I woke to the feeling of soft kisses to my neck. The feeling alone caused small giggles to escape my lips at the ticklish feel. I couldn't contain my smile, loving the warmth that Patrick's body radiated.

"That tickles," I groaned, still half asleep.

"It's not supposed to tickle," Patrick mumbled against my neck.

"What's it supposed to do?" I asked rolling over in his grip.

He smiled, brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers, "It's supposed to wake you up, so that I could do this –."

I yelped, caught off guard, before melting into his lips. I groaned into his mouth, lapping at his tongue. His grip around me tightened, forcing my mouth to open wider for him. When we broke apart, we didn't move very far.

All I could do was giggle, amazed by how far we had come in only a short amount of time.

"I guess that makes our marriage consummated," I giggled, making him chuckle, his eyes burning as he looked down at me.

"I guess so," he agreed, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Are we going to tell anyone?" I asked him, drawing circles along his chest.

He shrugged, "I'm sure they'll figure it out."

I nodded, curling closer to him. I could feel his fingers, dancing along my back like little feet. It brought all of last night to the surface, reminding me of what positions we did it in, the feel of Patrick's package in my mouth, the way he squeezed my ass and bit my breasts and the sound of my name on his lips.

"Hey, how come you don't call me Lizzy?" I asked him, pulling back to see his face.

He shrugged, "I like Eliza. It suits you better."

I cringed, "no it doesn't."

He chuckled, running his nose along my neck, causing sparks to fly, "yes, it, does."

I groaned in response, feeling his hard on rubbing against my thigh. Rolling over, I retrieved a condom from the bedside table before handing it to him.

"Can't get enough, I see," Patrick growled in my ear as I heard the condom packet rip.

"I could say the same about you."

After well delivered sex and a well-deserved shower in my own room, I got dressed in another suit. It was the same style as the one that I wore yesterday but grey and went well with another white blouse. I decided to braid my hair today before adding a bit of makeup on my face to hide the little sleep I had last night. Not that I was complaining. Adding small touches like my necklace and slipping on my grey ankle-strap heels, I was good to go.

Slowly, I was beginning to get use to the strange faces around the house that guarded every entrance. I skipped into the dining room, finding everyone in the kitchen.

"There she is," Patrick announced making my pace slow with caution.

"What's going on?" I asked reading everyone's amused faces.

"Guess who just quit?" Patrick quizzed, making me frown, "Carter handed in his resignation."

"What?" I yelled, not hiding my shock, "why?"

Patrick shrugged, not willing to give me the answer.

"Because of my ideas or the fact that I'm a woman," I snapped, not meaning to take it out on him.

"The guy's a prick, I wouldn't worry about it Lizzy," Garrick reassured me.

I'll say. Though I couldn't help but feel offended. Just when I thought things were going my way.

"But, good news is, you get to hire someone," Nickola pointed out.

That was true. And I think I had someone in mind.

"I want to hire Carry."

Watching the six of them choke on their coffee was priceless.

"Excuse me?" Patrick coughed, "you want a prostitute to run your brothel."

"Prostitute is such an ugly word," I sighed, making his eyes narrow before I pleaded my case, "it's a good idea. Carry's has been working there for six years and I'm sure she knows more about what goes on behind closed doors than Carter ever did."

"Ew, ew!" Nickola yelled, squeezing his eyes shut, "I just pictured Carter as a prostitute."

"Ew!" The boys cried.

"Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself!" Alberto shouted, pushing his shoulder, "even Piero wouldn't go there."

Piero dropped his shoulders, giving Alberto a come on look, "who do you think I am? I'm bi. Not desperate."

"Yeah, I mean he has male strippers' numbers on speed dial," Garrick teased, winning a hit to the chest.

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," Piero warned.

"Oo," Antonio chuckled, getting in on the joke.

As the boys continued to bust on each other, my eyes found their way to Patrick's. They looked me up and down, already undressing me. I raised a brow, teasing him.

