We waited long after dark. When the boys were already making their way up stairs and Mrs Philips had left hours ago. All that was left was one security guard by the front door which Patrick told to leave in the end.

My body already felt relaxed at the smell of chlorine and the sight of the shining stars in the black sky. I placed our towels down on one of the arm chairs before Patrick handed me two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

"How about, you get into the tub and I'll start the fire," Patrick whispered in my ear, placing a kiss on my jaw bone.

I couldn't help but giggle, feeling flushed at the very idea. Getting to know Patrick Maestri, who knew that could make someone nervous.

Chuckling at me, Patrick took my hand and led me around the pool's edge. The water reflected on to the stones as we made our way around it. We split up, Patrick going for the fire place as I headed to the stone spa. I placed the glasses and wine down before placing my foot in the water. A moan escaped my lips at the touch of the nice cool water. I knew that Patrick was watching my every step, admiring my body in my white bikini, but I couldn't begin to care.

"So, how do I turn this thing on?" I asked, sitting down on the stone edge.

"The button," he told me, kneeling down with matches in his hands.

I turned my head and spotted the setting panel.

"Found it," I told him, standing and walking around to it, pushing through the water.

The setting penal was pretty simple. There was an on/off button, arrows pointing up and down and a heat setting. Clicking a couple, I got it to the perfect heat and bubble setting. I lowered myself into the water, groaning. God, I was in a vibrator.

"You look comfortable," Patrick chuckled, climbing in next to me.

"Shh," I hushed him, "Don't break my mood."

"Okay," he laughed.

I felt the water move before Patrick's slippery, wet hand cupped my shoulder massaging the muscle. Groaning, I let my head drop, getting caught up in the moment.

"No, no," I said snapping out of it, "I want to get to know you. Not get distracted."

Patrick groaned, but nodded, "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

"We'll start off small," I told him, "then we will get into the deep embarrassing stuff."

He snorted, but still he looked so uneasy.

I frowned, not use to this side of him, "You look like you've never done this before."

"I haven't," he admitted, shrugging, "I've never knew anyone that – anyway, it's something that you want to do."

I smiled, glad that he was at least willing to try this. Turning on my side, I decided it was time to start.

"Okay, what's your favourite colour?" I asked.

Patrick snorted, shaking his head, "all the questions in the world and you start with, what's your favourite colour?"

I shrugged, "I promised you small."

"Okay," he chuckled, "Black."

"Black? Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, it goes with everything," he argued.

"You mean your skin-tight dress and slip back heels that are in your wardrobe," I teased.

He narrowed his head, pinching my chin, "that's your skin-tight dress and slip back heels."

I shook my head, laughing at him.

"Just so that I know the rules to this, do I get to ask questions too?" he asked.

"Of course. Ask me anything, I'm an opened book," I shrugged, almost proud of it.

He hummed, tapping his finger on his chin, "okay, tell me something interesting about you?"

"You mean, beside from the whole mafia-arranged-marriage type thing?" I wanted clarified.

Patrick nodded, trying to hide his devious smirk.

I thought for a minute before I came up with it.

"I've got double jointed fingers, see," I declared, proudly, taking my middle finger and easily bending it back to the top of my hand.

Patrick snorted into his hand, clearly not expected that. All I could was smile, glad that I was surprising with him my answer.

Releasing my hand, my eyes seemed to drop to his torso, admiring the scar that sliced across his chest.

Quickly, I found my next question.

"How did you get your scars?" I asked softly, not wanting to scare him.

Patrick had dropped as his finger began to trace the scar as if he had just noticed it.

"Well," he started, his voice softer than before, "I got this one in a bar brawl."

"Bar brawl?" I questioned, before he could finish, "what were you doing in a bar brawl?"

He shrugged like it was nothing, "I was an angry person during my twenties, still am really. I'm not proud of it, I'm not proud of a lot of things. But I was."

Though I was proud of his confession, he hadn't answered my question.

"Patrick," I stopped him, "that's not what I asked."

