8.45.

It was time.

Cee looked at the clock for a second longer, hoping it was wrong so that she could spend more time with Niccolò. She loved spending time with him - even in the small lulls in conversation where they both quietly enjoyed each other's company, and the sound of piano keys tinkling from across the dining area.

But she couldn't delay any longer. If Stefano and his employers thought she'd bailed, Flo and Angela could die. She had to leave - and she had to leave now.

"Excuse me," she murmured to Niccolò, setting aside her napkin carefully - it was probably worth more than her entire wardrobe combined, knowing Niccolò's expensive taste in restaurants. "I'm going to find a bathroom."

"Allow me," he replied immediately, finding any excuse to keep his eye on her at all times; he made a move to stand up, but Cee crossed her arms tightly, giving him a warning look.

"I don't need a babysitter," she muttered defensively. "Sit back down." For once, Niccolò followed someone else's order without a fuss, but his eyes were narrowed as he sat down.

"Fine," he shot back. "Kiss me." Cee felt her cheeks light up with pink; she had to turn away at his mocking expression - he knew exactly how to make her squirm.

"That's not a logical way of proving I can find a bathroom safely," she blurted out, taking an uncertain step away from him; he had that predatory look in his eye, the one which made her want to run straight into his arms - but she couldn't. Not now.

"No," he agreed, leaning back deliberately, relishing the torn expression on her face. "It's a deal: I'll let you go, if you kiss me." His own face was totally impassive, not joking in the slightest, observing her critically to calculate her next move; she blushed.

"This is not a business deal," she protested weakly, but she moved forward the tiniest bit; Niccolò had clearly seen something he liked, because his eyes were glinting - just like they did when a negotiation had gone exactly to plan. Cee realised pretty quickly that he wasn't going to give in. Sighing, she leant forward, aiming for his cheek - but she should have known Niccolò wouldn't let her get off that easily.

Just as she closed her eyes, Niccolò turned his head, catching her off guard so that her lips were on his; he waited patiently for her to get over the shock before she tilted her head slightly to the side, kissing him softly. He'd kissed far too many women in the past - most of them kissed him with lust and greed, wanting more, but Camilla was different. Her touch was feather-light, her movements uncertain, gentle; she kissed him like he was her saviour.

He let her explore the kiss - not pushing or taking like he usually would, but letting her taste him the way she wanted to; when she pulled away, it took every inch of his self-control to let her be, instead of pulling her down into his lap and trapping her there for hours.

When Cee finally opened her eyes, she was breathing rapidly, her heart fluttering in her chest, her cheeks flushed; Niccolò, on the other hand, looked completely unruffled, and almost amused at her state.

"You can go," he allowed, a satisfied glint in his cold eyes. Cee tried to hide her blush, scurrying away from him as though she could run away from her embarrassment. She found the bathroom easily enough, staring into the mirror at her flushed cheeks and her lips - slightly more pink than usual?

For a second, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to continue her date with the Romano Don - to kiss him every evening after he came home, to wake up in his bed each morning - but her fantasy was short lived. She had to leave - and she had to leave now.

Cee tried to brace herself, heading out of the bathroom door; she could just about see Niccolò's dark hair, silhouetted, on the opposite side of the dining area - but nothing else.

"Just go," she told herself quietly, heading towards the front door as quickly and surreptitiously as she could - but before she could walk through the glass doors, a server stopped her.

"Miss Fiero," he called, making her wince - but his voice couldn't carry over the sound of conversation, cutlery and music. "Ma'am, we have strict instructions to not let you outside without Mr Romano."

"I'm just going for some air," Cee tried, smiling weakly, trying to move past him - but he moved to block her way, his eyes darting past her to Niccolò's figure, sitting across the room from them, completely unaware his date was trying to escape.

"We have strict instructions," he repeated uncertainly, looking nervous; he didn't want to disobey orders, but he also didn't want to disrespect Mr Romano's date and cause a scene.

"Look," Cee began quietly, making her eyes wide and hopeful, "I'm heading out for a smoke break and Niccolò-" the waiter winced at Mr Romano's first name "-hates it when I smoke, so please don't tell him."

He glanced between Cee and Mr Romano's shadow, a nervous deliberation going on in his head; she could see him wavering, so she pushed her advantage. "I'll only be a second, I told him I was going to the bathroom. You won't get in trouble."

The poor waiter stood aside, nodding in agreement. "I won't tell him," the waiter promised with a nervous smile.

"You're an angel," Cee told him, beaming, her heart breaking. "Thank you." The cool air pricked her skin as she hurried out the door, every step driving knives through the soles of her feet. Her smile dropped immediately, fear pushing her forward, towards the shadowy figure lurking by the silhouette of a car; Stefano had a gun levelled at her head.

"I'm here," Cee managed, eyeing the firearm warily. "I didn't tell him."