Getting back to the topic at hand, I asked Patrick, "What do you think? About Carry, not Piero's sex life."

I received snorts from the boys but finally got straight answers.

"If you think it will work than I don't see why you shouldn't at least try. But I get the pleasure of saying, I told you so, when you fail," he smirked, raising his mug like he was toasting.

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing that it wouldn't come to that. Carry cared about the girls, more than Carter ever did. It would work.

"Is there any place we need to be today?" I asked Patrick, wondering if I had to prepare for another meeting with someone from the Mafia.

"Nowhere that needs urgent attention. Why?" he asked.

I shrugged, wondering if there was some place I needed to be. Then one popped into my head.

"I want to go home," I told him.

He frowned, "You are home."

"No, I mean Pappa's house," I corrected, "I need to see his office."

Automatically pity faces surrounded me, feeling sorry for me.

"Ah, Eliza. You don't have to –."

"I want to," I told him, "Pappa probably has all kinds of paper work that I need to see, his will and stuff. And I also need to know what state the house is in."

Patrick nodded, understanding my reasons behind it but still seemed to be worried about it. I scoffed, needing coffee more than ever. I didn't need anyone's pity right now. I needed to move on, at least forget about it.

"Can I speak to Eliza alone for a minute?" Patrick asked the guys, a clear sign of saying, go away.

The boys left without question, leaving Patrick and I alone.

"Are you okay?" Patrick asked, moving closer to me.

"Yes," I said between my teeth, "I don't need you or anyone else feeling sorry for me. I got enough of that for two weeks. Now, I want to focus."

"I get that, you have no idea how much I get that," he reassured me, taking my arm, "but you only came out of that bed yesterday. I don't want you to find anything that will make you go back into it."

"I'm fine," I told him, making him give me that, come on look, "You're not the boss of me, Patrick."

"No, I'm your husband," he smiled, a cocky look appearing on his face.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. He snickered at my expense, moving even closer to me.

Tucking stray hairs behind my ear, he muttered quietly, "Okay, how about, tonight, we go for a swim?"

I shook my head, forcing myself to remain pissed off but a smile was slowly spreading on my lips at the very idea.

"That's got you smiling," Patrick remarked, chuckling himself.

"You are unbelievable –."

Patrick's lips cut me off, turning me to putty in his hands. I groaned, clawing my hands at his hairline as his arms hugged me tight to his body. All I wanted to do was get lost in his arms. Just for a moment.

"Uh-um," Garrick coughed.

Patrick's lips let go of me, his head, dropping on my shoulder as he groaned. I closed my eyes, wishing that Garrick had just given us just a couple more seconds.

"What?" Patrick snapped, stepping away from me and glaring at Garrick.

"Well, if Lizzy wants to get to Uomini cielo, then to Uccello's place, we better get a move on," he explained, his grin only growing, "I mean, unless you have other things on your mind."

Patrick looked to me as if for permission.

I nodded, "We better go. No reason to hold off telling Carry the good news."

I paced passed Garrick not able to take his burning gaze. I wasn't ashamed of sleeping with Patrick. But I just wished we had a little more time of just us knowing.

Carry was over the moon. I had never seen a smile that big. She even cried, seeing the opportunity to better her life and better the girls' lives. She rambled off a million ideas, including updating the place. All things that I wanted to agree with but there were too many things going through my head.

We could barely get out of there alive before we were back in the car again heading for my family home. I was a little nervous. I hadn't been there since the wedding and that was almost a month ago now.

"Your nervous," Patrick stated, not really a question.

I nodded, not scared to admit it, "Yeah."

"Is it about your father?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Last time I was there, I was a princess, scared about starting a future with a man that I didn't know."

"And now?" he questioned.

"And now," I sighed, "everything is different. It's not bad. It's..."

I couldn't even finish, the words lost.

"It's like, I'm finally seeing the world for what it is. Growing up, Pappa always shielded me from it and I didn't even realize that the darkest parts of the world were in my very house," I finally ended with.

