Luca threw his glass at the wall, shattering it instantly, in frustration. The crystal shards rained down, covering the floorboards in a sharp work of art.

It had been three days since his deal with the Don. Three days that Cee had suffered. Three days, and he was no closer to finding the spy than he was to learning how to fly.

"Well, that's not going to help, is it, sir?" Luca's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. Flo, the girl Cee cared so much for, was refusing to leave his office.

"Aren't you supposed to respect me?" Luca mumbled grumpily, too worried to care. The girl was nice. Loyal. He respected that.

"Maybe if you stopped throwing temper tantrums, I would." Flo was curled on his sofa, reading through several files; employment details, character profiles and so on. She hadn't looked at Luca for hours, focusing solely on her work.

"We need to narrow this down." Luca spoke without thinking. Flo nodded, her eyes on the files.

"I agree." She flipped a page. "All due respect, sir, I think we're looking at it from the wrong angle."

Luca looked up, frowning. They had been going through every individual hired in the last six months; before the information began to leak.

"What would you suggest?" Luca found himself asking, despite the girl having no experience, no authority and no respect for him. She was pretty - sure - a cute little blonde with a sassy mouth. He liked her.

"Motive," she answered simply. "Someone who definitely would have a reason to hurt our family and wouldn't mind hurting the Fieros in the process. Someone who could have been bought by the Caitos, or any of their friends."

"Someone linked to the D'Angelos, perhaps," Luca suggested absently, flicking through the files.

"The D'Angelos were only a recent development, sir. The explosion- "

"How do you know about that?" Luca snapped without thinking, his shoulders tense.

"My brother was in it," Flo replied dryly. Luca shook off his suspicion. "It's more likely that the explosion and this case were linked."

"You think the same person did this?" Flo shrugged.

"That's my logical answer, yes."

Luca surveyed her for a second, taking in her serious face, her blonde hair, the way her fingernails tapped on the top of the file nervously.

"Alright," he said, surprising himself. "Let's go with this."

An hour later, Flo and Luca had tracked down every file related to the explosion that had happened months previously.

"Who was involved?" Luca asked, pacing back and forth in front of the window. Flo listed off the names quickly: Dean, Miguel, Francesco, Anton, Stefano, Paulo, Mark.

"Three survivors," he stated. Flo nodded, but began to flip through logs.

"I think- " Flo cut herself off, drawing out a document. She scanned it, her eyes widening. "I don't think Anton wasn't supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" She handed him the document, pointing out the schedule of the night. "Stefano was swapped in last minute, and Anton wasn't supposed to be on duty." Flo looked up to Luca nervously, as if he was going to shout - tell her she was crazy - but his expression was concerned, his eyebrows knitted together.

"How was he involved in the accident?"

"He was inside the van, with my brother and Stefano." Flo tried to hide the tremble in her voice - she hated talking about the accident.

Luca paused, bracing himself against the window frame with both arms. "So he was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Flo shrugged, keeping her emotions out of it.

"I guess. It could just be bad luck." If he was the cause of her brother's condition, she'd kill him.

"But why not take his night off?" Luca couldn't help entertaining the possibility that Anton was his man, he was close to saving Cee. "Why follow his brother unless- "

"Unless he knew there was a bomb planted in the delivery van."

Luca frowned. It was a jump.

"Run me through the timeline leading up to the explosion." Flo pulled out a few pages of writing and began to read.

"Shipment arrived at warehouse at 8.15pm. Planned to deliver at midnight. Maintenance checked the vehicle at 11pm. Men arrived to take shipment at 11.15pm." Flo paused, clearing her throat. "Explosion at 11.45pm, at drop-off."

"So whoever planted the bomb either got into the warehouse within fifteen minutes..." Luca paused. "...Or they were in the maintenance team."

Flo flipped through her documents quickly, pulling out another log. "Maintenance: Jimmy, Carl and- " She looked up suddenly, a gleam in her eyes. "Anton."

Luca ran his hands through his hair, nervously excited. "Get Anton's file."

The pair hadn't checked his file previously, as he'd been working for closer to three years rather than six months.

Flo poured over his details, looking at his records, his shifts, his whereabouts.

