It's the night before the wedding and I know I've fucked up, but I don't care. I'm meant to hate her, I don't need to care about her feelings because I. Hate. Her. And she hates me too. But I just can't help the small amount of guilt I'm feeling from the shit I've done to her. Fucking the wedding planner being one of them.

I mean, first of all, I didn't even know that the bitch was the wedding planner, I thought she was one of the whores I paid to come here so I can release some angry energy. Second of all, I didn't even cum, I couldn't even come close to cumming because she kept making over exaggerated noises, and my mind kept wandering back to a certain blonde-headed blue eyed assassin. Third of all, just as I was about to throw the bitch out, she opened the door and there she was, along with Amara. Ami looked pissed off, but the look on Amélie's face brought upon a twinge of disappointment within me. But moral of the story, I didn't mean to fuck the wedding planner, but I did. And I'm glad, because Amélie and I were getting a bit to close and friendly for two people who are meant to absolutely hate each other.

Anyways, tomorrow is the wedding and apparently, after having to coerce Amara to tell me - because everyone's still giving me the cold shoulder, Amélie has left the planning up to Liyana - her cousin - because she wants nothing to do with it. I mean fair enough.

I've noticed that ever since 3 days ago, when I went to pick Amélie up from the French mafia's base, I've noticed that she's been spending a lot more time there too. She even slept there last night. Which is strange because she hasn't stayed there ever since we signed the contract. Hm. I wonder what she's up to, with her mafia.

I'm currently in my office, looking over some potential missions and I come across the Russian mission. I came up with a plan after what happened to Amélie in the mall with that filthy Russian. I had one of my men hack into the Russian mafia's second-in-command's Calendar, and found out that he's going to be going to a strip club so I thought that, that could be a mission for Amélie and I. But I'll go over that with her another time.

For now, I'm going to get myself a drink to try and calm the anger down that I always get when dealing with the Russians. Especially recently, since Amélie almost got raped at the mall, by some random Russian asshole from their mafia. I mean, I know I'm a ruthless, arrogant fuck, but I would never and I mean never force myself onto a woman. That's something I'm very adamant about when lecturing my men too, I don't tolerate that bullshit. Considering the things that my father would do to my mother, I'd never wish that upon anyone.

Actually, fuck having a drink, I'll go to the basement instead, considering the demented motherfucker is still tied up there since he won't spill any information.

Making my way downstairs, I stop at the bottom of the stairs, overlooking the living room, it seems like Amara, Matteo, Christos, Liyana and Amélie are all watching a movie together. I can't lie, I've been kind of lonely these last couple of days since no one is talking to me, but I dug my own grave and now I must lay in it. Ridding my head of those thoughts, I continue walking past them and finally make my way to the torturing chambers at the end of my basement.

When I get there, the guards all bow their heads at me and someone opens the door for me. I walk in, finding Amélie's sexual assaulter - who's name I found out to be Leonid - chained to a chair with his head hanging downwards, as if he's unconscious. I call my for my men and order them to get me a bucket of ice cold water. Once my men got that for me, I told them to go ahead and dump the whole thing on him. As soon as the water made contact with his body, Leonid jolts awake and his eyes widen once they see me. He knows that it's time for his daily torturing. But what he doesn't know is that, this will be the last and worst time I torture him, regardless of whether or not he gives me insider information about the Russian's, so far I've been light with my torturing, only things like: stabbing him a couple times, ripping his nails out and feeding them to him. Simple things really.

"I won't tell you anything!" He shouts out, his thick Russian accent lacing his words.

"Relax," I tell him, feeling accomplished by the slump of his shoulders in relief "I'm going to kill you anyways" I finish, sinisterly.

His eyes shoot up to mine and his head begins to shake left and right as his body trembles. "Пожалуйста. Я ничего не знаю! Просто отпусти меня, и я никому не скажу ни слова об этом [Please. I don't know anything! Just let me go and I won't say a word to anyone about this]." He screams.

