As Zoey did my hair, I got a sense of déjà vu. It like I was back at the very beginning, sitting in my bedroom, sharing at the girl in the mirror.

She was still beautiful and her skin still had that natural glow. But she was no longer the small, scared little princess, about to marry a stranger. She was a queen, that was growing stronger by every minute and stood by her king.

My eyes were painted with glittery, brown that gave an earthy look to my face. My lips were a lighter shade and my cheeks looked soft under the powder. Zoey had truly missed her calling to become a hair dresser. My hair was pulled to the side and held by a flowery, diamond pin before it curled over my shoulders. Diamond earrings hung from my ears, almost displaying the wealth that Patrick and I shared. Piero had spoken about looking the part. Well, I sure looked it now.

"Eagle will be very impressed," I stated, more to myself, as I looked at the queen in the mirror.

"Stuff Eagle. Patrick's going to have a heart attack," Zoey gushed, fixing up a few strands here and there, "Are you ready for the dress?"

I nodded, my heart leaping with excitement. I trusted Zoey with my life but I trusted her with my wardrobe more.

I stood from my stool and walked over to the wardrobe door where the dress bag hung. She unzipped it for me, revealing the white formal dress. A gasp escaped my lips as I looked upon it, amazed that Zoey could find one this good in a day.

"Your amazing Zoey," I praised in astonishment.

"I know," she shrugged, like it was nothing.

I giggled, running my hands over the soft chiffon.

"Stop looking at it and try it on," Zoey ordered, taking the dress from the bag and shoving it into my hands, "If you don't get dressed now, you'll be late."

I nodded, not hiding my nervous smile as Zoey skipped out of the room. Okay, Lizzy, just breathe, I told myself, be the queen.

The dress was beautiful. It was strapless but supported my breasts, even plumping them up a bit. Down the left side were silver beads in a decorative flowery pattern. Starting from my upper thigh was a slit in the dress adding a bit of sex appeal that I bet Zoey just couldn't resist. Strapped, silver heels dressed my feet, giving me height that would make Patrick and I almost level. I couldn't pretend that wasn't important for me. If Patrick wanted to dress me up and build me into his queen, then we had to be at least sitting on the same level.

"Lizzy!" Zoey groaned on the other side of the door, "Are you dressed yet or what?"

"You can come in," I laughed, watching as the door bursted opened.

"Oh," she awed, cupping her hand over her mouth, "You look so beautiful. God, I should be in fashion or something."

I giggled, blushing under her eyes.

"Please, stay tonight," I begged, taking her arms.

"Sure, baby. But I can't stay. Some people have to work in the morning," she reminded me, tapping my nose before taking my hand, "Now, come on. Patrick's waiting."

The very thought caused my heart to leap into my throat. God, what will Patrick say when he sees me?

I froze at the top of the stair case, finding the boys at the bottom. Alberto and Piero were the only ones in tuxedos. And of course Patrick. God, he did look good in a tux. His hair was combed and he had kept the stubbles on his chin. He looked the same from that day in the church, but something was different. There was a smile on his lips and a hint of light in his eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, I started my descent. The boys heard the clicking of my heels on the tiled steps.

The look Patrick gave me, I couldn't describe. I had often thought that whenever he looked at me, it was always in affection and care but not love. But this time, this time it could be.

"Alberto and Piero, go see if the cars are ready," Patrick ordered, not breaking my gaze, "And I think dinner's ready for the rest of you."

The others snickered before leaving us alone and heading into the dining room.

"You chased them away," I teased, finally reaching him at the bottom of the stairs.

"They wouldn't want to hear what I have to say," he confessed, taking my shaking hand.

I waited to hear it, but he remained silent looking over my body and face.

"You look..."

"Beautiful, magnificent, lovely –."

"Like a queen," he finished, making my heart stop under his burning gaze, "Come with me."

I had no choice. Patrick led me up the stairs again and straight into his office.

I had no idea what he was doing but I did know something.

"Patrick, shouldn't we be going. I doubt Eagle likes to be kept waiting," I pointed out, shutting the door behind us.

"I'll be five minutes," he told me, pacing over to his desk and opening up the draw, "I want to give you something."

"What?" I asked, moving over to him.

Air filled my chest at the thought. What could Patrick want to give me that he hasn't already?

I froze when Patrick placed a thirty-two revolver into the palm of my hand. He couldn't be serious?

"What do you think –?"

"It's just a persecution," he told me, "the casino will be filled with guys that will want to harm you. I'll be less paranoid if I know that you at least have the means to protect yourself."

"I get it, Patrick," I swallowed slipping the gun into my white clutch, "you would think that I didn't even own the place."

He snorted, clearly seeing my frustration. I owned the damn casino and I was the one being summoned and I was the one that had to carry a weapon for my protection. And something else.

"What?" Patrick asked, a smirk appearing on his face when he realized that something else was annoying me.