"He used his key card to leave the grounds at 11pm a week before the delivery," she told Luca, buzzing with excitement. "He didn't return until 4am- he could have collected the bomb and had a meeting with his employer easily within that time!"

"Bravo, Flo, bravo!" Luca grinned, his heart racing. "And recently?"

Flo shuffled through her papers, creating a miniature tsunami of documents across the floor, but triumphantly held another log up.

"The day before the delivery, this time," Flo revealed, grinning back. "Five hours unaccounted for."

---

Cee groaned, her head pounding. She lifted a hand to her forehead, brushing the familiar texture of gauze. Her eyelids were heavy, almost bruised.

"You're awake," a familiar voice observed. Cee forced her eyes open, finding herself staring at a white ceiling. It took her a second to focus her eyes, but it was definitely a ceiling.

"You didn't eat or drink." Her mind was so foggy, she couldn't understand what the man was shouting. "Ma, che sei grullo?" He sounded angry, she thought. "You could have died!"

Cee blinked her heavy eyes, turning her head slowly to see the Romano Don pacing back and forth.

"I'd rather- " Cee croaked, breaking off into an unhealthy rattling cough. He dropped to her bedside, lifting her gently upright, holding a cup of water to her lips. "I'd rather be dead than in there," she whispered finally.

"Are we done here?" Dr Jordan snapped. Cee recognised him as the first voice. "Are you done starving her in the freezing cold basement?"

Cee let her eyes close again, letting her dreams sweep her away as Romano raised his voice at the poor doctor.

When Cee next opened her eyes, she was alone, staring at another white ceiling. A glass of water was left on a bedside table near her.

The bedroom was not her own. This bedroom was dark; the silk curtains were closed, the walls dark grey, the carpet black. It didn't look homely or even lived in; the walls were blank - no photos or posters or paintings.

Cee stretched a little, wincing at the unfamiliar sensation. The bed she was on was so luxurious - she could almost sink into the mattress and float away like a cloud. She ran her fingers across the sheets, testing the smooth material.

She yawned a little, rubbing her eyes childishly, and tried to sit up. Her head span, making the room tip, but she learnt against the headboard with a sigh of relief.

She was still wearing the clothes from her imprisonment; her eyes snagged on a small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Cee crawled towards it, pulling the underwear towards herself. No one had given her a new shirt, or even jeans. She debated putting the underwear straight on, or borrowing whoever's en-suite it was, but her mind was made up when she tried to run a hand through her hair.

Cee made it to the shower, peeling off her dirty, bloodstained shirt and stepping under the warm water with a sigh, holding onto the wall for balance.

She was forcefully reminded of the last time she had washed the blood from herself; when the man had taken her and thrown her into the basement.

Niccolò wouldn't have done that, she thought, her heart breaking slightly. But he did, her subconscious insisted. He did. Cee fought back tears, remembering her father's promise of a comfortable stay.

Cee shivered, stepping out of the shower, drying herself with a thick, fluffy towel, yanking on her new underwear.

Be strong, she told herself. Be better.

She strode back into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe, pulling out the first shirt she saw. It was a man's room.

She slipped the shirt on, frowning when she saw it fell down to her mid-thigh. It wasn't long enough to be a dress - it would show her panties if she wasn't careful. She breathed in the musky scent of pine and subtle hint of mint; Niccolò. Her resolve tightened.

From now on, she wouldn't be in the same room as him, wouldn't breathe the same air. She couldn't forgive what he did. Not anymore. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the dark pressing into her skin, the walls growing closer together, trapping her-

Cee opened her eyes.

She shut the wardrobe, hearing the sound of someone's raised voice coming from the door.

"-is the spy! You have no reason to torture her anymore!" She drew closer to the door, hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

"Luca- " someone attempted to interrupt him, a woman. Cee recognised the voice immediately: Flo.

"Flo?" Cee flung the door open, drawing all eyes to her.

"Cee?" Luca asked incredulously, taking a step away from Mr Romano's desk. It made sense that he would have an adjoining room and office, as all he seemed to do was work. Before she could say another word, a mass of blonde hair and freckles attacked her, hugging her fiercely, muttering a prayer under her breath.

