Cee barely slept.

It was the feeling of being watched, of being observed like some alien experiment, that made her shiver. Sure, her father had kept watch on her while she was away from home, she knew that. She had a target on her back. But those men watched her to keep her safe. The Romanos were watching her to make sure she was trapped.

She felt like a fly under a microscope. That's all she was to them: an insect, a nuisance. Or maybe a fly in a web, surrounded by security cameras.

Maybe she would die here. Her father certainly wouldn't fight a war for her. Not against the Romanos.

"Miss Fiero?" Two light knocks on the door. "I have a breakfast tray for you, Miss, may I have permission to enter?"

"May I have permission to leave?" Cee muttered under her breath. "Yes, come in." A young woman walked in, balancing a laden tray on one arm and holding several hangers with the other.

"Toast, scrambled eggs, coffee, Miss Fiero." The woman balanced the tray carefully on the bedside table. "And I have some clothes, Miss Fiero, sent from your family." Cee didn't miss the slight bite in her voice at the mention of the Fiero family.

"You can call me Cee," she told the girl, "I'm not a proper Fiero." The girl nodded her head respectfully, refusing to meet her eye.

"It's what Mr Romano told us all to call you, Miss Fiero."

"Mr Romano doesn't have to know." The girl frowned, her eyes flicking from side to side to check they hadn't been overheard. "What's your name?"

"Florence, Miss Fiero, but everyone calls me Flo."

"Everyone calls me Cee," she forced a smile to Flo, "please. I won't tell." The girl shook her head sharply, backing away.

"Sorry, Miss Fiero. I won't disobey orders." Cee sighed as the girl practically sprinted away, not forgetting to lock the door again. So much for making friends.

She nibbled at the toast. Coffee wasn't her drink of choice, made her anxious. If she needed caffeine, Red Bull would help her get through her early morning classes.

The clothes were comforting though. They smelled like home, a soft smell of washing detergent and vanilla.

"Miss Fiero?" It was a different voice this time, a man's. "May I have permission to enter?" Cee frowned at the phrase Flo had used earlier. Perhaps it was a custom the Romanos had.

"Yes," she called, her voice slightly too soft. A young man entered the room. He was dressed smartly, like a lawyer in a city firm, or a banker, but without a tie or jacket. Cee eyed him suspiciously, recognising him from last night suddenly.

"Miss Fiero." Luca crossed the room in two paces, bending his head formally and smiling. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Please, call me Cee," she smiled softly. He had the Romano curls; floppy, wild, dark corkscrew curls. It made him seem younger, more innocent somehow, despite the family name.

"Cee," he agreed. "If you would allow me, I'd like to show you the house, and possibly grounds, of my family home." Nothing was phrased as a question. Mafia families never liked to offer anything - they stated things, waiting for acceptance. His voice had just the tinge of the true Italian accent: perhaps he had once lived there, unlike Cee. She'd only visited her grandparents once or twice, while they were alive.

"I'd love that," she smiled genuinely, "I didn't expect to be allowed out of this room for the next two months." Luca grinned.

"We cannot lock you up here forever, Miss F- Cee." He noticed her untouched breakfast. "Was there a problem with your breakfast? Would you like something else? Porridge? A cooked breakfast?" Cee shook her head.

"No, no, I just - I wasn't particularly hungry. And I'm not a great fan of coffee."

"Would you prefer something else with your breakfast tomorrow? Tea, perhaps?"

"Hot chocolate?" The request escaped her lips before she'd even fully realised the thought.

"Hot chocolate it is, Cee." He laughed. "You have a sweet tooth."

"It's my greatest weakness," she admitted.

"Please," Luca gestured towards the door. As she passed him, he whispered, "If you make friends with the kitchen, they'll bring you snacks at night."

---

Luca was pleasant, keeping the conversation light and flowing as he showed Cee the first floor and second floor, the dining room (which was spectacular), and the separate meeting rooms.