"Get in," he snapped impatiently, a wild look on his face; he was ready to kill, and she was ready to die. Cee raised her hands slowly, stepping towards the passenger side of the car - he jerked the gun at her sharply. "Other side," he ordered forcefully, his voice raised as much as he dared. "Now!"

She scurried around to the driver's side of the car, her hands shaking with fear; she couldn't legally drive. She'd had lessons - once or twice - but by the time she was good enough to pass her test, she'd moved to university in the city, where a car was more of a hindrance than help. Stefano climbed into the car with her, reaching across to press the ice-cold barrel of the gun against her cheek; Cee felt herself shaking, but she pulled herself together. Now was not the time for fear; she could be scared as soon as Flo and Angela were safe.

"Start driving," he demanded, pulling his arm back, but resting his hand with the gun still pointed in her direction. Cee took a deep breath, turning the ignition. She started driving.

---

Niccolò drummed his fingers on the table impatiently; Camilla had been gone far too long. He couldn't hide it anymore: he liked her. He really liked her - he was tempted to call off the dinner and just take her home, to their home, for privacy. To carry her over the threshold, let her fall asleep in his bed.

It had been nearly ten minutes. The atmosphere around his table was changing; waiters had begun noticing the change in mood, began avoiding the dark, menacing aura surrounding the Romano Don.

Guests began to speak in hushed tones, noticing the tone of the restaurant changing rapidly; all over Mr Romano's terrifying presence.

Niccolò stood up abruptly, making at least one waiter flinch. He cast a dark glare across the room, locking onto the bathroom signs, and made his way across the dining area, eyes following him wherever he went. A bubble of silence descended on his immediate vicinity, quickly followed by a burst of whispers and exclamations; he was easily recognised.

He didn't notice. He was used to the years of whispers, of stares, that trailed after him. Pushing open the door, Niccolò followed signs for the entrance to the women's bathroom - he didn't care in the slightest at the alarmed look one woman shot him as he ducked inside the washroom.

"Camilla?" he called loudly, in the small, marbled bathroom, with a hundred mirrors and a thousand tiny lights embedded in the ceiling. "Are you in here?" He heard the toilet flush behind the only occupied door; a middle-aged woman, who was definitely not Camilla, scurried out, avoiding his gaze. Niccolò felt his heart drop; Camilla wasn't there. He'd let her out of his sight for five minutes, and she'd been taken - he'd let her down again. He had to protect her.

Turning on his heel, Niccolò stormed back towards the dining area, nearly barging one waiter to the floor; the poor man stumbled, apologising profusely, his face pale.

"Shut up," Niccolò snapped coldly, ignoring the man's blithering, panicked apologies. "Did Miss Fiero leave this building?" The man went extremely pale. "I gave strict orders for Camilla to not leave this building - I paid this restaurant to make sure she would be safe."

"I- I-" The man stammered, but Niccolò had already seen the flash of uncertainty in his eyes; it was enough to condemn him. In less than a second, Niccolò had him pinned against the wall, his gun shoved against the underside of the waiter's jaw; gasps erupted from the guests as they watched, with horror, the Romano Don lose control.

"Where is she?" Niccolò snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Where the fuck did she go?"

"She went outside to smoke," the man confessed immediately, sweating profusely, "she told me not to tell you!"

Niccolò released him with disgust, dropping him to the floor like a used cigarette; the man whimpered, collapsing against the wall. "You take orders from me, not from her," Niccolò hissed, tempted to shoot him right then and there, in the forehead - nice, clean, one shot. "If she is in any danger, I swear to God, I will wipe out your bloodline from this godforsaken earth."

The waiter looked like he was about to piss himself; the Don turned away, keeping his gun to hand. Camilla didn't smoke - she'd only tried it once - which meant she'd lied; and she would never have chosen to leave their date willingly - he knew that much. Which meant his girl, his clever girl, had left him a clue, telling him she was in danger.

Within seconds, Niccolò had his phone out, dialling his cousin's number and pressing the device to his ear, storming through the startled, frozen dining room.

"Luca," Niccolò snapped down the line, his entire body radiating tension; he slammed open the restaurant door, itching to pull the trigger on someone - anyone - who crossed him. "Camilla is gone."

"What?" Luca sounded confused, his voice buzzing slightly on the line. Niccolò reached his car, his hand diving into his pocket to unlock the door, before ducking inside.

"Camilla is gone," he repeated, losing the edge of anger and transforming. Gone was the emotional rage, the impulsive anger; cold, calm and cutting - this was the Romano Don at the height of fury. "Contact everyone in the city - I want all eyes and ears open."

"She left your date?" Luca questioned, horrified, at the other end of the phone, making Niccolò's fist clench around the phone.

"She was taken," Niccolò stated, impassively: a fact, not an opinion. "Start looking for her."

"How long has she been missing?" Luca asked, his work-mode flicking a switch in his brain; he sounded alert, now, ready for danger, hungry for revenge. Cee was his family too.

