"Okay, let me get this straight, you guys are going to teach me how to be a gangster?" I questioned the boys in the kitchen.

I still lived in denial about this whole night and refused to believe that I was going to my father's casino. Patrick had other ideas and had put everything aside today to teach me how to play poker enough to beat the Chinese drug lord. I applauded his efforts. But I couldn't see how someone that hasn't played a real game of poker in her life could go up against someone who has been making money off it.

"Yes," Patrick sighed, "Alberto is a champion of the game and Piero practically eat cigars."

"I don't smoke," I told him, finding the whole plan ridiculous.

"Your going to have to tonight," he said, not taking no for an answer, "I can tell you all of Eagle's tricks and I've already organised Zoey to do your hair for tonight."

I frowned, not realising the effort he had gone too.

"You've really thought all of this through, haven't you?" I questioned him.

He shrugged, "this is your opportunity to show Eagle that you're not this naive girl that doesn't know anything about business. That's what he's looking for. He's wants to use it to his advantage."

"By striking deals that I don't understand but will benefit him greatly, type of advantage?" I asked, finding myself a little scared now.

Patrick nodded. Great.

"You've just got to be confident," Nickola told me, "it's your casino, don't let him control you."

"Yes, now with that advice from Mother Superior, let's get started," Patrick scoffed, gesturing towards the door.

I followed him out with the boys not far behind. He led us through the library to the bar where a poker table had been sat up on the second level. We all took our seats around the table, with Alberto on one side of me and Patrick on the other.

"Eagle will invite us to his private gaming room on the top floor," Patrick explained, "Him, a few of his men will play us before playing a one on one game with you."

"How do you know that?" I asked, realizing that Patrick seemed to know everything about what was going to happen tonight.

"Eagle gave me the same offer when I first started. Like I said. It's his way of trusting people," He explained.

"Did you win?"

"Of course," he scoffed, like it was a no brainer.

"Then why don't you take my place and play him for me," I suggested, finding every opportunity I had to get out of it.

Patrick smiled at me, seeing what I was doing.

"He doesn't want to play me. He wants to play you," he told me, making me scoff.

"Are you two done? Or are we going to play poker," Alberto asked, already splitting up the chips.

Patrick narrowed his eyes at him, "sometimes, I think you forget that I'm the one that pays your wages."

Alberto shrugged, taking it, but not saying anything else.

"So what do that chips represent?" I asked, wining a few snickers from the boys.

"Anything you want. Ten dollars, hundreds, thousands. Depends on where you're at. But we will play with nothing," Alberto explained.

"What will Eagle play with?" I asked.

"Hundreds, most of the time," Patrick told me, "but he might make other offers. Like for the casino."

"He will make me bet my casino?" I cried, horrified.

He nodded, "that's what I mean by testing you."

I huffed, sitting back in my chair. Unbelievable. Nothing was sacred in this world.

"You have to give away five chips every time you play," Alberto told me, throwing in five chips himself, followed by the boys.

"So, pretty much, before you've started playing, you've already lost money," I clarified.

"Correct."

He then dealt the cards giving each of us five. He lied out another five cards in the middle of the table.

I looked at mine. I had a Jack, a two, an ace, a queen and an eight.

"Eagle likes to play Texas Hold'em Poker," Alberto told me, "you have five cards in the middle, right. Now, you can start betting straight away or someone can call check -."

"Check," Garrick called out, winning a death stare from Alberto.

"So, then we flip the first three cards called the flop," Alberto said, flipping over the first three cards, "The aim is to get pairs, two pairs, three of a kind, a straight, a flush, full house, four of a kind, straight flush and royal flush."

I nodded, pretending like I knew what any of that meant. Looking at the three cards, I spied no connection to my own. A moan escaped my lips before I could help it.

"Okay, that, that will make you lose," Alberto pointed out as the boys snickered.

I frowned, "What will?"

"That little moan. We know you have a crap hand," Alberto chuckled.

I bit my lip, my cheeks burning under their eyes.

"Well, maybe I'm bluffing," I suggested, a cheeky grin spreading on my face.

"Okay, bet on it," Alberto challenged.

"Okay, how much?" I asked.

"Go, two chips for starters. Unless your hand is excellent," he teased.

I narrowed my eyes at him but put two chips in, followed by the boys.

"I raise you two," Patrick said, putting in another two chips.

"Okay, Eliza, now you have to put in two more chips," Alberto told me as he put his two chips in.

I did as I was told.

"I fold," Nickola sighed, flopping his cards down.

"Me too," Piero followed.

"I'm in," Antonio said.

"I'm in," Garrick said, putting in another two chips, "And I call check...again."

Alberto rolled his eyes but flipped the third card. A Jack. Yes!

Alberto snorted, "Your so going to lose tonight."

"Hey!" I cried, "This is my first game."