"Most business is on the third floor," Luca mentioned casually, "but you won't ever have to be up there, hopefully." Cee's bedroom was the second floor, just below the boss's office apparently.

The various living rooms were all as ostentatious, fancy and stunning as one would expect from the home of one of the largest Mafia families in the world, each with a roaring fireplace and comfy sofas and oil paintings of rich old men. The Fieros were nothing like this: they were new money, profiting from exploiting women in sex trafficking - they had no family homes like this. They had modern apartments, flats, in the cities, not stately homes in the middle of nowhere.

"And here," Luca gestured, "is the medical wing." It was just off the kitchen, and through the glass, Cee could make out the figures of several men lying in hospital beds, wrapped in bandages.

"What happened?" she asked, leaning closer to the glass. The men were unnaturally still, barely breathing. "Explosion," Luca said dismissively, "it was dealt with." He turned away, and was about to continue the tour, before he turned back to Cee with a curious look on his face. "Don't ask questions like that in front of the boss."

"Questions like what?" she asked, facing him, her palm resting on the glass.

"About business. About personal life. Actually, just don't ask him questions."

"Why?" Cee couldn't help asking as she ran to catch up with Luca. He was striding towards the grand entrance, and she trailed behind. "He doesn't like being asked questions."

"Maybe he just doesn't know the answers," Cee muttered grumpily, half-joking.

"Cee." Her eyes widened at the serious tone of his voice. "It's not a joke." Luca, who before had made her laugh and lightened the atmosphere despite the whole kidnapping ransom idea, looked as though he was in pain. "My cousin doesn't play nice. Stay out of his way, if you can," he pleaded.

"Your cousin?" Luca nodded.

"He's dangerous, Cee, and he has an obsession with respect."

"I heard." She paused. "What's he like?" Luca tipped his head back, exhaling.

"You've met him, you tell me."

"The scary one?" Luca gave her an amused side look.

"The scary one," he agreed. "Definitely the scary one." Cee shivered.

With Luca, at that moment, she didn't feel in danger. She felt watched, yes, but in fairness Luca had a bodyguard or two following him at all times, as was common. Luca meant safety.

"Are you ready to see Niccolò?"

"You haven't shown me any of the grounds yet," Cee smiled, heart racing as she desperately tried to delay meeting the Romano Don once again.

He must have heard the panic in her voice, because he smiled reassuringly. "I'll be there the whole time, Miss- Cee. He won't hurt you, I promise."

Cee only looked at him, wondering if he knew what a promise meant to a Fiero. "I wouldn't risk breaking a promise to a Fiero," he added, reading her mind.

He led her back upstairs, to the third floor; knocked on the door. "Permission to enter?" he called through the door. Cee tried not to let her knees shake too obviously.

The door opened.

It was the boss, the Romano from yesterday. In the daylight, his chest seemed impossibly broader, his glare darker. Cee shrank away from him, her chocolate hair covering her face. She could feel him staring at her, before he stood aside, letting them both into the office.

"Miss Fiero."

He gestured impatiently to the small chair in front of his desk; he was mocking her. Ce knew it. He could smell her fear, taste it in the air. She was a dead man walking. She stared at the floor; polished wooden floorboards, so shiny she could make out a dark reflection in it. There was no carpet, of course. Carpets are hard to get blood stains out of.

"Miss Fiero," he repeated, his tone coldly amused, like a cat playing with a mouse. "I hope you're not ignoring me." His voice was so deep, nothing like Luca's. Luca was a young man, a teenager turned adult, cheerful tone, melodic. His was rough. Harsh.

"No," she mumbled, fighting the urge to sprint past him and hurl herself out of his open window. She could smell the pine in the air, drifting across the garden. So refined, yet so tainted. Cee risked a glance at his desk - the highest she dared raised her gaze. Unlike her father's desk, littered with paper and files, Mr Romano's desk was clean. Immaculate. Everything in this house had a purpose.