Patrick nodded, accepting my answer, "Do you think you're better off knowing?"

I was silent thinking about it. I honestly didn't know.

"I know I can't go back," I answered, "Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I don't know yet."

"Well, when you've figured it out, can you tell me?" he asked, "I would like to see the world from your eyes. Even just for a moment."

Before too long, we were driving into the stone gates of my family home. The car drove up the white patterned drive way and round the black stone male statue feature garden in the middle of the car port. My heart warmed when I saw the mansion, still loving the four cream columns. It was two story with eleven windows at the front and an oval French door at the front.

Getting out of the car, I took in my familiar surroundings, feeling comfort in this changing world. Patrick quickly followed with Garrick not far behind. There wasn't any need for the second car to come along.

"Does it feel different?" Patrick asked me, joining me on my side of the car.

I shook my head, feeling a smile starting to spread on my face, "No. It feels exactly the same."

Climbing up the two steps, I opened up the glass French doors and was greeted with the slipt level and the two staircases that led up to the gallery. White tiles stretched out down between the two stairs to a corridor and two French doors that led into a living area and two staircases that led to the ground level. Grey marble were featured around the space, on the steps, the railing and wall trips.

"Hello!" I called out.

"Who's that? Oh I know that voice," I heard Karly's voice before she came around the corner, her face lighting up, "Oh my God, look who it is."

She hadn't changed in the month that I had been gone. She was still small and round and wearing an apron like it was an accessory.

I laughed, running into her arms, taking in her lavender smell.

"Oh my Darling, how are you? You were a ghost at the funeral," she asked, looking me up and down, "Are you looking after yourself? Are you eating well? No, of course not, your skin and bone? Who's feeding you?"

She didn't give me time to answer, instead pointing straight at Patrick, "You, are you looking after her?"

Patrick froze like a deer in the headlights, looking at Garrick for help.

Garrick shook his head, his eyes wide with horror, "Ah uh, this is all you."

Patrick groaned, knowing he would have to deal with my cook all on his own.

"Hi, I'm Patrick Maestri," Patrick introduced himself, offering out his hand.

Karly looked at it and raised her eyebrow, "I know who you are. You're the man that my sugarplum was forced to marry."

Patrick sighed, guessing already what Karly thought of him. That he was just as dark as his father. Maybe he was, but I was getting used to it.

"Play nice, Karly," I told her, though it didn't stop her staring at him like he had just stolen the silverware.

"Well, what do you need, Honey?" Karly asked, turning her gaze to me.

"I just need to go through Pappa's things," I told her.

She nodded, obviously knowing that I would one day, "Well, I've made sure that know ones gone in there. It's exactly how he left it."

I thanked her by kissing her cheek and hugging her tight, "Thank you."

"No worries, baby. Just call me when you need me."

And with that, she headed down the hall before turning the corner and disappearing out of sight. I led the charge up the stairs with Patrick and Garrick following behind.

"God, your cook seems like a piece of work," Garrick scoffed in disbelief.

"What can I say, everyone was very protective of me," I explained.

"I'll say," Patrick scoffed this time, "she looked as if she was going to beat me to a pole."

"I wouldn't put it passed her," I laughed, walking straight through the two French doors and into Pappa's study.

Light shined all around us, reminding me of Pappa's eyes. He had always said that light should rain down on our castle. I always thought it was because he liked how the light shined off the white tiles. I never realized it was to mask the darkness of his business life.

It was set out with a grey desk to the side and two lounges facing each other to the other side. I headed straight for the desk, knowing that's where everything that I needed was.

"Okay," I sighed, looking at the desk and the plie of papers.

I had no idea where to start. What were all these? Bills, bills, invoices, bills, letters. Patrick joined me, sorting through them all.

"Put them in piles. Business, home, wages, personal," Patrick told me, picking up a piece of paper, "liquor order for Uomini cielo."

"Brandon Walkers' wage..."