"Yeah and you're going to be playing someone who was probably alive when the game was invited. You're going to have to be better."

I huffed at his tough love.

"Why can't we just play Uno, I can play Uno?" I told them, making them laugh.

"We're trying to play poker and she wants to play Uno," Piero scoffed.

"Can we get back to the game, please?" Patrick asked, "We have a lot to get through. I'm in."

"I will match your two chips and raise you one," Garrick announced forcing the rest of us to put in three more chips.

"Eliza?" Patrick pushed.

"Ah, one," I said throwing in a chip.

"And I'll call check," Alberto announced flipping the last card.

An ace.

Don't show your emotions, I told myself, don't let them know.

"I fold," Antonio huffed, dropping his hand and flopping back on his chair.

"Me too," Garrick followed.

"I'm in," I said throwing in a chip.

"So am I," Patrick said, following my lead.

"Me too, okay, what do you have?" Alberto asked.

"Two pairs," I said proudly, lying out my fivecards on the table.

My head turned to Patrick who was looking between me and his cards as a smirk slowly grew behind his hand.

"Alberto," Patrick called.

"Full house," Alberto announced, making my jaw drop.

How the hell did he do that?

"Your good, Alberto," Patrick stated, making Alberto smile with pride, "But just remember who's the king. Straight flush."

Alberto groaned, hitting the table with his fist. I was stunned, I couldn't pretend otherwise. How the hell did they get good cards?

"How did you do that?" I asked them.

He shrugged "Talent."

"Luck," Alberto scoffed.

"So, how can you win when you have a crappie hand?" I asked.

"Don't get a crappie hand," Piero unhelpfully scoffed.

"Bluffing," Patrick corrected, "Making them think that you have an unbeatable hand. The problem is when they call your bluff."

I sighed, my head pounding with the new information. Tonight was unavoidable. I couldn't pretend anymore. I was going to have to face Eagle and try to win or lose everything my father spent his whole life building.

"Okay," I started, leaning forward, "let's go again."

"I really don't see why I have to learn how to smoke a cigar," I stated looking at the brown stick of cancer that Piero had just handed me.

"It's apart of the look," he told me, ripping open the packet.

"What look?" I frowned, trying to put this off as long as possible.

"Well, there's no way we can make you into a gangster in one day. But making you look like one, well that might just be possible," Piero explained, probably not meaning to offend me, "There's a lot of things men in this world can say no too, a pretty face isn't one of them."

Okay, he was forgiven.

"Yeah, but, how does giving me cancer help with 'the look'?" I asked.

"Simple. Cigars represent everything in this world. The earth, love, life..." he trailed off in a dreamily sigh, staring lovingly at his cigar.

"Piero," I called, clicking my fingers in front of his eyes, waking him from his dream.

"Sorry," he said, blinking, "anyway. Every good gangster loves his cigars. Eagle will see that your one of them if you love them too."

"Just by smoking a cigar, he will think I'm a gangster?" I questioned in disbelief.

He nodded, "I never said it wasn't ridiculous."

I huffed, seeing only one way through this. Opening up the plastic, I held the cigar between my index and middle finger.

"What are you doing?" Piero frowned, "it's not a cigarette. Hold it between your thumb and your index finger."

I frowned, but did as he told me.

"Okay, first clip your cigar," Piero instructed, handing me some sort of clipping device.

"What is this?" I asked, looking at it.

It was an egg shape with a hole in the bigger end that housed a blade.

"It's a cigar cutter."

I couldn't help but look at him in a get serious way.

"Don't look at me like that, cut your cigar," he ordered.

I rolled my eyes but suck the tip into the hole and cut the end in a quick strong motion.

"Good, perhaps there's hope for you after all," Piero praised in his own way, "okay, Patrick will have a lighter tonight. So if your offered a cigar, turn to him and he'll light it for you. It'll be incredibly sexy."

"This goes back to the whole look thing, right?" I questioned, feeling like we were getting ready to do a school musical, practicing our parts.

"Right. Now are you ready?" He asked, holding out the lighter he got from his pocket.

I nodded, keeping the cigar away from me so that he didn't burn me by mistake. Piero held the little flame just under the tip.

"Spin it around," he told me, burning the edge till it glowed orange, "see that orange, that means it's ready, okay?"

I nodded, still not putting it near my lips. He repeated his steps to his own cigar before putting the lighter on the bar.

"Okay, now puff. Don't inhale," Piero warned.

I nodded, placing the cigar to my lips. Puff, don't inhale. Puff don't -

Smoke filled my throat cutting off my breathing. I choked, coughing as the smoke filled my lungs.

"I said don't inhale," Piero cried.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, massaging my neck, "I don't know how to puff."

"Oh, right," he sighed, shaking his head disappointedly, "how Patrick can sleep with you, I will never know."