Except her.

"To ignore me would be a great disrespect." He took a step forward, watching how she flinched at his sudden movement. He was controlled; every move that he made was calculated and only hinted at his raw strength - she hated how her stomach fluttered.

She gritted her teeth, dropping her gaze from his chest to the floor; she couldn't help it. His shirt had been unbuttoned at the collar, hinting at his smooth tanned skin. "And I wouldn't tolerate it."

Cee nodded jerkily, feeling sick to her stomach. She wanted to go home.

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly, standing in front of her, towering over her. For a second, she hesitated; why was she there? She was there because her father asked, because she wanted to protect her sister - but something told her that he wouldn't like either of those answers.

"You're scaring her." Cee nearly jumped out of her skin, having forgotten that Luca was even in the room.

Facing off against his cousin, Cee could spot the resemblance. Both had the Romano curls, almost pitch black, although Luca managed to look small beside his cousin despite being around six foot himself. Cee couldn't bring herself to look the Romano Don in the eye, or even glance at his face. He was a dangerous man, his very presence scared her.

"I don't care." His deep voice rumbled with fury as he reached forward, gripping her chin tightly between his thumb and finger and jerking her head up. Cee flinched, glancing around like a skittish animal. "Answer me."

"My father asked me to," she mumbled, hating the way her heart was almost beating out of her chest. "To come instead of my sister." It was something about his touch on her skin - something about the faint smell of pine and mint and masculinity - she began to feel the throbbing pain at his tight grip.

"Let her go, Niccolò."

Cee stared at the floor as the Romano's leader struck Luca, hard, in the stomach, flinching at the sound of the body hitting the floor when he fell. "Stop questioning me," he replied flatly. "She may be a threat."

Cee traced the wood grain in the floorboards, desperately distracting her mind from the senseless violence. She wasn't scared of blood, otherwise she wouldn't want to qualify as a nurse, but god, did she hate violence. She hated this life, this world; the aggression was one of her reasons for leaving this part of her existence behind.

The Don hauled her forward a step, shaking her roughly; Cee felt tears rise to her eyes - not from pain, but fear. She snapped out of her haze, staring at the shiny leather of the shoes that had stopped in front of her. "Are you here to spy?"

Should she lie? Say yes to protect Luca? Or would that make it worse? She felt a vice-like grip on her chin, lifting her face up, and she screwed her eyes shut, refusing to look at him.

"Look at me." His voice was so cold, so deadly, that Cee nearly broke. She opened her eyes, hesitantly, focusing on the navy collar of his shirt. It was undone, almost casual. As if a cruel monster could seem human.

"I'm not here to spy," she whispered, feeling like she was about to die. Forget attractive - this man was a cold blooded killer.

"Niccolò, stop." The Don dropped her, turning on his cousin. Luca was kneeling, trying to force himself to his feet. "I made a promise that you wouldn't hurt her."

"You don't speak for me," he replied coldly after a pause, his fists clenched. Cee saw it coming before Luca did; she looked away.

The sound of flesh against skin, fist against face, cracked through the room like a gunshot. Blood dripped through Luca's fingers, pooled across the floor towards her, snaking towards her with a vengeance. This was your fault, it whispered, your fault.

Luca was hauled up, hunching slightly over his stomach, his face covered. Cee flinched with every jerk, with every sound, every movement, every breath that her captor took.

His lips brushed against her ear as he murmured, only to her. "This is your doing." Tears welled up in Cee's eyes. She was not a violent person. She wasn't cut out for this world: she wanted to go back to her flat, where all her house plants were, to go back to her classes and spend late nights in the library, qualifying as a nurse, to sleep in sheets that smelled like vanilla and washing detergent.

But she refused to cry. It was only the first day. She wasn't broken yet. She was stronger than this.

"Next time," he whispered, releasing her chin and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "it will be you."