"Allow me," Niccolò murmured, far too close to Cee's ear as he reached around her for the car door, his arms brushing against her waist. He couldn't help himself, lingering for a second too long, inhaling the soft scent of roses from Camilla's hair; she was angelic.

Cee rolled her eyes, fighting off the blush that threatened to rise to her cheeks. She knew what he was doing; they both knew he wasn't even pretending to have an excuse to be this close. Regardless, she let him finish off his gentlemanly act, allowing herself to smile - only a tiny bit, though, so she didn't encourage him.

Niccolò ducked into the driver's seat, joining her in the plush interior; it wasn't his father's car this time - some flashy sports car that Elias had persuaded him to buy on a whim. Glancing at the angel sitting, slightly uncomfortably, in the seat next to him, he finally approved of the ostentatious buy; perhaps it was the shimmer of her dress against the black leather, or the way she'd glanced at the sleek, midnight exterior of the car with a look of awe before climbing in.

He wanted her to feel like a princess - if not a Queen; subconsciously, Niccolò resolved to provide her with anything and everything she wanted.

"Seatbelt," he ordered calmly, refusing to even start the ignition before she was strapped in; she sent him an incredulous look, which only made him smile before the engine purred, the car smoothly rolling away.

Cee tried to relax into the smooth leather, nervously tapping her fingers against her thigh. Was she nervous for the date? Or for what would come after?

"I'm nervous," she confessed to Niccolò, for the second time, refusing to meet his gaze even as he glanced up at her from the road.

"Tell me why," he murmured, demanding in his usual way but with no hint of anger or offence - he was going to make her as comfortable as he could. Accidentally, Cee met his eyes in the rearview mirror and blushed, casting her eyes down to her fidgeting fingers.

"I don't know what to expect," she mumbled in response, daring to peek up at him through her lashes; he nodded once, shortly, expecting her to go on. "And you're still a little bit scary."

Niccolò, at first, had to force himself to stay calm, clenching his fists around the steering wheel and glaring forward at the road; he hated the idea that she was scared of him. He was the one person in this world that she could trust with her life, and he would never hurt her.

Abruptly, Camilla interrupted his flash of anger, a horrified expression on her face. "I mean, I'm not scared of you! You're- you're intimidating, sure- I meant that you- I mean, I-"

"Do I make you nervous, carissima?" Niccolò's expression was amused, making him smile when she nodded, a fierce blush on her cheeks. "Do I make your heart race?"

"Niccolò!" Cee protested, her hands flying to her cheeks to hide the blood rushing to her face; he always knew exactly what to say to make her heart flutter.

"Don't cover your blush," he instructed, catching her wrist with one hand and gently tugging it away, a small smile on his face. Cee turned her head away pointedly, even her ears burning with heat now; she heard his quiet hum of pleasure before he brought her wrist to his lips.

"You're lucky I allow you to disobey orders," he murmured, finally releasing her hand to indicate left, the neon lights of the city glinting across the windscreen. Cee risked a quick glance at his profile, briefly imagining what it would be like to tangle her fingers in his hair, to kiss his sharp jaw, to lie against his muscular chest at night - every night.

Niccolò made a low disapproving noise, feeling his entire body tense, straining to reach out and pull Camilla onto his lap; that look she was giving him, with her big chocolate-brown eyes, her lips parted just slightly, her cheeks flushed - she was irresistable. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Cee protested, struggling to keep a straight face; his orders didn't scare her. "You said I'm allowed to stare at you."

"Tesoro," he warned, but his tone was amused; Cee smiled to herself, forcing herself to think about anything other than her immanent betrayal. Niccolò would never smile at her like that again, not once he knew; he wouldn't trust her.

"Niccolò," she mumbled, shaking her head slightly to clear her mind, "where are we going?"

"I want to show you something," he replied, his hands tensing on the wheel as they drove towards the outskirts of the city, heading away from the bright lights of the big city; he was watching her in the rearview mirror, considering her critically for a second.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, brushing her palms over the silvery skirt of her dress; it was skin-tight - maybe he didn't like it?

Niccolò caught her eye again, but this time, he was assessing her dress with a dark look, a sinful glint to his eye. "You look good, cara. I just don't know how you will react."

"React to what?" Cee asked curiously, focusing all her attention on him. They were driving along quiet roads now, past houses in cul-de-sacs, with glowing, warm windows and families enjoying a night in - it seemed like a safe neighbourhood. It seemed like a neighbourhood someone like Niccolò shouldn't be able to get into.

"You'll see," he replied after a pause, finally pulling up outside a standard, normal house - the lights were on, shining through the closed curtains in the upstairs and downstairs windows. Cee looked from the house to Niccolò, a quizzical look in her eye. "This is it," he nodded, opening his car door and escaping into the cold night air; she followed his lead, closing the door softly behind her.

