"Miss Cee?" Flo knocked her knuckles against the door, feeling a little lost without her usual breakfast tray. "Permission to enter?" There was no reply.

Flo tutted to herself; either the girl was in the shower, taking too long as usual, or she was still dead to the world. "Miss Cee," she called once again, her hand ready on the handle. Shaking her head fondly, Flo opened the door, expecting to see Cee's curled up body in bed; instead, the room was empty.

Flo blinked at the unfamiliar room, getting used to the lack of pink. "Miss Cee?" she asked uncertainly. "Are you here?" The bathroom was silent, no shower running. The smell of paint was still strong.

Flo half-ran upstairs, heading away from the Don's office and towards Luca's. As the head of security, he would know who was on duty from her protection team - she had two people with her at all times - they would be with her.

She knocked at the door sharply, barely waiting for a reply before rushing inside. Luca was awake, as usual, but this time he looked as if he hadn't slept yet; his collar was undone and his hair was a mess of curls, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He stared at her blearily.

"Hey, Flo- "

"Who's with Cee?" She didn't mean to interrupt him, but she was worried for some reason. "I was meant to collect her for breakfast with the boss." Luca frowned.

"Niccolò asked her to breakfast?"

"Luca!" Flo was agitated.

"Right- sorry." Luca yawned, closing a couple of windows on his computer. "What did you want again?"

"Who's with Cee?" She repeated impatiently. He sighed, pulling up a document on his computer screen, scrolling through several pages, before locating the right information.

"Katherine and Stefano," he informed her finally, folding his arms behind his head.

"Can you call them? Find where she is?" He rolled his eyes jokingly, but dialled a number on his mobile, spinning in his chair. Flo waited impatiently. It wasn't like Cee to go missing- or be up before 8am. Luca frowned at his phone; it had rung out. He tried a second number, and a woman immediately picked up.

"Katherine Tommasso," the woman reported formally.

"Are you with Miss Fiero?" Flo's ears perked up, although she couldn't hear the reply.

"Yes, sir." Luca nodded to Flo, letting her relax.

"Where is she?"

"Greenhouse, sir."

"Does she know you're there?"

"No, sir, she's sleeping."

"She has a breakfast engagement with Mr Romano - wake her up and remind her."

"Yes, sir." Luca hung up, tossing his mobile onto his desk.

"There."

"Thank you," Flo mumbled, feeling a bit foolish; she shifted uncomfortably. "I thought... well, never mind."

"You thought what?" he pressed curiously, watching the girl struggle to think.

"I thought she might have run." Luca looked confused, and Flo rushed to explain. "She had a business meeting with Mr Romano last night, and if he told her the truth about the negotiation process, she might have panicked."

Luca nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "I am surprised he's invited her to breakfast as well." She shrugged.

"Sorry for wasting your time, sir." Luca smiled, waving off her apology.

"You can always come to me for help." Flo nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat, before exiting the office.

"Miss Fiero?" Cee felt someone shake her, hard. She rubbed her eyes, squinting in the light.

"What's happening," she mumbled, feeling her shoulders twinge sharply from sleeping curled in a ball in a wooden crate.

"You have breakfast with Mr Romano." The woman stood in front of her looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't think why - her brain was still half-asleep. Cee yawned, stretching, then looked at the woman again.

"I know you," she muttered distractedly, sounding confused.

"My name is Katherine Tommasso." Cee dragged the name through her memories, searching for a connection. It clicked. Her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Katherine." The woman shrugged, the muscles in her arms rippling, making no move to reply.

Cee pulled herself to her feet, her back clicking uncomfortably. "What am I doing again?" she mumbled, following Katherine to the door of the greenhouse.

"Breakfast." Cee shook her head, pausing.

"I didn't think that was happening anymore." Katherine shrugged her broad shoulders, glancing back at her.

"I got a call to say you were needed." Cee nodded, her heart sinking. Katherine on duty was so different to the woman she'd seen that night: sleeping on the floor, just to find any news about her husband. This Katherine was bold and dangerous.

Katherine led her through the corridors, towards a private room near the kitchens, but Cee protested, suddenly realising she was still in a loose singlet and cotton shorts.

"Can't I change first?" Katherine looked her outfit over, her face impassive.

"No." This woman hated her. Cee tried to cover herself up with her arms, wrapping them around herself as if she could hide her skimpy outfit from the Romano Don.

Katherine knocked hard on the door before opening it, pushing Cee forward. Cee stumbled into the room barefoot, her cheeks red.

Niccolò Romano rose from his chair, his eyes lingering on her bare legs, taking in her pale skin leisurely. Katherine slammed the door behind her.

"Camilla," he greeted her as if everything was totally normal; as if she wasn't in her pyjamas, as if he hadn't watched her being forced to her knees in front of him, as if they hadn't been on a date yesterday.

"Mr Romano," Cee said bitterly, shuffling uncomfortably. "What do you want?" He walked towards her slowly, taking his time, before placing his hand on her lower back, guiding her towards the table at the centre of the small room. Cee tried to ignore the soft tingling effect he had on her, where she could feel his controlling touch through her clothes.

One wall of the room was entirely made of glass, with a view out across the beautiful Romano gardens, filling the room with soft morning sunlight; the table was set for two. Steam twisted gently from a mug of hot chocolate at one table place.

Cee shrugged him off, refusing to sit. "What do you want?" she asked tiredly, unwilling to play his games. He frowned, removing his hand.

