Nickola was right. I needed sleep. From the minute my head hit the pillow, I was out. And for a while, I wasn't here. I had nothing to prove, no standards to meet, no one that really needed me.

The second morning was a little bit easier to wake up too. I wasn't as blind as I was yesterday. I now knew the house, I knew the people and most importantly, I knew my husband.

I was nowhere near working him out but I knew a few things. He was arrogant and he obviously didn't like me very much. But it was time to fight fire with fire. If Patrick didn't want me around, then fine. I didn't mind finding a replacement.

With that thought in mind, I found the will to hop out of bed. I didn't feel like getting changed and I kind of hoped I could use it to my advantage. Snatching my white robe, I pulled it on before moving over to the curtains and opening them. I knew that opening up the curtains and looking out at the view would always be the highlight of my day.

Before I took off down stairs, I looked sat myself in the mirror. My hair wasn't too bad, considering and I just needed to fix up my eyebrows a little. After that, I was good enough to be seen.

I was surprised to find, Patrick and the whole lot of his men were in the kitchen. They weren't exactly joking around, but they weren't doing business. Actually they just looked like a group of brothers having a coffee. Pulling my robe tighter, I regrated my decision not to get dressed. Looking back at the door, I knew I still had time to change my mind.

Nope, nope. I had made up my mind.

Taking in a deep breath, I held my head high like a queen. I wanted coffee and I was going to get it.

"Morning," I greeted, cutting through the little boy club and beelining for the coffee.

Antonio and Alberto jumped closer to the bench as if I had a disease and Garrick and Patrick both took a gulp from their coffee. I heard Piero cough awkwardly, trying to cover whatever conversation they were talking about. Nickola was the only one that seemed happy to see me.

Turning around, I eyed every single one of them, drinking my coffee.

I groaned, loving the taste, "Good coffee."

There were a few snickers here and there as the five of them all turned their gazes to Patrick, almost challenging him to respond. He didn't, instead continued to sip his coffee.

"How did you sleep, Lizzy?" Garrick asked, turning their eyes to me.

"Brilliantly," I smiled, "my bed's really comfortable."

Antonio snorted into his mug, winning a glare from Patrick. If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he was jealous.

"Antonio, Alberto, didn't you have something to see to. Concerning tonight," Patrick growled, every single word having a hidden meaning.

The two of them jumped into action, putting their mugs down and pacing back towards the void. I smiled when I saw Alberto hit his brother, clearly angry that he had laughed.

Patrick coughed, turning his body so that his back now faced his men.

"Piero, Nickola, I'm sure there's another place where you can be?"

My mouth dropped. Rude. The strangest thing was that they took it and listened to him.

I waited for him to snap at Garrick but all he needed to do was give him a look and Garrick got the picture. And so did I. I placed my mug down and prepared to fight.

Once Garrick was safely past that dining room door, Patrick turned to me with that cold look that seemed to be growing on me.

"This little act is cute," he growled at me, his voice rough.

"I have no idea what you're talking about –."

"Don't play dumb," he snapped, "The whole little dress-in-pjs-thing only works on teenage boys who haven't had a decent screw."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my anger waking me better than what coffee ever could, "And I suppose you have."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes, "What do you think?"

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. And here I thought I was trash. I bet he's slept with half of New York.

"You should have asked one of them to be your wife," I snapped, aiming to turn around.

His hand took a hold of my hip, turning my body so that I still faced him. I jumped at his hot touch, my skin sizzling from the unexpected contact. My eyes were glued to that hand, almost willing it to let go. He took a step forward, closing the gap between us and pushing me up against the counter. He tucked his finger under my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. The very action caused my heart to pound against my rib cage and I prayed that he couldn't hear it. His final step made the distance disappear and brought his pelvis against mine. My eyes widened when I felt something hard digging into me and I couldn't quite get over my shock. That bastard was hard.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than wearing your underwear in front of my men to make me jealous, Eliza," he growled in my ear causing a breath to get suck in my throat.

I clenched my thighs together, refusing to admit the effect he had over my body. The worse part was, he knew it. How could he not? My cheeks had been lit on fire by the heat of his breath against my face. The smug look he had over his face when he pulled back and finally gave me room said it all. He backed right off, moving back to get to his coffee.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate –

"I'm going to be home late tonight," he told me, refilling his mug.

I frowned, "Why are you telling me?"

He shrugged, "Fulfilling my husbandry duties."

I scoffed, "Haven't done it before."

He shot me a look but remained silent.

"Where are you going?" I asked, more testing him than actually interested.

There was no doubt that this had something to do with his call yesterday. But I was giving him a chance to be honest.

"Nowhere that concerns you."

He lost. Badly.

"I think it's pretty irresponsible of you to put twenty of your men in arms way just to please the Russians."

The look he gave me sent shivers down my spine. It brought a cold, dulling ache inside of me. Like death was loaming over both of us.

"If you want me to trust you, eavesdropping on my conversations, isn't the way to start!" he shouted.

"I didn't eavesdrop, you were yelling and I was walking by!" I yelled, watching as he took a step forward.

"Bullshit!"

"I. Don't. Lie!" I yelled, pushing off the bench, not letting his loaming body intimidate me in anyway.

"You better hope so," he growled, "Because I put bullets in people that lie to me."

"And to think I had such high hopes for this marriage," I sighed, sarcastically.

"Now, is not the time to be a smartass," he growled threw his teeth, snatching my arm before I escaped, "What do you know?"

I flinched as pain seized my arm and tears threatened to fill my eyes. Not from the pain but from the fear of his ruthless strength.

"Not much. Only that something's going down that you don't want to get ugly – I'm assuming you mean, the cops. And you want someone – I'm guessing the Russian Mafia, to pull his weight," I told him, truthfully.

His eyes narrowed, burning marks into my skin.

"Good," he growled, taking a step back, "That much won't get you killed."

"From you?" I asked, taking a step forward.

He chuckled, "No. Lucky enough for you, you mean more to me alive than dead."

"Oh, so I can sleep safely in my bed tonight," I growled.

He snickered again, "Yes, in a comfortable bed."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Typical. Using my own line against me.

"Stay in tonight," Patrick ordered, moving the topic.

"Why?" I snapped, though I don't think I had planned to go out.

"Because as you heard, something's going down tonight and I don't need to be worrying if my wife is out on the town," he snarled back, just frustrated that I had asked, "Nickola will stay here with you."

"Really, you're not taking him with you?" I asked, curious.

"Nope," he answered, not giving me any clues to why.

"Why?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Because he's better here, babysitting you."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

😘