Niccolò turned the ignition, hearing the faint sound of clicking keys on a keyboard; Luca was smart - smart enough to send out anonymous alerts to all their spies, the Romano worms. If anyone saw her, they'd know.

"Ten minutes," Niccolò replies finally, switching the call to Bluetooth, setting his hands free to drive; he screeched out of the car park like a man possessed. "I'm guessing they went by car - but I'm going to circle the streets quickly to check if she's on foot."

"Niccolò?" Luca sounded hesitant - which was never a good sign. "You don't suppose she just...left the date, do you?" Niccolò caught himself, about to lose his temper and drive straight to Luca to beat the living shit out of him.

"No," he replied coldly, his voice deadly cutting, leaving no room for argument. The threat to Luca was implied in his tone; Niccolò heard him swallow.

"Right," Luca managed eventually, sounding a little weak. "I'll get our police on it." Niccolò swung his car sharply around the corner, narrowly missing scraping another driver; if she was on foot, she couldn't have gotten far.

"Send Elias out," Niccolò ordered, calculating the endless possibilities of where the hell she could be. "I don't care what has to be done - get her back."

"I'll add him to the call," Luca responded immediately, hearing the serious tone of the boss's voice. People were going to die that night - Luca was sure of it; no one messed with Camilla Fiero and lived to tell the tale.

As soon as Luca had added Elias to the call, he set his phone aside and focused his attention on his laptop; he'd sent out a warning to the police officers on their payroll: all eyes out for boss's girl. The cops were the easiest to bribe - or blackmail; money was the easiest method, but threatening a few families helped steer some of the police chiefs and detectives in the right direction.

But, judging by the lack of response from the force, Cee hadn't managed to escape her captor/s and run towards the nearest police station.

"Stop by the apartment," Elias suggested, his teasing tone missing for once. "Check - she may have run."

"I want all ears out for any other famiglia activity," Niccolò ordered, the sound of tires screaming on tarmac drowning out his voice for a second. "I'll check Magenta -"

Luca stopped listening, typing out a quick, simple message to his moles; they were everywhere. Drug dealers on the corner of shady streets, hotel staff in rival businesses, teenagers looking to make quick cash - all of them - were sent the same message; find Camilla Fiero.

She may not be on the front pages of magazines or newspapers - like Niccolò had been - but the Romano family knew exactly who she was, and anyone involved with the Romano family, by extension, knew about the Fiero girl who'd crashed into the Romano Don unexpectedly.

"Alert has gone out," Luca informed the call, hearing the roar of Niccolò's engine and the squealing sound of tires buzz faintly down the connection. "If anyone even thinks about Cee, we'll know."

Niccolò, now close to his hotel (by bending the city speed limits considerably), gritted his teeth; not knowing where she could be was infuriating. His angel was gone - his little good luck charm had been taken, and whoever it was would pay.

The car screeched to a halt outside Magenta, Niccolò already half out the car before the car had finished moving; people parted like the Red Sea, guests and employees alike watching with stunned expressions and terror as the Don stormed into his hotel.

The lift had already been fixed, the mirror replaced, but Niccolò barely noticed, almost vibrating with tension as the elevator rose through the floors, one by one. He hated this - hated feeling powerless to help, hated feeling vulnerable. And to think - some random Fiero girl had managed to shift his centre of gravity monumentally, in a few months.

The lift doors slid open smoothly; Niccolò ducked out into his penthouse immediately, already calling her name.

"Camilla," he called, scanning the silhouetted, dark room; the furniture stood barren, lonely and deserted. "Camilla." Niccolò strode through the room, opening first his door to check if she'd somehow managed to get in, and moving towards her bedroom - not that he'd ever allow her to sleep there again. After tonight, he would never let her out of his sight.

Her bedroom was abandoned too, but he flicked on the lights, scanning the room - just in case. He was desperate for her to be there, to suddenly walk out of the bathroom and smile at him like nothing had happened. Niccolò turned, slamming his fist against the wall; he needed her. After a second of breathing heavily, Niccolò finally opened his eyes again, focusing first on his reddened knuckles, and then on calming his heaving shoulders. He was no use to her if he was out of control.

Turning slowly, Niccolò swept the room one last time; but this time, he picked up on something. Flowers, sitting on her desk - flowers he hadn't bought her. Quickly, he lifted them, a small smile spreading across his face at the sight of the small note underneath. His girl was smart.

1, King's Avenue.

For Flo and Angela.

Do not trust S.

Niccolò breathed out, slowly, measured. Part of him wanted to destroy everything in sight - Cee had left deliberately - had planned to leave without telling him - and known where she was going to be taken. The other part of him, the side of him that prioritised getting his sister, employee and his girl back, knew it wasn't important. Not for now. The important part was getting the three girls back, and spilling blood.

Dealing with Camilla's impulsive decision to run away could wait.