"Hi," she mumbled timidly, feeling the weight of their stares as Flo finally pulled back.

"What the- is that his shirt?" Luca hissed, his eyes widening, stumbling a step closer.

"Not by choice," she assured him bitterly.

"I'll go get you some of your own clothes." Flo turned to run out the door, sending Niccolò a bitter look.

"You're so skinny," Luca whispered to himself in horror, his eyes trailing down her thin frame.

"Thank you," Cee called after Flo, crossing her arms across her chest uncomfortably.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, cousin," Mr Romano snapped, his deep voice filled with fury. Cee fought against a bitter retort, clenching her teeth together.

"So," her shoulders tensed at his voice, "Sleeping Beauty awakes." Slowly, very slowly, she turned to face the Romano Don.

His eyes were running over every inch of her skin, filled with distaste, lingering on the faint bruising on her arms and legs. Finally, he pulled his gaze up to meet her glare, his face impassive.

She hoped he could feel every ounce of hatred behind her scowl.

"If he touched you- " Luca broke off, swearing in Italian, his focus on Niccolò's shirt hanging off her shoulders.

After a moment, she tore her eyes away, turning to Luca. "As you can see, I'm alive," she said lightly, not bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice, "but I don't think I can make it to my room. Could you help me?"

Luca nodded eagerly, his eyes reflecting his worry, but he was stopped by his cousin's dark voice. "I will escort you myself."

Cee ignored him, her vision blurring slightly at the edges. She put a hand to the doorframe, to steady herself. "Let's go, Luca."

Luca looked to his cousin, his heart torn between family and friend, duty and loyalty. The Romano Don gave a curt nod, backing off.

Cee tried to take a step forward, towards Luca, but somehow her feet never touched the floor, and she was falling, falling into darkness, into sleep.

---

Cee had never thought of herself as ugly. She had Italian blood, she was usually tanned.

She'd had one scar before she came here, just beneath her hairline on the left side of her face. The Fiero home had been attacked once, and her bodyguard had locked her in a cupboard, to keep her safe. Cee had fainted in the tiny space, knocking her head against the door handle.

Now she had several scars. The ugly, shiny gash across her right palm wasn't painful anymore. She had a tiny scar, that no one could see unless they knew what they were looking for, at the top of her cheekbone, where Giovanni D'Angelo's ring had caught her cheek. She had a scar stretching across the back of her head, hidden by her hair.

She could see the bruises on her legs, see the cuts on her arms and face, but there were other scars too. She missed her family like a piece precisely and exactly cut out of her heart by a surgeon; she had chosen to leave them four years ago, and now the wound had reopened.

There were scars that were more than skin-deep; the shadow of a hand groping her body, pulling up her dress, would forever be imprinted beneath her skin. There was the scar now, behind her eyes, of the darkness rushing in to get her.

Cee had never thought of herself as ugly, but now she did. The visible scars made her look tough, made her look like she'd lived her life to the fullest, but the scars of her family, of her fears, made her hate what she looked like.

She was too skinny now. Her bones were pushing against her skin, bulging beneath the surface like they were straining to get out; grotesque. Her ribs were prison bars, her cheekbones felt like knives beneath her skin. She hated it.

In medical school, she hadn't been the healthiest eater: give her a milkshake and a donut and she was ready for her next class. She missed the curve of her thighs, the gently sloping valley between her breasts - she was flat-chested now.

Cee felt tears in her eyes. She didn't look like herself - didn't even recognise herself.

Two knocks. "Permission to enter, Cee?"

"Come in, Flo," Cee croaked, wiping her eyes. Flo was carrying a breakfast tray, heavily laden with food; she'd finally dropped the whole 'Miss' thing.

"I'm not leaving until you finish this tray, Camilla," she said determinedly, a resolute look to her face. "I'm not having this. You need more food, you need more to eat."

"Thank you, Flo," Cee managed, smiling weakly at her friend. Flo set the tray down on the pink vanity table, holding out the mug of hot chocolate for Cee. "And you have to drink at least three cups of hot chocolate to reassure me that you're okay."