"You see," I begin, "I'm starting to get really bored of this whole 'Я ничего не знаю! [I don't know anything!] act. It's getting repetitive. You don't want to say shit, that's fine, I'll just have to kill you, no big deal." I say as I walk towards the table that holds all the torture weapons.

As he keeps repeating 'Пожалуйста [please]' in a terrified tone. I decide that I'll chop his fingers off first and shove them feed them to him. Which I do, and he ends up spitting it out. So, then I move onto his ears and rip them off too. To which he screams in agony, bringing me joy. He forced himself onto a woman, the same way my father forced himself onto my mother and made me watch.

I can't take this anymore, I order for my guards to stand him up and I go and grab a flamethrower. I go back over to where my men have stood Leonid up and light up my flamethrower.

Just as I'm about to slowly melt his dick off, he begins rambling information "Он планирует похитить ее и взять на свое кольцо. Он хочет, чтобы она была его, и он не остановится, пока она не остановится. [He's planning to kidnap her and take her into his ring. He wants her to be his, and he won't stop until she is.]" he says, crying in agony.

Ring? Oh God, as in his sex trafficking ring- I'm going to be sick. "Who!" I demand

"Vincent Basilio." As soon as he said that, my heart dropped. I started up the flamethrower again and began melting his dick, gritting my teeth whilst doing so. He's planning to kidnap her and take her into his ring. He wants her to be his, and he won't stop until she is. FUCK ME! I knew I should have killed him years ago.

After I finish melting his dick off, I pull out my gun and point it right at his heart. Placing my finger on the trigger, I get ready to shoot him, but before I can do that, he whispers "Он работает не один [He's not working alone]."

With that, I shoot him in the heart, allowing what he had just said to fully process in my mind. He's planning to kidnap her and take her into his ring. He wants her to be his, and he won't stop until she is. Vincent Basilio. His name keeps ringing in my head as does Leonid's admission.

Vincent Basilio, the epitome of my self-hatred, negative thoughts and overall attitudes and behaviours in certain situations. I act the way I do because I've never had a decent father to look up to. My father forced me to kill someone at the age of 8, made me watch him beat and rape my mother my whole life as well as guilt tripping me into taking beatings for my mother too - which I didn't mind, 5-year-old me just wanted my mama to be happy and not get hurt by the person who was meant to love her and whom she loved - he also taught me that I must kill and force my way into this life, whether I liked it or not.

By the time I've zoned out of my downward spiral, I realise that my breaths are choppy and hard to control, one hand flies to my chest, palming the place right over my heart trying to ease the ache that my past brings, whilst the other hand goes up to my hair, gripping it for dear life, trying to find something stable to hold on to. I slump against the wall and drop to the floor, rocking back and forth, my head shaking from left to right, trying to rid my head of the flashbacks I'm getting. My attempts are futile as I get choked up even more.

Suddenly, I hear the steel basement door open and shut as it echoes in the hallway of the torture chambers as well as my uneven breathing. I hear soft footsteps patter against the concrete floors as someone makes their ways towards me. That flowery perfume smells familiar, if I focus on that, my heart seems to calm down a bit.

I feel small arms circle my shoulders as a hand guides my head into the crook of someone's neck. After a choppy intake of air, her sweet, flowery perfume infiltrates my nose and begins to soothe my mind. I hear her whisper sweet nothings into my ear reassuring me that I'm okay whilst one of her soft, warm hands rake through my hair and the other rubs my back up and down endearingly, bringing me back to a regulated breathing pattern. I didn't even realise that during her efforts to calm to down, I had pulled her into my lap and now I was cuddling up to her.

When I'm somewhat back to normal, I take one last inhale of her comforting scent and I slightly pull my head out of the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry" I whisper out, furrowing my brows at the disappointment and embarrassment I feel because of the fact that I couldn't control my PTSD, panic attack.