He rolled his eyes but sighed, giving in, "he was just some idiot that got a little too wasted. He started throwing his weight around, upsetting people. I politely told him to leave, but of course he wouldn't have it. Next thing I know, he's on the ground and I'm punching the hell out of him," he paused shaking his head, "I didn't see the knife before it was too late."

"He stabbed you?" I gasped, jumping closer to him.

"Well, he didn't stab me exactly," he crossed, looking down at the scar, "more like sliced me."

"What did the people in the bar do?" I asked, horrified to know that someone would be so violent.

"Eventually, Garrick pulled me off him. He didn't realize what had happened till his saw the blood on his hands," I smiled at that, glad of Garrick, "he took me too the ER, stitched me up, and I was fine."

"Fine?" I blurted out, "you were fine? Weren't you traumatised? Someone just stabbed you."

"Not stabbed," he chuckled, cupping the side of my neck, "besides, I was twenty-two, I had just started my empire. I had already seen and done things that were traumatising. Compared to them, this was nothing."

I nodded swallowing, trying not to loose my nerve to ask more questions.

"What about this one?" I asked, reached my hand under his arm pit, running my fingers over the jagged skin.

He sighed, lifting his arm out of the water, resting it on the side of the spa.

"Car crash. Some idiot t-boned my car," he scoffed shaking his head.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "some idiot, or some idiot we know?"

A small smirk appeared on his face before he shook it away, "I was getting too cocky with some of the older mafia lords. Most of them are dead now, I doubt you met them."

I nodded, now running my thumb over the bumps.

"I'm half surprised that your father didn't tell you. I was in hospital for two and a half weeks," he stated, starting to return the favour by running his fingers down my arm.

Now it was my turn to disappointedly sigh, once again feeling the betrayal so deep.

"Don't feel bad, my darling," he told me, pinching my chin, "you were still young when it happened."

"How old were you?" I asked him.

"Twenty-four."

"I was fifteen," I stated, not hiding my annoyance, "not too young to know that my some-what fiancé was dying in a hospital some where."

He shook his head, "no, I made a decision a long time ago to not let you get involved in my troubles."

I huffed, forcing myself not to say what I truely felt. I sometimes wish that you had.

"What about your tattoos?" I questioned, " and . I noticed the boys have the same one."

Patrick nodded, allowing me to run my fingers down his silky breast bone.

"Loyalty and Respect. Values I hold most dear," he admitted, gently taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

I longingly sighed, feeling the tingles in my palm as his tongue licked the small drops of water. I decided to give him a break from the questions and allowed him to loose his mind for a bit.

"How come, you never save yourself?" He almost whispered, his eyes meeting mine for a moment.

I shrugged, "Easy, I didn't want my life to stop and, well, I'm friends with Zoey."

He nodded, clearly understanding, "Right, how did that happen? I mean, you two are so different."

"Her father worked for Pappa so she was always around the house because her mother use to work a lot and there was no where they could take her. So, she grew up with me, I mean I had always considered her as a sister," I giggled, remembering a memory, "there was a time where we were convinced that we were sisters. I remember, her mother sitting us both down and explaining that we weren't sisters because Zoey was clearly black and I was definitely white."

Patrick snorted and even managing a smile. I couldn't pretend that I wasn't proud that I brought that grin on his face when nothing else could.

"What about you?" I asked, "Do you have any happy childhood memories?"

"Ah, none that I can think of," he sighed, resting his head on his arm.

I frowned, "Really? None what's so ever?"

He shook head, as if just accepting it.

"What about pets? Did you have any pets?"

At the question, a small smile appeared on his face as he thought back to when he was young.

"When I was eight, all I wanted was a dog. I remember asking and asking," he chuckled a little, "And then, Christmas came and there was a puppy under the tree."

"What type?" I asked, feeling a grin starting to spread on my face.

"German shepherd," he answered making me moan, "There loyal, trustworthy. I loved that stupid dog. It followed me around everywhere, even slept with me."

I giggled, hiding my smile behind my hands, not noticing his face drop. He swallowed, turning his gaze away.

I frowned, reaching out for his arm, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he coughed, closing off.