Cee laughed, eating a spoonful of warm porridge. "You've got to feed me up, Flo," she said, sipping her hot cocoa. "Promise me you won't let me stay looking like this."

"I promise, Cee."

Romano paced back and forth in his room, his mind stuck on one subject. The spy had to be punished. Anton had betrayed the family, between his own brother, betrayed his team, betrayed him. And he had punished the innocent in the traitor's place.

Romano swore, collapsing onto his bed, dropping his head to his head to his hands. That Fiero girl. She'd been through so much, for so little. She wasn't trained as a spy, she wasn't stealing his information, she wasn't a threat to anyone. She was about as dangerous as a kitten, and half of the family seemed to adore her.

When the negotiations were completed, the Fieros would take back their precious daughter, hear about her sob story, and try to end the agreement. His actions would cost his family, unless he could make amends.

Romano called Luca to his office.

"You wanted to see me?" Luca seemed wary, unsure of whether this was personal or business.

"Personal." Niccolò sighed. "You're free to speak."

"You're an asshole." Niccolò glared at his cousin.

"Not that free." Luca shrugged, throwing himself onto the sofa in the Don's office.

"I forgive you for a lot of things, because I can see that the things you do are to protect the family, even when you hurt me." Niccolò sighed, sensing a 'but' coming. "But Cee isn't part of your world, and you can't treat her like that. You'd never do that to anyone else."

Luca hesitated, unwilling to push his cousin's limits too far. "Say whatever it is," Niccolò waved his hand dismissively, "this isn't business."

"What you did to her was inhumane, and against everything my mother taught us." Niccolò closed his eyes, as if he could block out whatever Luca was about to say. "Diana taught us to be kind, fair, and to protect the family. Justice and- and being fair- that's what she cared about the most. You thought you were protecting the family, but you weren't. Cee has brought more life to that hospital wing than anyone.

"I know you want to protect the family. Don't let your hatred of Cee blind you." Niccolò didn't make a move to reply. He knew his cousin was right - but it was difficult. Luca waited for a beat, before leaving without being dismissed, knowing his boss wasn't in the mood to talk.

Niccolò stood still, impassive and silent. Hatred? Did he hate her?

The way she looked at him with her big, dark eyes - so innocently - when her father traded her off like a child with a toy. The peaceful way she had been sleeping when he forced her out of the car- god, he'd hated Camilla because she was a Fiero spy, not because of her self.

She'd been trying to trick him from Day One, lying to him about Luca, sneaking into the medical wing to collect information - or trying to help? The way she had looked at him, so helplessly, so disappointed, when he held her by the neck in the medical wing. It was the same look she gave him at the disastrous business dinner with the D'Angelo scum.

He stood there for a moment longer, considering the girl. In a month's time, she'd be gone. She was nothing but a distraction.

---

"There we are, Dean," Cee finished the chapter with a sad smile. "The Great Gatsby is so sad, I think, but so beautiful. Don't you agree?" A knock at the door surprised her and Anton, who turned rapidly at the sound, flinching almost nervously at the abrupt sound.

"Mr Romano would like to see you in his office." Cee looked at Anton; Anton looked at her. "I mean you, Miss Fiero." Anton seemed to breathe a sigh of relief; Cee didn't blame him. She was terrified of Niccolò too.

"Oh." Cee blinked, her jaw tightening. "Right. Thank you." The man nodded again, casting one look at Anton before he left.

"You're not going to go, are you?" Anton asked, his voice unusually dry.

"No chance," Cee smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dean, squeeze if you can hear me."

Cee tucked him in, helping Anton adjust his pillows before she headed for the door. "Tell them I went to visit Rosa, if they ask."

Rosa, the pregnant woman that she had visited, had given birth while Cee was locked away. She named her daughter Daisy, after some of the flowers Cee had brought her. Gabriel, her husband, had died; he bled out, just after Cee had called for help. He never got to meet his daughter. Rosa was inconsolable, until little Daisy came.

Before she could leave, Anton grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer for a second; the look in his eyes was almost wild. "Anton?" she asked cautiously, as he opened his mouth to say something, and then changed his mind.

"Be careful."

---