After ten minutes, I found the energy to get up and stumble back to my room. I was covered in sweat and in desperate need of a shower. Putting on some music, my ability to think went out the window as I stripped and got into the shower.

Patrick was going to kiss me. Why did that thought make my heart flutter and my stomach stir at the same time? I wanted him to kiss me. I was waiting for it. Why was my mind so cut off to my heart?

I knew who he was and that wasn't a good person. But somethings he did, I just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Perhaps it was because I hadn't been with a man in five months. When Pappa and Oscar started planning my wedding, boys were off limits. I needed to start preparing for being Mrs Patrick Maestri. I was surprised that I was allowed to see guys in the first place. Pappa did lose his mind when he found out that his little girl wasn't a virgin anymore and he always threatened to kill any boyfriend I had. But I had never been not permitted to see anybody. Especially when I had a friend like Zoey.

Turning off the tap, I stumbled out of the shower feeling my muscles already starting to ache after today's activity. Now, I remembered why I stopped excising. I got redressed into my old clothes before heading down stairs.

I figured that Patrick and Harald were in his study so I knew the kitchen was a safe spot. I had no plans in speaking to the person that sided with the man that killed my mother. How Patrick could let him in the house, I would never know?

I smiled when I found Mrs Philips in the kitchen, already cooking dinner. Moans escaped my lips at the delicious smell, my stomach grumbling.

"Mmm, what smells so good?" I groaned, coming up behind her.

She smiled at me, continuing to stir a pan of sauce while watching some sausages.

"How do you like sausages with some vegetables?" She asked.

"Love them," I moaned making her laugh.

"Good, Patrick will probably be with Mr Balboni so it's just you and the boys," she stated, making me frown.

He was seriously going to be with Harald that long. I thought he wanted me to - why am I disappointed? This way I don't have to sleep with him tonight.

"Is Balboni here a lot?" I questioned, taking a seat.

"Not often, only in certain circumstances," she answered.

"Like finding the person that hired the shooter," I guessed, knowing the answer.

She hummed a yes, not sounding pleased.

"Have you met Balboni?" I asked, hoping she wouldn't stop answering my questions.

I wanted to know if I could trust him. I was surprise to find that it wasn't for my own safety. It was for Patrick's. I didn't want Patrick being betrayed or put into arms way for something that started years ago.

"No more than asking him what he would like to drink," she stated, "but I know Old Maestri didn't like him."

"Didn't like him or didn't trust him?" I wanted clarified.

"Well, I guess both. In the Mafia world, no one really trusts anyone. Patrick doesn't even trust his own father."

"Really?" I cried, my eyes widened.

Mrs Philips froze, avoiding my eyes. She coughed trying to change the subject.

"I think this sauce is almost ready," she stated, moving over to the sink.

I refused to let her get away.

"Patrick really doesn't trust his father?" I questioned, "I mean, I understand. I couldn't trust Oscar. But he's his father."

"I really shouldn't have said anything," she covered moving back to the stove.

"But -," I stopped when I realized how dangerous this was for her.

She was talking about her boss's personal life. If Patrick over heard, it wouldn't end well.

"Anyway, how are you feeling?" Mrs Philips asked, changing the subject like a pro.

"Sore," I groaned, "Patrick and I just worked out. But his definition to working out is, throwing me on the mat five times and seeing how fast I can get up."

She chuckled at my response, not realizing that I was serious.

"To be fair, I did ask for it," I admitted, in a huff.

"Oh well, diner's almost ready," she told me, in an attempt to cheer me up.

I smiled, knowing it did.

Like a reflex, I pulled out my phone to past the time. My stomach dropped when I saw that I had three miss calls from Pappa. God, I promised I would call him.

Looking over Mrs Philips' shoulder, I spied the still cooking dinner. I guess saying that dinner is ready was a good excuse to get off the phone.

Placing my phone to my ear, I hit recall.

It only rang three times before he answered.

"Lizzy," Pappa answered, with panic dripping from his voice.

"Sorry, Pappa. I didn't have my phone on me," I told him, truthfully.

He sighed, relieved. Did he seriously think that something happened to me?

"I'm sorry," he apologised as I started to make my way out of the room, "I just worry about you, living there with him."

"Well, you're the one that told me to marry him," I huffed, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, "and he's not the one that lied to me. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I was scared," Pappa admitted, sounding disappointed with himself, "I didn't want you involved."

"I had to marry Patrick to keep this guy underground, I'm already involved."

"I know, I know," he said, trying to calm me down.

I bit my lip as my heart sank, knowing there was only one way forward. I couldn't think if he was constantly calling me, forcing me to talk. I wouldn't be able to move forward.

"Pappa, I think we need some space," I suggested, tears filling my eyes.

"What?" He asked horrified.

"I need to think," I explained, sniffing, "too many things are going through my head. I need time to get use to everything."

There was silence on his side. My heart was slowly breaking as I felt my father's sadness as if it was my own. We had always been so close when I was going up. Now, it was time for distance.

"Okay, Darling," he muttered on his end, causing the tears to flow, "promise me that you'll be okay."