She pushes a couple strands of my hair back, smoothing out my furrowed eyebrows whilst looking into my eyes sincerely, "it's okay Rome. It's happens to the best of us." She whispers back, trying to make me feel better.

Normally, after I have my panic attacks, which is not often because I can normally prevent them so well, I enter this state of numbness. I tend to just lay in bed because normal activities hold no interest to me, I lack motivation, I don't have the energy etc.

But when Amélie stands up and reaches a hand out to me, I hesitantly take it and clasp onto her hand like it's my last lifeline. As she pulls me with her to the door of the basement, I slightly tug on her arm, causing her to turn around. With and emotionless face, I shake my head no, indicating that I don't want to go out there if the rest of them are there.

As if she was reading my mind, Amélie's hand cautiously moves up to cradle my face and I subconsciously lean into her hand, " don't worry baby, no one is out there, it's just you and I, Angelo. I promise." The use of my middle name and the fact that she shoots me a reassuring smile, slightly eases my heart. So I nod, and allow her to take me onto the main level of the house, and, as promised, no one was there, it was just her and I.

She took me into my room and sat me down in the bed because during times like these, I tend to not be able to move, simply because I am in a state of mental instability and numbness that my body practically shuts down.

I think that mia Belleza picks up on this because after she sits me down on the bed, she goes into my walk-in-wardrobe and gets me a white muscle-tee and some grey jogging bottoms. When she places that down on the bed, she turns to look at me and says "listen Angelo, I know you hate me and we've established that the feeling is mutual but can we please put that aside and forget about it while I help you." She pleads.

I nod, not being able to talk as it feels as though there are 1000 weights laying upon my tongue.

She smiles happily and makes her way towards me, "now, do you think you'll be able to shower on your own?" She asks.

In reality, I know I won't be, but it's too embarrassing to be asking for her help in the shower. So I nod my head yes, but still remain seated because I can't walk away.

Now she's standing right in front of me, looking at me intently. She gently grabs my arm and loops it around her shoulders, then she circles her arm around my torso, helping me up. She makes her way to the bathroom, with me clinging onto her.

When we make it to the bathroom, she sits me down on the closed toilet seat and asks "is it okay if I take your clothes off for you?"

She's going to help me. I thought she hated me.

I nod my head and she reaches for my shirt which is tucked into my slacks. She untucks it and begins unbuttoning my shirt. When she's done doing that, she slides the shirt off of my shoulders and down my arms. Then she unbuckles my belt and stands me up to pull my slacks down. We make our way to the shower and stand in there together, she look up at me as if to see if I'm still okay with her helping me. God, it's more than okay, she's the only person that's helped and understood something like this. "It's okay if you don't feel comfortable, I'll understand." She says, her voice smooth and silky.

I nod my head yes in hopes of her understanding how deeply desperate I am for a shoulder to lean on and help me. "Is it okay if I take my pyjama top and bottoms off if I'm coming in the shower with you? You'll still be comfortable?" She asks, worry lacing her tone.

I nod my head yes, as long as she's comfortable helping me in a state like this, I don't care what she asks for, I'll always say yes. When she's taken her clothes off, she quickly grabs a towel from the cabinet and puts it on the heated towel rack. She comes back into the shower, she turns the water on and moves towards me.

I feel like I'm about to burst into tears. Amélie must realise this because she moves closer to me and gingerly lifts her arms to wrap around my shoulders, and brings my head to the crook of her neck. I don't know if that's what set me off, or if everything that mentally happened to me set me off, but I just start crying. I let it all out whilst Amélie holds me, raking her hand through my hair. We stand under the shower head for quite some time, me, sobbing in agony and her, holding me and often leaving light pecks on my temple - three each time - and tightening her hold on me often. When I finish up crying, belleza tries to pull my head out of the crook of her neck, but I refuse to let her see me like this.

she must think I'm a weak little bitch.

"Rome. It's okay baby, it's okay, I won't judge you. I just want to help you wash up." She whispers softly.

