As I woke up, I stirred in the silkiest sheets I've ever felt in my life. I snuggled farther into them. However, before I found confort, pain erupted in my side, and my head started to pound. I groaned and rolled over. It still hurt.

I slowly got out of bed, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a different room than my own. The memories of last night flooding back.

I'm so screwed. Nobody messes with the mafia king, and now I have. I'm so dead. Sure, he helped me yesterday, but that was most likely due to the fact I helped him before. I have to get out of here before he kills me.

I started to make my way down the hall and stairs, as quietly as I could. The pain in my head and side weren't helping very much. I slowly roamed around downstairs and surveyed the rooms before walking in.

After a few minutes of searching, I found it. I carefully made my way to the front door, cautious of making noise.

Just as I reached for the door knob, one arm wrapped around my waist and a hand grabbed mine.

"What do you think you're doing?" A deep voices sounded in my ear. The arm on my waist pulled me around to face him, but that caused pain to erupt through my side. I yelped and flinched away from the arm. He instantly wrapped his arm around my shoulders instead.

"Come with me." He commanded. His silver eyes held a power that told me not to argue. I gulped and started to follow him, nervousness growing in the pit of my stomach.

He led us to a kitchen. "Sit." He pointed to a stool near a kitchen island. I slowly made my way to the stool in fear of making sudden movements that could make him kill me.

I stared down at my hands, twirling my fingers around each other, in fear of what was to come. I heard shuffling and drawers being opened, but I didn't want to look up.

"Take this." I looked slightly higher to see two pills and a glass of water. "They're only pain relievers, you have my word."

For some reason, I felt as if I could trust him. He doesn't seem like the type of person to lie to someone about pills. I slowly took them and mumbled a thanks, looking down the whole time.

"Look at me." He demanded. I hesitantly raised my gaze to connect my blue eyes with his silver ones.

"I can't have you go running through the streets yelling about murder and what the mafia king looks like, so you'll have to stay here for a bit." I was disappointed to hear that. Even though it wasn't perfect, I loved where I lived. It made me feel at home, and it's true what they say: once you have a taste of Manhattan, you can never leave it. I assumed I'm still in Manhattan, but I also assumed I couldn't go outside to see the lovely streets, buildings, and parks.

"I also can't have you sit around doing nothing. I already have enough maids. Hmm...what can I have you do?" He looked around the kitchen, thinking. His gaze landed on a box of take-out. "Can you cook?"

"I can...just not that well." I mumbled. My cooking was fine honestly. I just don't like to overestimate my talents.

"Well then, you'll cook. I eat breakfast at 8:00 am and dinner at 7:00 pm. Have the food done by then. See you tonight for dinner." With that he left. I let out a sigh of relief. He's not going to kill me. Yet.

I checked the time to see it was around noon, so I made my up to my new bedroom and settled in. I saw the closet has been filled with my clothes. Where the hell did he get my clothes? He probably knows where I live. I felt like someone was watching me after I left him in the alley. I should have known. I went into the bathroom to see all my hygiene products there too. I noticed some of the cheaper products I buy like razors and shaving cream have been replaced with more expensive, better versions.

Wait. If he went through my appartement, surely he must have found it. Besides the necklace I always wear, it's my most valuable possession. I have this journal I write in occasionally, and it has all my personal thoughts in it, things about people in my life, the life lessons I learned, and my out look on the world. Everything about me and how my mind works is in that journal. I have to find it.

I spent the next couple of hours turning the bedroom upside down trying to find it and then cleaning everything up. It wasn't here. He must have it. I'll just have to get it back.

Once it was time to cook something for him, I didn't know what to make. I didn't know what this guy likes. What if I make something horrible and he kills me? Okay. Breathe. I'll just make a little bit of everything. I'll call it the sampler.

Once I finished making everything, I added the small portions onto the plate— tomato mozzarella salad, pesto pasta, tomato pasta, green leaf salad, garlic bread, chicken stir fry, steak, and a side of grapes.

I heard footsteps walking into the room. I glanced up to see him sitting down on a stool. I picked up the plate and set it down in front of him along with a glass of water and utensils.

"I didn't know what to make so I made a small portion of a couple different things." I mumbled. I turned around and was about to walk upstairs, but his voice stopped me.

"Where are you going? Sit with me." He commanded. I slowly walked back to him and took a seat next to him. While he ate, I stared at my hands again, feeling uncomfortable at the silence.

Once he was finally done, I glanced up to him.

"Everything was fine. Make whatever you want next time; I'll eat it." With that, he walked right out of the room, leaving his dish in the sink. I walked over to it and cleaned it.

As I laid in bed, I started thinking. How long will I be here? What if it's forever? It doesn't seem he wants to kill me because if he did, I would already be dead. What does he want with me?

Well whatever it is, it shouldn't be too bad. I'm not dead, and he's not hurting me, so it can't really be that bad to live with the sexy mafia king for a bit.

Wait. Did I just call him sexy? Okay. I defiantly can't think about him like that.

What should I make him for breakfast? I'll figure it out in the morning.

I reached over to my alarm clock and set it for 7:00 am, and drifted off to sleep.