I nodded, the lump in my throat, cutting off my breathing, "p-promise."

"Okay, my Darling. I love you."

I sniffed, "I love you."

I hung up, before he could say anything else. My head fell forward not sure if I had just ruined my relationship with my father. The only family I've had since I was six. It was worse than a break up. And it didn't matter the reasons behind it. Something felt missing.

"Miss Lizzy?"

My head shot up and I found Mrs Philips pocking her head through the dining room door.

"Diner's ready," she said softly, noticing that I was upset.

I nodded, wiping away the tears and managing a smile, "Okay, I'll be in, in a minute."

After dinner, I was completely drained but like always, I knew my mind wouldn't rest. There was only so many showers I could take in a day and I didn't feel like going for a swim. So, time for my third option. Alcohol.

I froze when I found Patrick and Harald at the bar. That's where they had been. I could still escape knowing that I hadn't been caught. I would just have to find some drinks in my –

"Eliza?" I froze at the sound of Patrick's voice.

Crap. Sprung.

"Sorry, I didn't think you were in here," I said, surprisingly honest, covering my own disappointment.

"And we shouldn't be. I was just leaving," Harald told me as the two of them stood from their stools.

I watched them in interest as they shook hands, wearing no smile on their faces. My eyes were glued to Patrick's dark ones, knowing they told all the truth when his lips didn't.

"Thank you for your help, Harald," Patrick said, his grip on Harald's hand not loosening.

"any time," Harald replied, letting go with the same soulless look.

God, these two could play poker.

They let go and stood apart, before Harald turned and made his way over to me.

"It was lovely to see you again, Eliza," he told me, taking my hand and planting a kiss on it.

"Likewise," I breathed, taken back by his gesture.

He smiled at me, causing my blood to boil, before making his way down the corridor. I couldn't help but shudder. Ew. Never ever was I letting that man near me again.

Opening up my eyes, I spied Patrick's smirk. He knew exactly what was going on through my head.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked me.

I nodded, playing my need for one down, "I could go for one."

He smiled, moving around to the other side of the bar.

"What do you drink?" he asked as I made my way over to the bar and taking a seat on one of the stools.

"Anything," I answered, willing to try anything he put in front of me.

He snickered, taking a bottle of scotch from the self and another crystal glass. We fell into silence that wasn't uncomfortable for once. He poured half an inch but that was all I needed.

I took the sip of the rich liquid, tasting the alcoholic substance. Already, I felt the numbing sensation and the fuzzy feeling in my stomach.

"Good?" Patrick asked.

I nodded, putting the glass down. I didn't plan on making any drunk mistakes tonight.

Wanting to start a conversation, I asked, "How can you even put up with him?"

Patrick shrugged, putting back the bottle of scotch, "He has connections all over New York."

"Don't you have connections?" I asked, wondering why someone that seemed to be as powerful as Patrick was asking help from people he couldn't even trust.

He hummed a yes, "My connections are mostly in the other Mafias, that's why I needed Harald Balboni's and Paige Caivano's help. If they couldn't find anything, then I would have asked the other families for help."

"Could they find something?" I asked, getting to the good stuff.

Patrick sighed, "Balboni found the name of the guy that hired Jorden. Problem is, he's in Mexico."

Of course.

"What? Hate the hot weather?" I joked.

He snickered, shaking his head, "No, but Mexico is the Cartel territory. I would have to have their permission to kill -."

I took a sip of scotch, trying to come cool with the idea. Patrick hung his head, remembering how I felt about killing people.

"Let's pretend like I understand your reasonings behind it," I suggested, making him shake his head.

But he continued.

"Anyway, I can't do anything with him without the Cartel's permission. And I don't like asking for permission," I couldn't help but snicker at that, "the other option is bringing him back over the border. Which isn't difficult, just annoying."

I nodded, taking another sip.

Like before, I wanted to change the subject. I didn't want to always think of him as this horrible person. And I think I knew the topic.

"You know, Nickola told me what you did for the guys."

Automatically, Patrick's head dropped, "he shouldn't have."

"Well, he did. Question is, why didn't you?" I asked.

He shrugged, "simple. They're not my stories."

"Your in them."

"So," he said simply.

I shook my head, "no, you don't want me to think your a good guy."

"I don't have to make you think anything. You thought that a long time ago," he stated.

"True," I admitted.

He snickered, shaking his head, "you know, you never answered my question."

Crap. The flow of conversation stopped. My heart began to flutter as my cheeks started to burn. My brain stopped working and I couldn't think to answer.

"Do you want me too?" I asked, sounding like I was sixteen again.

He dropped his head, almost looking embarrassed. It was...cute.

"I'm not used to asking," he admitted, "but I wouldn't mind."

Oh crap, this guy had me. If I slept with him tonight, there would be no turning back.

"Just sleep?" I wanted clarified.

He nodded, biting his lip to stop from chuckling, "just sleep. I mean, unless -."

"Nope," I shook my head, knowing what he was going to say, "just sleep."

"Okay, amore," he chuckled, "whatever you say."

😘