I woke to a pounding in my head and stinging eyes. Groans escaped my lips and didn't stop till I ran out of breath.

"Oh God, my head," I moaned, drooling on the soft pillow.

I took in a deep breath, feeling all the bones in my body crack and my muscles relax. There was a slight chill in the air but I refused to get under the blankets or even move. My eyes slowly opened again to a dark wooden headboard that I didn't recognise. I moved onto my hands and looked down at myself.

Wedding dress?

Then it came crashing down. My elbows buckled under the weight of yesterday's exhaustion and the reality of my future. To spend my life with a man I didn't think I could love or could love me back. I felt my heart slightly break at that realization.

Rolling on to my back, I didn't have the strength to lift my arms that covered my eyes. The top of my dress was restricting my ability to breathe and my breasts were falling out.

Gravity, helped push my arms off my face so that I lied on the bed, Jesus-style. All I could do was focus on the physical state of my body than the emotional. My feet hurt like hell from being in heels all day long, my ribs ached from being in a corset and my eyes stung from crying all night long.

"God, what do I look like?" I asked myself, my voice a breath of air.

It felt nice to hear a voice even if it was my own. My eyes looked around the room trying to get familiar with my surroundings. This was my room after all. I spied the light, shining through a gap in the dark curtains. Crawling to the edge of the bed, I found my motivation to move. My feet cracked under my weight but that didn't stop me.

I took a hold of the curtains and pushed them opened letting the morning sun rain down on me. My body completely relaxed under the warmth, welcoming it.

Turning, I walked over to the dresser by the other wall. I looked at the woman that looked very different to the woman I was looking at yesterday in the three piece mirror. This girl was a mess. She wasn't this strong queen that everyone believed she was. She was just a complete mess. Moving closer to it, I focused on the things it held.

Patrick was right. They had brought all my things here. My body products, my jewellery, my clothes, everything a girl could want to make herself feel at home. I guess Oscar wasn't lying when he said that he would try and make my life comfortable here. My shoulders shook at the thought of my father-in-law. Ew, Oscar Maestri was my father-in-law? Why did that sentence sound so wrong?

Spying the digital clock on the dresser, I read the time. Nine-thirty-five. Patrick was probably waiting for me. I stamped my foot, frustrated with myself more than anything. I knew where Patrick and I stood. I was his queen and he was my king. I was now living in his house and I was going to have to play by his rules. But why did I have too? I was a queen in my own right. To hell if I was going to be ruled by him.

With that new thought, I paced for my ensuite. I was stunned by what I found. It wasn't as big as the one at home but it would do. A sink half cover the wall and had a good size space and draw size. A toilet sat nicely next to that and above that was a mirror that covered the rest of the wall. A double shower took up the rest of the room with only a piece of glass for privacy and a window that sat along the built in shelf to bring in some more light.

First thing first, my dress. I reached to the back of it and found the zipper before pulling it down. I clung to the sink for balance as I stepped out of the thing. My eyes avoided the mirror, not wanting to look at the unflattering marks it made on my skin. I kicked it out of the room, not trying to be nice about it. I wouldn't need it again anyway.

After that, I went straight to the shower noticing that my shampoo and my body lotion was already in there. Moans escaped my lips when I felt the tiny warm droplets of water touch my skin. I felt it loosen my tight muscles as I started to take the bobby pins from my hair. It was a tough job and took about ten minutes for all them to be out.

I shampooed, conditioned and lathered body lotion over my skin till the smell of vanilla radiate from my skin. I was beginning to feel more like myself as I turned off the water and took the towel that hung on the rack. I wrapped it around my body before stepping back into the room.

Just before I dropped the towel from my body, I spied the doorknob. The last thing I wanted was for Patrick – for anyone to walk in. Pacing over to the door, I locked it before I proceeded doing anything else.

My wardrobe was next. I opened the two doors and found all my dresses on one side and my clothes in draws in the other. Pulling opened one draw, I found my bras and thongs. I picked out my white lace thong and found its matching bra, pulling them both on.

Opening up another draw, I found all my shorts and skirts. I fished out a pair of demin shorts and pulled them on as well. The next draw were my shirts and blouses. I pulled out a white blouse and put it on.

I dried my hair the best I could before pulling it up in a ponytail. It would have to do.

Sighing, I headed for the door. Everything seemed different in the light. The white tiles that covered the whole house reflected the sun's ray causing it to bounce off the walls. There were two other doors before I turned left heading down another corridor. It led me to the opened balcony and the stairs. A breath caught in my throat when I looked at it for the first time during the day. Light rained down from the high windows and the French doors. It made the word luxury seem so small in comparison of the sight.

The tiled stairs felt cool against my feet, bringing a welcomed relief from yesterday's shoe horror. I took a hunch and paced across the void to the French doors.