Niccolò waited, watching her expression as she joined him nervously, heading up the garden path together. For a second, Cee's imagination ran wild, imagining Niccolò escorting her home after a date, returning home to their children, asleep in bed. Blushing, she was tempted to slip her hand into Niccolò's for comfort - but didn't want to overstep.

He pressed the doorbell once, setting off a cheerful ringing sound deep inside the house; at once, there was a buzz of young voices, of chatter, as the couple waited on the porch. "I hope you like children," Niccolò said abruptly, without looking at Cee.

She didn't have a chance to respond before the door swung open, revealing a white-haired, bearded man, with smile lines around his mouth and eyes; behind him, several small children were peering curiously at the couple.

"Mr Romano!" The old man looked thrilled, like Christmas had come early - he reminded Cee of the perfect Santa Claus, beard included. "How are you, young man?" It was so unusual to hear Niccolò be addressed as a 'young man', rather than Boss, that Cee smiled a little, drawing attention to herself. "And who's this?"

"My name is Cee," she held out her hand, smiling slightly nervously at the man, but he grasped her hand tightly before pulling her into a warm hug.

"Welcome to the family, Cee!" At that, Cee's heart jumped a little; surely Niccolò wouldn't involve the father of all those children in his illegal business? "I'm James - I run this place." Run this place?

James finally stepped back, a jolly smile on his face; he looked like the epitome of a kind father - or perhaps grandfather. Niccolò's hand came to rest at the small of her back, drawing her slightly closer instinctively; he seemed to note her confusion without even hearing her voice.

"I came to check up on the children," Niccolò explained to James, "and to introduce Camilla."

"Come on in, come on in," James ushered them inside, closing the door behind them and turning to the few children that lingered in the corridor. "Jamie, would you show Cee around for me?" Cee turned her eyes to the young girl, with ginger hair tied up in pigtails, smiling kindly; the little girl, Jamie, nodded, reaching for Cee's hand immediately.

"Hi Cee, I'm Jamie," the little girl announced, pulling Cee along behind her - Niccolò followed silently, just a second behind. "I'm eight and a half."

"Are you sure?" Cee forced herself to look deadly serious, for the sake of the girl. "You look so much older." The little girl turned, stopping just before the stairs and stared at Cee with such an intensity that she seemed to age another ten years.

"I like you," the girl decided, tugging on Cee's hand again. "I'm going to show you the play room and then you can see my room and Evie's room - it's just upstairs." Cee followed Jamie up the stairs, peeping into the rooms off the corridor they arrived at. "That's the play room," Jamie announced, pointing at the open door; Cee could see a couple of sofas, a basket of toys - and a group of children playing in their pyjamas - two girls, who looked like twins, and a few boys running around - laughing.

"We get to watch movies in there sometimes but only on weekends," Jamie pouted, spinning and heading towards another door, leaving Cee and Niccolò looking in at the play room.

"This is an orphanage," she whispered, feeling Niccolò waiting patiently at her shoulder; the two girls, inside, were messing around with a pink, plastic house and several dolls - Barbies - talking quietly. They reminded her so strongly of Caterina that she felt her heart squeeze, as if someone had reached into her chest and clenched their fist around her soul.

"It's one of my legal businesses," Niccolò murmured, leading her away from the play room and back to an impatient Jamie, with her arms folded. Cee almost stiffened, turning her face towards him.

"You own this?" she asked quietly, her heart pounding sharply.

"I'll explain later," he dismissed, gesturing back to the eight year old standing in front of them.

"This is my room," Jamie revealed, pushing open the door to her left; a small, single bed was positioned against two opposite walls, leaving a small space in the centre of the room for a fluffy carpet. Stuffed animals sat along the window sill, guarding the room from Peter Pan - they looked worn, in the well-loved kind of way. "That's Evie's bed," she pointed, spinning around the room quickly.

"Who's this?" Cee couldn't help asking, reaching forward to touch the teddy bear on Jamie's bed; Jamie snatched it away quickly, hiding it under her pillow.

"No one," she argued, glaring at Cee, "I'm too old for teddies."

"You're never too old for teddies," Cee replied softly, her heart melting for the tough-as-nails tomboy; even her cropped hair and boyish clothes couldn't hide how cute Jamie was. "My teddy was blue - he was called Mr Bob." Jamie was watching her suspiciously, her eyes flickering past Cee to Niccolò every so often, before finally she drew her hand out from underneath the pillow, daring the two adults to mock her.

"I don't have a teddy bear," Jamie snapped defensively, carefully cradling the stuffed rabbit to her chest, "I have a rabbit."

"What's your rabbit's name?" Cee asked gently, careful not to come off as condescending - children always knew when adults weren't sincere.

