"This isn't the file I asked for."

"Hm?"

"I said this isn't the file I asked for." William repeated in an exasperated tone.

"You said the pink file." I argued.

"You must have developed severe colour blindness over the past two days then." He said drily and my eyes finally dipped to scan the file in question. It was green.

"Oh," I bit my lip guiltily, "sorry, I'll go get the right one."

"Wait," he stopped me. Leaning back in his chair, he slowly assessed me, "you've been miles away all day, what's wrong?"

I arrived late, of course but Lilian wasn't in and William had come in even later. I almost missed when he actually walked in because my mind was occupied with various thoughts of: my sister, our parents, lawyers, divorces, alimonies, prisons and painful executions. I'd indeed been miles away all day.

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

"Is it your landlord or the investigations?" He stood up and walked over to me.

Looking up at him, the patient look in his eyes almost made me want to spill everything but I just shook my head, "I'm fine, really."

He sat on the edge of the desk then casually ran a hand through his hair. My fingers suddenly tingled and the memory of me running my hands through the same hair Saturday afternoon appeared forefront in my mind. I blinked it away.

"Are you sure?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mmhm," I nodded, "I'll go get the right file now."

"Okay." He finally conceded.

When I picked up the green file from the desk, the pink file he needed became much clearer in my mind's eye and I groaned.

"What?" William still perched on the edge of his desk, turned his head to ask.

"You don't happen to need that file today, do you?" I smiled nervously.

"Before 5 pm precisely, why?" He eyed me dubiously.

"I may have taken it home yesterday and left it in my bag and brought a different bag today." I wrung my fingers together.

"You are probably the worst employee I've ever come across."

"Becoming a personal assistant was hardly my vision when I started working here and besides, clerical work doesn't even suit me anyway." I harrumphed.

"No, it doesn't." He smiled and the depth of it nearly knocked me off my feet.

I cleared my throat.

He stood up, "let's go then."

"Go where?"

"Your apartment."

"You'll drive me there?"

"Well if you'd rather go alone—"

"Give me five minutes." I smiled shamelessly before he could finish. The deep sound of his chuckle followed me as I left his office. Exactly five minutes later, he was out and I was shutting a drawer.

"Where's Heather?"

"I think she went to the kitchen."

He checked the watch on his wrist, "text her we're going out and she's in charge."

"Hey, I'd like to be in charge one of these days." I said and he snorted.

"Like I would ever leave my company in the hands of someone who hates clerical work."

"I don't hate it, it just doesn't suit me and I said clerical work, not CEO work." I smirked.

He tilted his head a bit, looking me over then smiled. "I could certainly imagine you in that chair." The glint in his eye told me he was imagining much more than me sitting and signing contracts. I shot laser eyes at him and his teasing grin widened.

Minutes later, in the quiet—he absolutely refused to let me turn on the radio—of William's car, I finally let myself remember our conversation from Saturday night over the phone. I didn't want to be curious but damn if I wasn't. Still thinking along that line, I blurted out my next words, "what did you mean by complications the other night?"

"I can't tell you." He responded after a few seconds of prolonged silence.

"Why not?"

"Omertà."

"Omertà? Isn't that a code of silence for the—" I paused then rolled my eyes, "a code of silence for the mafia. I see what you did there, nice try." I said recalling my halfassed accusations about his involvement with the mafia.

"But you were right." His eyes momentarily shifted from the road and met mine meaningfully before returning his gaze frontward again.

"I was just joking that night. Do you really expect me to believe you're in the mafia? That's ridiculous. Who'd let you in?" I said scoffing.

"It sounds ridiculous right?" He chuckled and the mellowness of his voice abruptly made me give the ridiculous notion a second thought.

"You, are you really in the mafia?" I asked then shook my head, "no way, that's impossible."

The car came to a stop and I noticed we were already in front of my apartment building. He faced me and released an audible exhale before finally nodding.

"How is that possible?" I asked disbelievingly although his whole demeanour already made the hairs on my skin stand.

"It's the family business."

"The family business?"

He nodded once, "I came across my mother's side of the family by chance last year on a business trip to Italy. I don't know if you remember but she was Italian and eloped with my father to come here to America so I knew nothing of her family except her maiden name."

"I remember." I murmured.

"Well after confirming they really were my mother's family, I spent a week at the family Villa with all my uncles, aunties and cousins. They all hinted at some kind of important family business during the course of the week but it wasn't until I was about to leave, my mother's brother, my Uncle Armani finally told me what the business was about."

"The mafia?" I asked warily and he nodded again.

"Turns out, he's actually a very powerful Italian mafia don and wants me to take over from him soon." He finished grimly.

"To t-take over?" I stuttered.

"Yes, now Ophelia will you become my regina?"

"Your regina?" I repeated dumbly.

"Hm, my queen. Become my queen and move back to Italy with me." He reached over the gear panel and held my hands up.

I gaped at him, wide eyed and tongue tied but before I could regain my speech or senses, the serious and solemn expression on his face broke into one of laughter and mirth. It was then I realised it. The asshole had just totally played me.

"You are so unbelievable William!" I hit his shoulder in annoyance while he continued to laugh.

"Or did you really want to become my mafia queen and run away to Italy?" He grinned lopsidedly.

"You wish, kingpin." I scoffed and quickly opened the car door then stepped out.

"I really did find my mom's family."

Halting my steps to the entrance of my apartment building, I turned to see him out of the car, resting his arms against the top and wearing a softer smile.

"You did?"