Like I had guess, they opened up to a dinner room. It shared the white tiled floor that was constant throughout the house and a decent size chandelier that hung down from the roof. The small crystals caught the light and caused it to spread throughout the room. Cream columns were the only thing that cut off the beautiful kitchen at the end of the house. A wall of windows looked out to the back yard revealing a pool that I would have to investigate later. An oval dining table took up most of the room, sitting about ten people easily.

My eyes looked up at the sound of muffled talking and swallowed when I realized who it was. My husband. With him not looking, I took the opportunity to look over his features, taking in what he looked like on an everyday basis. I had to agree with Zoey. He was an Italian God, with tanned skin and abs that I could almost see through his white dress shirt. A loose black tie never looked so good on a human being before, neither did black dress pants that sat nicely on his hips. He leaned on the kitchen bench talking to a woman that kind of reminded me of Helen Mirren with a bob hair style that was blonde with a few greys here and there. She wore a warm smile while talking to him and her eyes were still bright. Jeans cover her skinny legs and she wore a white button down blouse similar to the one I wore. What gave her occupation away was the apron that was wrapped around her waist.

I had been standing there for a good five minutes before Patrick's eyes flicked up and met mine.

"Here she comes," I heard him whisper as clear as day, giving away what they had been talking about.

Me.

Now that I had been caught out, I freely walked over to them, not caring if he was uncomfortable or not.

"Eliza, this is Mrs Philips, our cook and cleaner," Patrick introduced her.

I jumped when she took my hand and shook it, but relaxed at the sight of her warm smile.

"Nice to meet you my dear," she told me.

"Like wise," I said with a little laugh to hide my awkwardness, "but you can call me Lizzy. I hardly go by Eliza."

She nodded, accepting it.

There was silence as we waited for Patrick to talk. It seemed only polite to but he sipped his coffee as if his work here was done.

"Would you like something to eat, Lizzy," Mrs Philips offered when she realized Patrick wouldn't.

"I could eat," I told her, shrugging.

"After yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised," she laughed, moving over to the stove.

I nodded, managing a smile while tapping my fingers on the bench as I waited. I tried to ignore the burning look Patrick was giving me as he continued to ignore me while he drunk his coffee.

"What would you like, my dear?" Mrs Philips asked, "Poached eggs, a crape?"

"A crape sounds good," I told her, feeling my stomach grumble, "whatever you want. I'm easy."

She smiled at me, though I didn't believe she would listen to me.

"Boss," I turned my head at the sound of another man remembering him from last night.

I think his name was Garrick.

"Everyone is ready when you are," he told Patrick.

Patrick hummed a yes, swallowing his last mouthful before putting his mug down.

"Yes, I think we're ready. Eliza?" He asked me.

I stood, wide eyed, not sure what was happening and why I was involved.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, hoping to get a straight answer out of him instead of a smartass comment.

"Come," he ordered, gesturing to the door, "there's a few people I want you to meet."

I frowned, following him and Garrick out to the void.

Four other giants stood in the void in suits, laughing until they spied Patrick coming than me. They coughed to cover their snickers while showing the up most respect to Patrick.

"Eliza, these are my inner circle. Garrick, Piero, Antonio, Alberto and Nickola," Patrick introduced, going down the line.

God, it was like this place made gorgeous man.

Garrick looked to be the oldest and probably Patrick's age. He was a little bit taller than Patrick as well and had broader shoulders. I would bet good money to say that he could get hit by a truck and only come out of it with cuts and bruises. He looked like a real tough guy but when he smiled, he looked completely different. There was tattoo on his neck that was just visible from his open shirt collar, but I couldn't make out what it was.

Piero was next and was the complete opposite to Garrick. He was a small build, though I still didn't want to pick a fight with him. His head was narrow and he rocked the Bieber hair flick. His strength looked to be in his arms which stood out under his jacket. Across his knuckles were tattooed on one and on the other.

Antonio and Alberto looked almost identical except for a mole next to Antonio's eyes. It wouldn't surprise me if they were twins. They had the same pale blue eyes that stood out against their black floppy hair.

Their shoulders were just as broad as Garrick's though Antonio was in inch shorter and Alberto, two inches shorter.

Nikola looked like the youngest out of the five, probably around twenty-five. He wore a warm smile that the others didn't and his eyes still seemed to shine green. His hair was black like the others but cut into neat spikes and off his face. Out of the five of them, he looked like the one that I would most likely speak freely too. He didn't have razor sharp eyes and he didn't look mean.

"I trust these men with my life," Patrick told me, bringing my attention back to them, "I advise you to do the same."

I nodded, believing I could manage that.

"It's an honour to meet you, Eliza," Garrick said, offering out his hand.