"Hey," I stopped him, tilting his chin to force him to look at him, "Tell me."

He sighed, nodding, "A year after that, my father began to notice that I was getting too attracted to it. So, to teach me a lesson, he had me...shoot him."

Oh crap. I felt my heart break for the little nine year old that was forced to kill his best friend. A fire burned inside of me, hating Oscar even more than I did before. Who could do that to their son?

All I kept thinking about was their argument in my room. The way Oscar spoke to him like he was still a stupid teenager. It was only now that I realized that Patrick would have dealt with that his whole his life.

"I heard your argument," I told him, running my hand up and down his arm, "In my room, when my father died."

"I thought you were asleep," Patrick admitted, not looking at me.

"I was, kind of," I said, "Does he speak to you like that a lot?"

"Oh, Eliza," he sighed, finally looking at me, "My relationship with my father is complicated."

"That doesn't give him a right to speak to you like that, or make you kill your dog for that matter."

"He was trying to make me strong," Patrick explained, "You've only been in this world for five minutes, remember. You have no idea what evil lies in it."

"I know that it can orphan children just like that," I pointed out, clicking my fingers.

I didn't mean to play the dead parents card but it seemed to work. Patrick dropped his head in guilt, groaning a little to himself.

"Sorry," he told me, "I didn't mean –."

"I know Patrick and I get it," I agreed, "You do know this world better than me. But I've changed. It strange but it's true."

"It's not strange," he said shaking his head and cupping my cheeks, "I can see it. You're slowly beginning to become the person you were meant to be."

"And who is that exactly?" I questioned.

Patrick grinned, taking a hold of my hips and yanking me to his. I yelped from shock, swallowing at his lust-filled eyes.

"My Queen," he growled.

It couldn't wait. I took his lips, wanting them in the most lustful way. The vibrating sensation of the hot tub didn't help the situation, turning my body hot and wanting. Patrick's hands squeezed the backs of my thighs, slowly inching their way under my bikini pants.

"Oh Patrick," I moaned, falling out of the cloud.

"Oh Eliza," he groaned against my neck.

"No," I moaned, pushing him away from me, "I'm not done getting to know you."

He huffed, clearly not liking my decision. I knew what he wanted, hell, I wanted it too. But as soon as we went there, the whole getting to know each other would be thrown out the window.

"We need to cool down," I told him, not hiding my disappointment.

He nodded, still not liking it, "How about, you go cool down in the pool and I'll put another log on the fire?"

I agreed, hopping out of the spa as gracefully as I could. I adjusted my swimming bra, making sure the white triangles covered my breasts as I walked.

Putting my feet in at the circled platform, I sighed at the cool touch. I could almost see the steam raising from the water from the different temperatures. The water cooled my burning loins that had been set on fire by Patrick.

Patrick's dripping wet body didn't help the situation as he kneeled to poke the fire.

"When did you learn how to start a fire?" I called out.

"College," he answered, turning around and heading back over to me, "bone fire parties were a common occurrence."

I giggled, trying to picture Patrick as a party person. Nope, couldn't see it.

"What college did you go to?" I asked as he stepped into the water.

"Harvard," he answered, slipping fully into the pool.

The water reached the top of his chest when he was standing. I watched him as he walked laps of the pool, loving the sight.

"What about you?" He asked.

"Columbia," I told him.

He raised his brows, "you stayed in New York?"

I nodded, "Pappa wanted me close."

He frowned, now swimming towards me.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked, placing his hands on both sides of me, his face only inches from my own.

"Isn't that what we're doing here?" I teased.

He chuckled, "okay. Why haven't you ever done something for yourself?"

Titling my head, I tried to flirt, "What makes you think that I haven't done something for myself?"

"Because like you said, you're an opened book. One that is very easy to read," He pointed out, making me huff, "Well, come on. Answer the question?"

I sighed, not really having an answer, "He was my father. What else can I say? He had always put me first, no matter what. The least I could do was follow his orders."

He nodded, accepting that, "Did you, ever, think of going behind his back?"