Oh. I hadn't even realized. All those people were out of a job. All the cooks, cleaners, bodyguards, all unemployed.

"Ah, Patrick, what happened to all Pappa's employees? His bodyguards?" I asked.

"I hired a few," he stated, "Father hired some, so did Paige Caivano. Don't worry. I made sure that they all had a job."

I sighed in relief, grateful for his help. I was amazed how much I had missed in those two weeks.

I left Patrick with the desk and went on to his draws. I froze when I found a pistol in his top draw. Did he ever use that? Did he ever use that on someone? Was Patrick right? Was my father a killer like him? Patrick stopped what he was doing when he noticed my stunned state, staring at the weapon.

Taking over, Patrick closed the draw and took my hand.

"It was for protection," Patrick reassured me, before returning to the papers.

Fearing that I would find something that I didn't want, I turned around and took the corner of the painting that hung off the wall and pulled it open. It revealed a wall safe which took me three turns of the dial before it opened for me.

"Whoa," Garrick laughed, "no way am I giving you the passcode to my phone."

I giggled, going through it. I found wards of cash, surprising even myself at how much was in there. I frowned when I found photos. There was a whole sack of them, only held by a rubber band. A small smile spread on my lips when I recognised the young version of my father and the only face of my mother that I ever knew.

"Garrick can you take these for me," I asked him, making him walk from his spot on the lounge over to me.

"What are they?" Garrick asked, taking them.

"Photos. And can you run down and find Karly. Ask her to find you a bag, or a brief case."

He frowned, "What for?"

All I had to do was pull out one ward of cash and he got the picture. He nodded with wide eyes before pacing out of the room.

Patrick was the only one that didn't seem surprised.

"What do you think he needed so much money for?" I asked him, secretly trying to get an insight into how his mind worked.

"I guess, just encase he needed to leave the city or country in a hurry and he couldn't reach his bank accounts," he shrugged.

"Is that what you would do?" I questioned.

He nodded, "But, it's going to be awhile before you get the code to my wall safe."

I snorted but accepted it. Putting my hand deeper in the wall safe, I frown when I felt something like paper. Thinking it was his will, I pulled it out. It was a letter. For me? Just as I went to open it, I froze. These would be the last words my Pappa would ever say to me. I couldn't read them. Not here. Not now. Before Patrick saw it, I folded it and suck it in the pocket of my jacket.

"Have you found anything interesting?" I asked Patrick, moving back over to the desk.

He sighed, handing me a yellow folder, "You should read through these."

I frowned, taking it, "What are they?"

"It's the side of your father's business that aren't...legitimate," he answered.

"You mean, not legal," I clarified, flicking through the papers, surprised by the familiar names.

Eagle Yeung, Harald Balboni, Paige Caivano, Oscar Maestri, Patrick Maestri...Patrick was in illegal business with my father. I didn't know why I was so shocked. I mean, he's killed people. Why shouldn't he be involved in something illegal?

"Your in here," I stated, not hiding my shock.

Patrick looked at me with guilt in his eyes, almost like he was ashamed.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had an illegal business with my father?" I asked.

"I thought you knew," he stated, making my eyes narrow.

Now, Patrick was a great lier, one of the best. But I knew for a fact that he was lying then.

"You know I wouldn't. You knew my father kept all of this from me. Why would you keep this from me?" I asked, not trying to hide that I was a little hurt.

"I wasn't trying to keep anything from you. I was trying to keep you away from it," he corrected.

I frowned, "it's the same thing -."

"Look, Eliza, I do business with a lot of dangerous people," he argued, escaping to the other side of the desk, "I thought it was best to keep you out of it."

"Yeah and I get that," I snapped, following him around to his side of the desk, "but my father wasn't one of them."

He huffed, not having a decent argument to fall back on.

"What was it anyway?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"It was a simple trade off. I brought drugs from my Russian contacts, sold them to your father so that he could sell them to his Chinese contacts," he explained, frustrated that I wasn't accepting this as easily as he would have hoped.