"Ah, because of these," I reminded him, squeezing my breast with my free hand.

"Mmm, true," Piero agreed, making me giggle, "okay, suck on it like your sucking a straw. You can let the smoke into your mouth but than let it out. Don't inhale."

"Right," I breathed, willing to try again.

This time, I took Piero's advice. I sucked on the end, watching at the tip burned as smoke filled my mouth. Taking the cigar from my mouth I breathed out the smoke, feeling a smile spread on my face.

"Good work," Piero praised, "very hot."

"Thank you, thank you very much," I weezed, still not use to the fuzzy feeling in the back of my throat.

Piero puffed like it was nothing, dropping his head back and sighing as smoke escaped his lips.

As we smoked I couldn't help but think about his story. How could a man that had been put through what he has still be able to get up in the morning? Every instinct inside of me, told me not to ask but I just couldn't shut my mouth.

"Nickola told me about your story," I stated, firstly.

He nodded, "Patrick mentioned. I was actually counting down the minutes till you said something. Fifteen minutes, quite disappointing."

I giggled, shaking my head. I was growing use to his dry humour.

"Is it hard for you?" I asked him, "to be in a house, surrounded men like the one, that...did that."

"Well, there's two answers to that question. One, Patrick and the others aren't like...him. So in that expect, no it's not hard for me. And I guess it's the same as when a girl gets...you know, but she starts dating someone. She doesn't want to feel scared when he touches her but there's always, something, that makes her remember," he explained.

I couldn't pretend like I knew what he was talking about. But I tried to sympathise just the same.

"Have you dated guys since?" I asked, now interested.

"Not dated. Seen," he corrected, "I don't like getting close to people."

"Because of what happened," I stated, not really asking but understanding.

"No, because of my job," he corrected again, "I owe my life to Patrick so of course I'll do anything to protect him. But at the end of the day, I'm putting my life on the line. I don't want to burden anyone with living a life where their husband might not come home."

I nodded, at least understanding that. It was the same reason why Zoey refused to date any man related to this world. She had to live with that worry, always afraid that her father might not come home.

Changing the topic to a lighter note, I asked, "I don't have to be worried do I? Your not going to try and steal my husband from me, are you?"

He snorted, shaking his head, "no, Patrick is quite safe. He's not my type."

"What is your type?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "I don't know. Definitely someone who knows how to smoke a cigar."

I giggled, nodding, "definitely."

Knock, knock

Our heads shot towards the door and found Patrick standing there looking at us.

"Am I interrupting?" He asked.

"Nope, we're done. She can smoke a cigar," Piero told him, proud of what he had accomplished.

"Good. Zoey's here," Patrick stated, now to me.

"Oh," I said, handing Piero the cigar before pacing out of the room.

I found Zoey in my room, hanging up a dress bag. It was only now that I realized that so much had happened since I last saw her. She didn't even know that Patrick and I were sleeping together.

"Hey," I called, shutting the door.

"Hey," she almost yelled, having this new found energy, "okay, so I have a million ideas for your hair and I know I spent like half the day looking but I found the perfect dress for you."

I nodded and smiled, so grateful for her through all of this. I had just wished I had done the same.

"Lizzy, what's wrong?" She asked, cupping my shoulders, "what has Patrick done?"

"Nothing," I told her, making her frown, "we're sleeping together, actually."

She gasped, "what? When?"

"The day I woke up after Pappa died," I answered, watching her face drop.

"That was almost a week ago," she stated, making the connections in her head.

I nodded, "there's just been so many things that has happened. Taking over Pappa's business -."

"Do you love him?" Zoey stopped me, not caring about my excuses.

I froze at the question. It wasn't one that I had asked myself because Patrick had refused me too. It was too early to tell if it was love that I felt for him. So, I decided to ask myself a different question. Do I have feelings for him? The truth was, I couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was only a chemical thing between us. Just a sexual connection between us. I knew that Patrick would probably say that's all we had. But the way I felt around him couldn't be ignored. I felt safe around him and comfortable. Which was a lot considering how I felt towards him when we first met.

"I don't know. I definitely have feelings for him. But I think it's too soon for love," I finally confessed, watching her nod with understanding.

"You know, it's never too early for love," Zoey told me, taking my hand.

This was one of the only times that she had been serious with me when it came to guys. She had always turned it into a joke, but now wasn't the time.

"So, your not angry that I didn't tell you right away?" I asked her.

She scoffed, "well of course I am."

I couldn't help but giggle, recognising my friend.

"But I'm also really happy for you," she told me, wrapping her arms around me, "through everything that you have been through these past couple of weeks, you deserve some happiness. Even if it's from an ass like Patrick."

I snorted, hugging her tighter, "thanks, Zo. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Well, you wouldn't be getting your hair done for a start," she pointed out, letting go of me and pushing me towards my dresser, "now, let's get started."