I took it willing, groaning, "God, call me Lizzy. Not even my father calls me that."

Garrick's eyes landed on Patrick behind me, "Boss?"

I turned my head to see his reaction and found him shrugging, "if she wants."

"Yes, I want it," I blurted out before they cut me out of the conversation.

The other four snickered under their breaths, more at Patrick's expense than mine. He was the one that was stuck with me after all. They quietened when Patrick shot them a look before turning back to their respectful selves.

"Nickola will be at your beckon call. Talk to him if you need to go anywhere or need anything in particular," Patrick told me.

I turned my head to Nickola and smiled when he bowed his head in respect. Even if he tried, he couldn't remove that smile.

"Garrick, you know what needs to be done?" Patrick asked taking a step forward causing me to step back.

I didn't want to get in his way of running his business.

Garrick nodded, "yes, Boss. I'll see to everything."

I didn't dare ask what that meant. Pappa had never tried to get me involved in the family business and I never had a real urge to be a part of it. Perhaps it was because I already knew that I would have a husband that could run it for me.

"Good," Patrick huffed, looking like he had tackled one job for today.

"Miss Lizzy," I turned my head in the direction of my name being called and spied Mrs Philips poking her head out from behind the French doors, "breakfast is ready."

Without even realizing, I had turned to Patrick as if looking for permission to go eat. The strange part was that he nodded and gave it.

"Go, have your breakfast. I'll find you in half n hour."

Before I could argue, he headed for the stairs. I stood, a little stunned and a little confused. I was being told what to do? That was new.

Knowing I couldn't argue with him anyway, I skipped my way back into the dining room and into the kitchen where my freshly cooked crape was. A smile spread across my lips when I spied it, feeling a little piece of home was with me. Our cook, Mrs Scotts would always make me crapes for my birthday breakfast, knowing how much I loved them.

"When you smile like that, you make me think of your mother," Mrs Philips told me as she started on the dishes in the sink.

"You knew my mother?" I asked, not hiding the shock from my voice.

She nodded as a smile spread across her face as she thought of a past memory.

"I was the cook for Old Mr Maestri before Mr Patrick brought this place. It was our annual Christmas ball, and your mother had sneaked into the kitchen looking for something to eat. The poor woman was five months pregnant and her cravings were going mad," I couldn't help my laugher trying to picture the woman from the photos going through kitchen cupboards that weren't her own, "I will never forget that memory of her."

I tried to feel comfort from that, trying to feel the connection to my mother that I occasionally felt. I held the blue diamond that still hung around my neck, clutching it tight.

Coughing, I got over it and moved onto more urgent matters. Getting to know my husband.

"So you use to work for Oscar Maestri? Why did you leave?" I asked, trying to be subtle about it.

"Because Mr Patrick asked me too," she laughed, as if there was a private joke behind it.

"And you didn't feel guilty about leaving Oscar?" I asked, knowing that my father would die if Mrs Scotts left.

She shrugged, "I have more loyalty towards Mr Patrick than Mr Oscar. When you cook and watch a boy like him grow up, you can't help but feel loyal to him."

"So when he asked for you to come cook for him, how could you say no, right?" I giggled, loving this woman already.

She could cook, tick. She could cook really good, tick, tick. And she was loyal and I knew that in this world that was hard to fine, so tick, tick and tick.

She giggled with me, "Exactly. I've been cooking for that boy since he was born. I know what he likes, what he dislikes. What he wants when he's sick – not that he ever admits that he is. He can be very stubborn when he wants to be."

"So what your telling me is that I have my work cut out for me?" I questioned, reading between the lines.

She chortled, turning from the sink to look at me, "Mr Patrick is a creature of habit. And old habits die hard."

"So, yes," I finished for her, making her smile.

"Yes, yes you do."

"Eliza!"

I jumped three feet high when Patrick called out my name. My hand clutched my chest, trying to restart my heart again. God, don't these people make sounds when they walk, or what?

"You ready?" he asked, as if he didn't know that I had almost just died.

"For what?" I yelled across the space so that he would be able to hear me.

"For the tour of the house," he answered with a frown, as if I should have remembered.

Oh right, I almost forgot.

Nodding, I picked up my plate, knife and fork, dropped it in the sink before kissing Mrs Philips on the cheek. She was a little stunned at first, confused by my action.

"Thank you," I told her, patting her shoulder and winning a smile.

With that, I turned and skipped towards Patrick. My feet came to a sudden stop when I found Patrick not moving and staring straight at me. His brows drew together and his eyes were looking already at my face, taking in my features and trying to read me like I had been doing to him since the wedding.

"Looking for something?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes at him, not pleased that he was looking at me as if I was one of his business partners.

"Nope, not at all," he said, making me blink from the sudden change of personality, "Right this way."