"Nothing, it's just I thought the first gift my husband would give me would be jewellery, not a gun," I admitted with a sad, self-pitied giggle.

Patrick chuckled before cupping my neck and bringing my lips to his. He sucked on my bottom lip, giving me the thing I craved. Him

He let go, leaving us breathless in his embrace.

"Well," he breathed, "I do have something else."

I frowned, taking a step back and watching as his hand reached into the draw and pulled out a black velvet box. My mouth dropped as my heart leaped into my throat. What the hell was he doing? A small moan escaped my lips when he opened it, revealing a simple white carat diamond that sat on top of a silver band.

"It was my mother's," he explained, taking it from the box before taking my left hand, "It's the only thing I have left of her. It's one of my most cherished possessions."

"I understand," I croaked, as a lump the size of a golf ball formed in my throat as my hand clasped over the blue diamond that hung from my neck, "It was my mother's too. It's the only thing I have left of her too."

"You wore it at the wedding," he stated, "and you always have it around your neck."

I nodded, smiling a sad smile.

He sighed, breaking me out of my sadness, "I know our story isn't perfect. It's not filled with cliché moments or the traditional courtship."

I felt tears slowly fill my eyes as he slid the ring onto my left ring-finger.

"So let's pretend, just for a moment that it was," Patrick suggested, "That I took you to some romantic restaurant and we danced to our favourite songs. Then we walked the streets, under stars, reliving memories of the day we first met. And then I would take you back to our home and lead you into our bedroom where I had filled the room with roses. And on the pillow, there, it'll be."

I couldn't help but fall into his arms, exhausted with the pleasant thought. My heart pounded, not just from the thought but from Patrick's ability to think of it. I would love to think that he just came up with it on the spot but the detail he put into it told me that he had thought about it. And if he could think about something that was so sweet and romantic, then maybe there was hope for him after all.

"You know, at the wedding, I thought you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen," he breathed, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked, "I kept waiting for you to say something."

"Well, I don't have that gift that some people process to talk with strangers, let alone very pretty ones."

I scoffed, shaking my head, "That's a lie. You've done a lot more than talk to pretty strangers."

I didn't want to reopen a fight, but it was fact. Patrick had slept with plenty of strangers.

"They're different. Sex..." he sighed, "Sex was just a simple action to get me through the day."

"And with me?" I questioned him, leaning forward into his arms.

"With you..." he sighed again, "It's an addiction that even the most in control of men – including myself, can't rid themselves of. Not that I want to be rid of you."

"Good," I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck, "Because you're not getting rid of me any time soon."

"Oh well this is awkward."

I frowned, when I heard a man's voice but it didn't come from Patrick. Our head's shot towards the door and found Alberto in the doorway.

"Garrick said that he finds interrupting you guys very amusing but I don't see it," he stated, though the cocky look on his face told a different story, "We should really be leaving. Unless –."

"We're coming now," Patrick growled, taking my hand and leading me out of the study.

My mouth dropped at the sight of the large building that I owned. It was huge. It was a four story square building, its pillars lit up by lamps. The large windows were alive with light shining from them, telling me that we were not the only people the were here tonight.

"Are you ready for this?" Patrick asked me as the car slowly pulled to a stop.

I sighed, not sure if I was, "I'll have to be, won't I?"

He smiled sadly at me, seeing how much I didn't want to do this. He cupped my cheek and brushed under my eye with his thumb. It brought a small smile on my face as I thought about his confession earlier and the new ring that sat safely above my wedding ring.

"Be the Queen, Eliza," he told me, "and you won't fail."

I took in a deep breath and nodded, trying to seek reassurance from his words. Be the queen and you won't fail. Simple, right?

The valet opened up the door for me and offered me his hand. I took it and stepped out of the black limo, feeling immediately the soft breeze touch my bare skin. It seemed to relax me when nothing could.

Patrick joined me outside the casino with Alberto and Piero.

"Still got the..?" Patrick asked, looking down at my clutch purse that I held tight to my body.

I nodded, knowing he was talking about the gun.

"Yep, still in there," I told him, trying to hide the nerves the was so clearly shown.

He smiled, taking ahold of my hip and leading me inside.

Butlers opened the doors for us to the huge foyer that was bordered by oval doors way into another large room. It was filled with poker machines that people swarmed too. Red carpet spread for miles and there were decorative feather pieces that looked as if they were from the twenties.

"What do you want to do first?" I asked Patrick making him frown, "we're here to see Eagle but why can't we have some fun before hand."

"I wouldn't mind having a game or two," Alberto backed me up.

Patrick groaned, already seeing he had lost on this. Half turning my body Patrick gestured to the elevator that stood out from the red and yellow patterned wall. Patrick's hand was safety panted on my hip, not allowing me to stray no more than two feet from his side. I didn't know what feared him the most. The people gambling away their money as alcohol slowly consumed their bodies or the Chinese security guards that jackets seemed to be too full for my comfort.

