skyline with him.

For a few minutes, neither of us talked. He smoked while I continued to stare at the buildings.

"Why did you come up here?" He spoke first, putting out his cigarette.

"It might sound weird, but I wanted to make sure you're okay." I smiled. Oh, the food. "And bring you this." I picked up the plate and showed him. He smiled.

"Thank you." He looked at me with an unknown emotion until his gaze left mine and went to the table. "Sit?"

He pulled out a chair for me to sit on, and I sat down while putting the plate of food on the table for him. He took a spot next to me and started eating.

Nothing was said while he ate. It was silent. This time was not an uncomfortable one though. It was a peaceful, at ease one. I relished in the beauty of the city at night. It was the closest I've come to being out experiencing the streets.

"How long did this take you to make?" He suddenly questioned. I blushed.

"Four hours."

"Four hours?!" A look of shock washed over his face.

"Well, I have nothing better to do. I get really bored, so all I do is cook and read, but that gets boring sometimes too." I rushed out, embarrassed.

"Do you really have nothing to do?" He asked for confirmation.

"There are things to do here, but I just miss the city and all the things that come with it. I miss going out, the atmosphere of many people around, and even my job. It's weird, but I just miss it."

"Hmm. Okay." He stated, thinking. Nothing was said for a bit until I decided to ask a question.

"If you don't mind me asking, why were you so angry today?" His eyes shot up to mine, and a look of anger filled his eyes.

"You don't have to answer. It's okay." I quickly said to try to calm him down.

He sighed. "It's just one of my enemies. I thought he was gone, but it seems he's resurfacing. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Is it hard?" I asked.

"What is?" He sounded confused.

"Being the mafia king. No one really knows anything about you or what you do, but defending your right to this country against the other mob bosses must be hard, isn't it?" I explained.

"It's not necessarily hard at the moment, but that's because I've learned everything I need. When I was learning, it was." Hmm. Interesting.

"What was it like learning? If you don't mind me asking."

"I can't speak for others, but for me it was tough." He paused, and his gaze floated away from my eyes to the skyline. "Others have their parents teaching them how to take over the family, but my parents passed away before I started school, so I had to learn everything on my own. That was hard. I had no one to turn to when I made a mistake or when I needed help, so I became extremely independent, too independent. All I was focused on was my work for my whole life, so I ended up with only one best friend. Everything else didn't matter to me or wasn't in my life for very long. The only reason I met my best friend was because I was partners with him at work, and I was lucky to meet him." He stopped.

"Have you gotten close with anyone?" I felt like I was prying, but I wanted to know more.

"Only my best friend. I never made any other friends, never tried anything with girls, and never had any parent figures." He sounded sad.

"It sounds lonely." I mumbled.

"It is." I looked up to his face to see his eyes already trained on my face. I reached out and put my hand over his, which was resting on the table.

His eyes flashed with that unknown emotion again. We stayed like that for a few moments, but then, he snapped out of it.

"It's getting late; you should probably get to bed." I nodded and stood up, taking the plate with me to bring downstairs. Hands reached out and took the plate from my hands.

"I'll take it down. I'll walk you to your room." I followed him, thinking. He had no love growing up— no father to teach him sports and how to drive, no mother to cook for him and comfort him. Maybe he just needs someone to love him, to keep him company, to end his loneliness.

I got so lost in my thoughts, I almost bumped into him when he stopped. I quickly looked up and saw he opened the door for me.

"Thank you." I whispered as I made my way inside.

"Amelia." He called out. I turned around to meet his face.

"Yes?"

"Don't cook dinner tomorrow and dress up. I'm taking you somewhere." With that, he closed the door.

Involuntarily, the corners of my mouth lifted into a small smile.