"I asked you to have breakfast with me last night."

"Before you had me banned from the top floor," she snapped, feeling pathetic. Foolishly, she'd believed that the Niccolò on her date was the real man behind the facade, that there was a person beneath the cold exterior.

He shrugged, brushing off her indignant attitude like it was nothing, pulling her chair out for her. "I never said I would cancel." He seemed entirely unaffected by her hurt expression, but tilted his head slightly. "Did I say something?"

Cee shook her head, turning for the door, but only made one step forward before he caught her around the waist with one arm, pulling her to a sharp halt. Her heart sped up instinctively, against her will.

"Camilla," he snapped, holding her tight - trying to rein in his anger at the disrespect. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore him. "I'm sorry if I've offended you." Her knees felt weak as she felt his breath skim past her ear; he pressed a light kiss to her cheek, making her melt - she was pretty sure he heard her breathing hitch, but he didn't comment.

She let him lead her to the table, sitting down reluctantly. He slid the mug of hot chocolate over to her and she cradled it close to her chest, warming her hands. "I don't understand." Her voice was weak. Niccolò looked at her questioningly, a different man again. "Why are you doing this?"

"I can," he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. Cee bit her lip, struggling to understand; the Niccolò that took her out for gelato for dinner was an entirely separate man from the Romano Don.

"Why are you so nice one minute and so- so cold the next?" He inclined his head, looking at her leisurely.

"This is personal," he explained, gesturing to her, "not business." Cee shook her head, unsatisfied.

"You don't have to be mean to me while you're doing business," she mumbled childishly, sipping her hot chocolate. Niccolò frowned, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

"I didn't realise I was being mean."

"Your guard hurt me!" she protested, immediately regretting it when she saw a dark flash in his eyes.

He leant forward in furious silence, scanning her body. Cee shrank into her chair, avoiding his gaze and crossing her legs over to hide the worse of her two knees. They had bruised overnight. She lifted her eyes to meet his, finding herself frozen in place.

Niccolò stood suddenly, moving forward and crouching in front of her, his fingertips skimming her knee. "She will be punished for hurting you," he informed her emotionlessly, not noticing the way Cee's breathing was suddenly erratic. It felt like a static shock every time his skin touched hers; a warm tingle than travelled up her thigh-

Cee snapped out of it. "Please don't," she pleaded, pulling herself away from him. "You ordered her to do it, it wasn't her fault."

He gave her a warning glance, standing up straight. "I can't have distractions while I work."

"I'm not a distraction!" Cee felt hurt, right down to her core; she was no one's play thing to lead on and mess with as a distraction from the big bad mafia world.

"You are a distraction in the purest sense of the word," he told her calmly, relaxing back in his chair. "I must focus on my work." Cee avoided his gaze, playing with her fingers in her lap; he noticed. "Nervous?"

"Don't tease me," she muttered, making him laugh. It was so unexpected; to hear the Don tip his head back and laugh freely, to hear such a terrifying man so relaxed.

"Please, eat," he smiled, admiring her with a predatory look.

"Only if you promise not to hurt the woman on duty," she bargained quickly, folding her arms defiantly.

Niccolò frowned, unused to making deals he didn't want. Cee saw the warning in his eyes, noticed his reluctance to give up a position of power: like a true Don. "Please," she added, trying to soften his decision.

"I'll see," he said coolly, unwilling to let the guard go; Camilla was never to be harmed - the woman had disobeyed his direct order, and subsequently broken his promise to her. He had meant it: Camilla would never be harmed again, by him or his orders.

"Thank you," she sighed, knowing that it was the closest she'd get to saving the woman. Cee finished her hot chocolate, enjoying the warm feeling of comfort; warm, buttery, flakey croissants were waiting on the table - Niccolò nodded to them, insisting that she ate.

As she chewed, she watched the Romano Don; his gaze was directed at the gardens outside - and he didn't seem to have eaten anything, judging by the clean plate in front of him.

She studied him, admiring his sharp jaw, the soft shadow of stubble, the way his curls twisted and brushed his forehead, the casual strength that was barely contained by his muscles. For an illegal equivalent of a CEO, he was ridiculously built - as if he did manual labour in his working life instead of distributing weaponry.

"Do you know what happens to people who stare at me?" He raised an eyebrow, making her blush and look away. He hadn't even needed to turn in her direction - he could feel the weight of her eyes.

"I thought I was allowed," she mumbled, blushing, deliberately staring out the window instead of meeting his gaze.

"You are." Cee squirmed in her chair, butterflies erupting in her stomach. She could see his reflection in the glass - still gazing at her.

"You need to eat." Niccolò saw through her attempt to distract him, a glare forming on his face.

"Do not give me orders." His voice was strict again.

Cee shrank back, searching for an easier topic. Niccolò was hard to read; just when she thought she was getting somewhere, he'd back away, respond coldly. "Do you always eat here?" He shrugged, passing an apple from one hand to another. "When I can," he answered vaguely, "I rarely have time."

"I feel honoured," she muttered, making him hide a smile.

"Are you being disrespectful, Camilla?" His tone was light, teasing. This was the Niccolò she liked.

"I wouldn't dream of it." She paused for a second, watching the wind ruffle the bed of roses near the window. "And it's Cee."

"I prefer to call you Camilla," he informed her idly, reclining in his chair.

She shrugged, her heart pulsing rapidly. "Camilla, then."