"Of course," I scoffed, "But then I remembered...my mother. And that whatever he was doing, he was doing it for my safety."

He smiled, admiring some part of me that only he could see. Maybe the brave part of me. I didn't know.

"Do you ever miss her?" he asked me, brushing my cheeks.

I swallowed at the question, not really knowing how to answer him.

"I know that I shouldn't," I muttered, "I mean, how can you miss something that you never had?"

"Your human, Eliza, that's how. You have a heart and you're allowed to miss her if you want."

I nodded, collapsing onto his shoulder. He snickered at me, running his hands through the wet strands of my hair. It was only then that I realized that I didn't know anything about his mother.

"Hey, can I ask you about your mother?" I asked.

Patrick's body froze, tensing at the question. He pulled out of my grip, avoiding my eyes once again. I immediately wished that I hadn't and wanted to take it back.

"You don't have to answer –."

"No, no," he stopped me, rubbing my arm, "What do you want to know?"

I shrugged, not really knowing where else to start, "What happened to her?"

He sighed, his brows drawing together, "I don't really know, to be honest. She left one day to go to work and she didn't come home."

"Your father never told you?" I questioned.

He shook his head, "he never talked about it. All he said was that she was gone and that I had to accept it."

"How old were you?"

"Six. Like you."

I smiled at him, brushing back the floppy strands of his hair off his forehead. He looked so cute with his hair wet, as if he was just an ordinary man. But he wasn't. He was far from it.

"So, if any of that is a deal breaker..." he didn't finish, not wanting to.

"Hey," I groaned, cupping his neck and bringing his wet lips to mine.

I took them slowly, my lips fighting my argument for me.

Breaking apart, Patrick was frowning, his eyes looking all over my features.

"None what so ever," I declared making him smile.

Taking in a deep breath, I decided to give him what he was waiting for. Reaching my hands behind my head, I pulled the string of my swim suit. His eyes were glued to my breasts as I pulled the string that was tied under then. Pushing it away, I leaned back so he could look at me through the water. The wet, cold sensation caused my nipples to harden and the pain between my legs to return. My breath started to quicken as his hands slowly slid up my thigh to my pants. His fingers curled around the strings that connected the front to the back and started to pull them down my legs. I sighed, my arousal thickening at the touch of the water against my sex. Taking my thighs, Patrick yanked me to him, forcing me to feeling his hard on that pushed through his board shorts.

"Oh Eliza, you love playing with fire, don't you?" Patrick growled against my lips, cupping one of my breasts.

I dropped my head back, groaning as my hand slipping into his shorts. He hissed, leaping forward at my simple touch.

"Shit," he groaned as I pushed down his shorts, leaving us both naked in the pool.

God, I was fulfilling one of my wildest fantasies. But what I was quickly understanding with Patrick, that everything with him was intensified. So, why do it in a pool when we could do it in a spa.

"Patrick," I moaned, "Not here."

"God, Eliza," he groaned, "Don't deny me this."

I couldn't help but smile at him.

"I meant, let's go in the tub," I purred against his lips.

His eyes darkened in lust before he took my lips, biting it between his teeth.

"I like the way you think," he growled, making me giggle, "You get back into that tub and I'll get the condom."

I nodded, liking this plan.

Turning around, I made it to my feet, smiling when Patrick groaned at the sight of my dripping wet body. With a new found confidence, I walked around to the still bubbling tub. It only made the pain worsen when I sat down in the hot water and I couldn't help but start without him.

Spreading my legs, I ran my finger through my wet folds, but it had nothing to do with the water that surrounded me. They circled at my entrance before finally dipping in and giving me some relief.

I didn't even realise Patrick had stepped into the tub until he grabbed my wrist and roughly pulled my fingers out. My heavy eyelids opened to his lust-filled eyes, his hand holding my own out of the water.

"Being married means you never have to do that," Patrick growled, stepping forward.

I groaned, feeling his fingers entered me, pumping in and out.

"It means, I get to do it for you," he purred.

"God, Patrick," I groaned, my head dropping back.

"Yeah, if you think that feels good, turn around."