"Bun-Bun," Jamie mumbled, hugging the toy tightly for a second before replacing it back onto her pillow, forcing Cee and Niccolò out of the room. "Come on, I'll show you the art room next."

Ten minutes later, James was waving goodbye to them from the porch of the house, with Jamie stubbornly staring out of the window at them, along with a few other curious faces. Cee let her head fall back against the leather of the car seat, almost overwhelmed; it was as if Caterina was following her around, still hugging a phantom teddy bear.

"You own an orphanage," Cee spoke abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence in the car as Niccolò drove, heading for the restaurant this time. He glanced over at her, his jaw set.

"Yes," he replied shortly, as if he was wary about her reaction. "I do."

"Why?" She couldn't help asking, watching how his muscles shifted as he drove, how he appeared almost uncomfortable talking about it; it was obvious to her that the orphanage meant a lot to him. "You don't have to answer," she added, when he paused slightly longer than normal.

"Wait until we reach the restaurant," he instructed, playing for time, "I will tell you." Cee nodded; he was trying to open up to her - to her! Niccolò was melting her heart into liquid gold - they both knew he wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he was showing her the intimate, tiny parts of his life that no one knew about, and she loved every second of it. In that moment, it wouldn't have mattered to her if Niccolò decided to delay telling her about the orphanage for a year, because he was still trying, and that was more than enough.

Cee watched out of the window as the glowing sparkles of the city drew nearer, illuminating the sky, weaving a web of gold across the skyscraper network - it was impossible to feel lonely in this city. It had been her home as a student, training to be a nurse, and it was her home now - with Niccolò.

"Thank you for showing me," she murmured eventually, once he'd parked, her eyes sparkling as she turned to Niccolò. He didn't reply, watching how the city lights were caught in her hair and eyes, how her dress shimmered against her skin. "I love it." Before she lost her nerve, Cee took a deep breath and leaned forward, aiming to kiss his cheek - but he caught her chin with his finger and thumb, firmly pressing his lips to hers.

She froze, waiting for him to release his grip on her before she leant back, her cheeks flushed.

"I wanted you to like it," he replied, his voice rough - and for some reason, his words felt like a promise: a promise of more things to come, of more surprises, of more kisses.

"Tell me about it inside," she offered, smiling shyly at him - he didn't even know the effect he had on her; she didn't think she could spend another minute in this car - smelling like fresh pine and mint and masculine - like him - with kisses like that just inches away.

Niccolò almost smiled to himself as she climbed out of the car first - determined and stubborn as ever.

"Camilla," he called over the top of the car as he stepped out, slamming the door. "You didn't allow me to get your door." Even in the night air, he could just make out the faint blush covering her cheeks; she was an angel, shining in the dark.

"I didn't know you wanted to," she admitted, her gaze following him as he rounded the bonnet, his hand immediately reaching for her waist; she shivered as his hot palm grazed her hip, pulling her into his side as he lightly guided her towards the front entrance of the restaurant.

A waiter immediately offered to take their coats; another led them to a secluded table, candlelit - the sound of soft jazz piano drifted through the air, washing over Cee's nerves, calming her.

Niccolò's face was shadowed, made up of sharp angles and rough lines, but despite the dim interior, Cee could feel his eyes on her, watching her protectively as they each took a seat at the semi-circle booth-style table. He was almost a model - his jawline flawless, his skin perfect except for the almost invisible scars; she almost jumped out her own skin when he moved, leaning back casually to observe her.

"The orphanage?" Cee prompted, pausing as a waiter served her water, passing her a menu which she promptly set aside to ignore until Niccolò finished speaking. The semi-circular shape of the booth was designed specifically to make dining as private as possible; they could speak freely.

"The orphanage," he repeated, musing to himself, his gaze focused on the crisp, leather-bound menu without reading a single word. "I established the orphanage almost five years ago."

"Five years ago?" Cee repeated, drawn towards him - something about Niccolò, in the dark shirt that fit so well to his muscular body, in the dim lighting, leaning back so nonchalantly with the world at his feet, was intoxicating. She couldn't help wanting him.

"When my aunt, Diana, died." His voice was cool, careless - but deliberately so: Cee could tell he'd practiced saying that - my aunt died - without emotion, to hide his weakness. Her breathing hitched just a little; he'd been through so much in life, so much pain and grieving, but he was still hurting. Family was everything to him. His eyes met hers; hers were caramel, liquid worry, his were almost black, bitter chocolate.

"I'm sorry." Cee paused for a second, tempted to reach out, touch his hand. He surprised her; he reached out first, taking her hand and pulling her gently so that they both drew closer along the curved plush booth. She didn't dare speak, watching as he intertwined his fingers with hers, letting their hands fall to rest in her lap - he could tell she'd wanted to do that earlier by the shy smile that graced her lips.

"Can I ask what happened?"