"Yes. It actually was last year, after Mark and I decided to extend our stay in Italy to go wine tasting across some provinces. It was in one of the villas of the vineyard owners I saw a painting of my mom hung on the wall. I do have an Uncle Armani, the owner of the vineyard. It was quite a reunion." He smiled soberly.

"That's amazing," a genuine smile appeared on my lips, "has Erin met them yet?"

"Not yet, maybe next year. I wonder how she'll fare though, it's quite a big family, much bigger than what we are used to." His unguarded smile made me think of a different time from now.

***

7 years ago...

"There's no way you were the bad boy in high school Will. Most bad boys are all grouchy and moody. You're all happy and warm."

It was another one of those Sundays we spent mostly in his bed mostly laughing, making out and cuddling. It was quickly becoming one of my favourite pastimes.

He smiled before his expression turned a bit somber, "I wasn't always this warm and happy. Once upon a time, my nickname was the dark cloud."

We randomly fell into the topic of highschool personas and after admitting my role as the preppy blonde cheerleader, he had a good laugh before confessing he'd been the resident bad boy. A confession I was finding extremely hard to believe.

"The dark cloud? Really?" I shifted my position so I could see him better.

"After our parents passed away, Erin and I went to live with the only other family we knew, uncle Mike and aunt Helena. Barely a year a later, aunt Helena lost her battle with cancer. The months after that were really shitty and we all dealt with our griefs differently. Erin hardly understood the concept of death but knew just like our parents, our aunt was never coming back. Uncle Mike just lost his wife and had to figure out how to raise two kids by himself."

"And you?" I asked softly, "how did you deal with yours?"

"I didn't, not in the way I should have anyway. I missed my aunt and my parents even more. It felt like old wounds that hadn't completely healed had been reopened and I desperately wanted that pain to stop. I didn't want to feel anything anymore so I decided to just stop feeling altogether. I thought there was no need for happiness if it was going to be taken away anyway," He shrugged but his dark eyes seemed to go darker with emotion, most likely reminiscing the past.

I knew about the losses Will experienced as a child but not entirely of the pain or how he'd dealt with them.

Saying I properly understood grief and grieving would be a lie. Only distant relatives, with minimal connections between us, had really passed away in my family. But I knew it had to be a hard, painful and life changing experience even to lose a loved one. Just the mere thought of losing my parents or friends or Will or even my sister terrified me deeply.

So I envisioned an eleven year old Will desperately trying to deal with the losses, how everything could have changed and shaped his mindset. I thought of his uncle and sister as well but could only mentally sympathise with them now.

Wordlessly, I shifted again and wrapped my arm around his torso, burying my face into his chest. His arms came around me, holding me tighter against him and we maintained our position for a few seconds until I tilted my head back up and spoke again. "When did you finally move on from everything and what changed?"

"Well first, it wasn't like the way movies pitch it, it wasn't some girl who saved me." He smirked and I laughed.

"I thought I moved on when I was thirteen but moving on has a lot to do with acceptance. So it was at seventeen I really moved on from everything. That was when my resolve to remain unfeeling to life was shaken but it took years of heated arguments with my uncle and his near death experience to get that point of acceptance." A rueful smile showed on his lips.

I drew comforting circles on his chest, "what happened?"

"A car accident midway through my junior year in highschool. Before then, we almost never got along. We argued everyday about everything. My drinking, smoking, fighting, drugs, nonchalance, everything. I knew I was a mess but I didn't care. I just wanted to live without really living. My uncle always went on about how it was better to live and love than to live and regret not loving. To me then, his words were pure bullshit." He laughed and I smiled lightly. It was hard to imagine he and his uncle ever being at odds. They were all so close knit now. I smiled again.

"It wasn't until I was standing outside his operating room, remembering the day my parents died and the day my aunt died, that his words finally hit home. I was scared, for him and for me. It was also then I realised how selfish I really was. Over the years I only thought of me. Never of my uncle who always worried about me. Not of my little sister who just wanted to bond with her big brother. Just me. I realised then too, that I was scared, of loss and the pain that came with it. I really thought if I didn't form any bonds, I'd be fine. A big lie and delusion because standing there, all I felt was that pain. I nearly went mad with regret thinking if something happened to him, our last words to each other would be an exchange in one of our arguments."

My eyes softened as I imagined a seventeen year old Will trying to confront everything at that moment.

"It was Christmas eve that night and I remember crying and praying for some kind of Christmas miracle to happen, praying for my uncle to survive and promising to start over and be better. Longest six hours of my life, waiting outside that operating room with Erin for news." He smiled somberly. "But I eventually got my miracle and hearing he was going to be okay made me the happiest I'd been in years."

"And everything changed from there on," I stated more than asked.

"It was gradual and hard as hell but I was going to keep my promise no matter what. I had my setbacks but by graduation, I was in a pretty good place. I'd accepted loss for what it was, unavoidable. There was also the mantra my uncle drilled into me, 'instead of isolating yourself and running away, you need to cherish every moment alive. So when the inevitable eventually happens there'll be no regrets'." He breathed out then turned to me and smiled.

"I'm so proud of you." I traced his cheek.

"Don't get all teary on me now babe." He laughed then pulled me on top of him.

"Who says I'm teary? Must be a draught in the room or something."

"A draught?" He continued laughing.

"Mmhm, a draught." I nodded with fake solemnity then smiled teasingly. "You wore those awfully tight leather pants, didn't you?"

"I did not wear tight leather pants."

"Liar, I bet they're in here somewhere." I giggled.

"You'll never find them," he pulled me down to his chest, locking me in and trapping me against the rhythm of his beating heart.

***