It broke my heart to see my father's casino so tightly under someone else's control. Eagle more than just managed the place.

The elevator opened to a large room, once again that was dotted with gaming tables. More feather pieces were decorated around the room and the carpet remained the bloody red.

Across the room was a bar that was not on the floor below. The need to calm my nerves suddenly rose inside of me and I needed a drink.

With Patrick still latched tightly on my hip, I led him to the bar.

The bartender smiled when he spotted me coming. He couldn't be much older than myself but he had the alcohol.

"Scotch, neat, please," I demanded placing my clutch gently on the bar knowing the weapon it held.

"What exactly are you doing?" Patrick asked me with a frown, "your about to play Eagle. You have to be sober. Not drunk."

"Just one drink," I begged of him, "I've been learning a lot today but there was something I learnt from you a month ago."

"And what's that?" He asked lightly, willing to be proved wrong.

"That business partners are at their friendliest when alcohol's involved," I said reminding him of the time I found him at the bar with Harald Balboni.

He snickered almost amused as the bartender sat my drink down in front of me. Just as I went to take it, Patrick snatched it, sipping at the liquid with a cocky grin on his face. My mouth dropped, amazed that he had tricked me once again.

"I'm not letting my wife go to the devil with her head not screwed on straight," he told me, saying that word that always seemed to be coated with mockery.

All I could do was snicker as he did, shaking my head.

"Not even one sip," I begged.

He shock his head, "not one."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

Unbelievable. We stood in comfortable silence as we waited for something to happen. Alberto was already at a gaming table, playing what I thought was blackjack. Piero was behind him, snickering at his misery. Patrick remained looking at me, admiring me with his sharp eyes.

As I looked around, I couldn't help but think how far I had come. All because of Patrick. My head went straight back to the weeks where I couldn't get out of bed and how Patrick had unmercifully pushed.

He had pushed. I had never questioned it before. But he had been so defiant when Oscar had ordered him to get me out of bed. It could have been more than a week before he was ordering the same words for himself.

"Why did you push?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

When Patrick frowned, I added, "when I wouldn't get out of bed, you forced me to get up. Why?"

"You don't like that I did?" He asked, making his frown deepen.

"Not at all. I would still be in bed if it wasn't for you," I confessed, making him snort, "but why? I mean, Oscar pretty much demanded it but you refused. But then you did it anyway a couple days later -."

"Perhaps, I just like arguing with my father," he joked, trying to avoid the question.

"Perhaps," I agreed, taking his fingers in mine, "but then, why did you make Alberto and Antonio talk to me?"

Patrick grunted in frustration, realizing that he was trapped. The more he protested the more I realized something else. His reason was personal. He still didn't trust me? Or at least struggled to.

"Patrick," I egged on, "you can trust me. Why won't you tell me?"

He sighed, his hand taking a hold of mine. His soft fingertips, traced the lines that indented my palm as the simple touch relaxed me.

"I pushed because I knew that you couldn't stay in that bed all your life. And your businesses did need you," he stated first, getting the offical reasons out of the way before he told me the personal one, "the other reason is because of how I wanted our marriage to be."

I frowned, taking a step closer to him, "what do you mean?"

He shrugged, "to be honest with you, I had never pictured myself with a weak wife. So, when we married, I had hoped that we could eventually be equals. Me, running my empire and you running your own."

"Really?" I questioned, "you didn't have that attitude when we first met."

He nodded, biting his lip and half closing his eyes in shame.

"I deserve that. But like I said, I don't have that power that some possess. I didn't know how to talk to you like you were a person. I'm use to giving orders, admittedly it's the only way I knew how to communicate," he confessed, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles.

I smiled, knowing that it was his way of affection and a way he seemed to make me feel better after kind of insulting me.

"So what changed?" I asked him.

He shrugged again, "your father died and his empire was yours. As much as my father would have loved me to take over and control everything for you, that's not the marriage that I wanted."

All I could do was smile. Once there was a time where I thought Patrick was exactly like his father. Cruel, heartless, deceitful. But Patrick wasn't. He was honest, protective and cared for his men and for me than either of us realized.

Not caring that people surrounded us, I cupped his cheek and leaned into him. Our teasing, my questions fell away and a sense of seriousness consumed us. My fingers drifted down to his chin, bringing his lips closer to mine.

"Ah, why isn't it the beautiful Maestris?"

We broke apart at the sound of Eagle's cry and found him in front of three security guards. Ones I recognised from our meeting in the basement. Immediately, Alberto and Piero were at our side, so we weren't so vulnerable to Eagle. Not that I felt in danger. Even in front of Eagle, Patrick's hand did not move an inch from my hip keeping me close to his body.

"Ah, such a beautiful couple. The Yin and the Yang," he praised, gesturing to Patrick and I, "Patrick, come on now. Release your wife. She is safe here, I assure you."