Normally after I cry and let out my tears, I slowly begin regaining my ability to speak and move. My movement takes a bit longer to regain but my speech comes quicker however it's mostly made up of whispers. So I pull my head out of the crook of her neck hesitantly, and I see a grateful, proud smile on Amélie's face, God I'd do anything to see that smile everyday. "Okay." I whisper to her.

She grabs my loofah, and smothers it in body wash, then she begins cleaning my body. When she's done, she washes me off and grabs a towel for herself from the cabinet and she wraps the towel that was on the heated towel rack, around me. Then she brings my arm to circle her shoulders. She quickly brushed both of our teeth and then she walks us to the bed and leaves me standing there whilst she grabs the clothes she set down on the bed earlier. She walks up to me and her beautiful ocean-blue eyes flit up to mine. "Is it's okay if I dress you? I'll have to take your boxers off too, it's okay if you don't feel comfortable I can call someone else to help you-."

I cut of her rambling "it's okay." I whisper.

She looks up at me unsurely and I nod my head reassuringly. She unwraps my towel from around my waist and pulls my boxers down, averting her gaze else where to make me more comfortable. Then she quickly uses the towel to dry my body off and gets the new pair of boxers and slides them on as well as my grey jogging bottoms. Just as she's about put my shirt on, I shake my head no and she asks "you don't sleep with a shirt on?" I shake my head no again and she nods, putting my top aside.

She looks up at me, asking "is it okay if I quickly run to my room and get something to wear?"

"Wear mine" I whisper.

"I mean, I can wear one of your shirts but I still need underwear." She humorously argues.

"My boxers." I whisper back.

"What about my bra?" She says, slightly chuckling.

"Go without it." I whisper back at her.

She just smiles, picking up the top that I was meant to wear and walks into the walk-in-wardrobe. When she comes back out, she's wearing my top and my boxers, nothing else, nothing more, and fuck me if she doesn't look beautiful. She's a sight for sore eyes.

She makes her way over to me and lays me down on the bed, covering me with the sheets, getting ready to leave. Before she can go, I whisper "Stay. Please."

She turns around and stares at me for, one second, two sec- she nods her head and makes her way back towards me.

When she gets in, she sticks to the edge of the bed, making me furrow my eyebrows "come closer baby" I whisper out to her.

She looks at me, shifting closer, "this okay?" She whispers back, concerned.

I shake my head no, "closer." I whisper.

When she comes closer I put all my effort into moving my arms and encircle her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to me. We lay there in silence, silently, until I hear sniffling coming from beside me and I feel Amélie tremble slightly. I look down and see tears pouring out of Amélie's eyes. "What's wrong? Do you not feel comfortable?" I whisper.

She shakes her head no, "it's not that" I look at her confusedly "it's just- have you always been struggling with this?" She asks sincerely.

I nod my head yes "ever since I was 5 years old" I whisper back "my mama used to help me when I was younger, but after she died.." I shrug my shoulders.

My admission makes amore cry harder, which makes my heart squeeze in agony "so you've been alone with this for quite a while?" She cry's out, I nod my head and she shuts her eyes "I'm so sorry you've had to be alone this whole time, I'm here now baby, please don't forget that. You'll never be alone again." She says, wrapping her arms around my neck and embracing me into a tight hug.

I kiss her shoulder 3 times and let us stay in the position for a little while longer before I pull back, our foreheads connecting. "Thank you amore" I whisper to her. I leave 3 kisses on her forehead, before pulling back and leaving 3 kisses on each of her eyelids. "Don't cry for me, mia belleza, it's hurts my heart to see you cry." I whisper to her.

She simply nods her head and snuggles up to me more, whispering "Goodnight Rome." To which I reply with a "Goodnight mia belleza" leaving 3 final kisses on her forehead, before darkness welcomes me.

It's our wedding tomorrow, I hope everything goes smoothly.