"What would you like for dinner today Mr. Enzo?" I asked as he came through the door. His usually well style hair was slightly mussed, and his tie was loose around his neck. It looked like he had a long day.

"It doesn't matter Nora." He barked. Okay, I guess he wasn't in a great mood at the moment. Even though I knew it wasn't about me, I couldn't help but feel that me just existing was annoying him.

I started filling a large pot with water to make an easy pantry pasta. I did most of the cooking since he worked so often. I used to do all of the cooking at uncle's house, and we didn't always have a stocked kitchen, since most of his money went to his addictions. I had learned to get creative with my cooking. Surprisingly enough, uncle had high standards when it came to his food. I pulled ingredients out as quietly as I could, trying to keep from upsetting him again.

I felt him moving behind me, but I didn't look up at him. Though most days we coexisted perfectly, and he was typically very sweet with me. I wasn't used to him being like this with me and I didn't know how to react. Moving in here has been a major adjustment. I had so much freedom here that I didn't know what to do with.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just had a rough day at work." He approached me and tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ear.

"I-It's okay Mr. Enzo." I stuttered, slightly flustered at his touch. It didn't feel okay. My heart was still pounding from when he snapped t me. I just said it was because I thought that would be what he wanted to hear.

"How many times have I said to just call me Enzo?" he smiled, his fingers lingering on my face.

"Probably a hundred by now Mr. Enzo." This elicited a chuckle from him. Now this was more the Mr. Enzo I was expecting.

"What if neither of us cooks tonight baby girl? Let me take you out. We can go to one of my restaurants." He pulled me away from the kitchen counter and twirled me towards him, my hair fanning out around me. Though it was impressive he was the owner of a restaurant, it wasn't surprising.

"I don't mind cooking. You're very tired from work already." I didn't want to be more of a bother than I already weas. It was obvious work had been hard on him, and I didn't want to add anything to his plate.

"I'm never too tired to spend time with my favorite girl." He argued lightly. My heart fluttered as it always did when he called me his girl.

"But you've been working all day- "I began.

"You let me worry about how much I work. Now you go upstairs and put on one of those dresses Rosie bought-I mean brought you." He spun me back around and gave my bottom a pat towards the stairs.

I put my hair up into a simple twist and put on a black, A-line dress. There was nothing I could do to change the way I saw myself. I was still scrawny and battered and ugly, but I thought I looked the least ugly in this dress, and 'least ugly' was the best I could do tonight. It had long sleeves and came down to my knees, so it covered most of the scars that ran across my skin. I finished the outfit with a pair of red shoes with a conservative heel.

I knew Enzo would never look at me romantically, but I had butterflies for some reason. I so desperately wanted him to think I looked pretty. It was ridiculous and I could only blame the fact that at the end of the day, I was still a girl. My hands shook as I descended the stairs to where he was waiting for me. He had fixed his hair and straightened his tie and was looking as handsome as ever.

"Look at you." He took a good look at me and brought my hand to his lips briefly, earning him a blush from me. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to keep other men from looking at you tonight. I suppose I'll just have to kill them." His tone was joking, but I was sure there was some truth in what he was saying. "Come on then."

He pulled the SUV up to a gorgeous restaurant that glowed and exuded wealth and class. Our car was parked by a valet for God's sake. I immediately knew I didn't belong here. Enzo took my hand and led me inside. He fit into this environment completely with his perfectly tailored suit and his handsome face.

I may as well have come in my sweats. It wouldn't have made a difference when I compared myself to the women in this dining hall. They all had beautifully done makeup, and I'd never worn makeup a day in my life. Their dresses were form fitting and showed a lot of skin, and I knew I could never feel comfortable showing that much skin. I wondered if these were the type of woman Enzo would want to be with. Of course, he would prefer any one of these women over you, stupid girl.

Enzo glanced at me curiously, but I kept my eyes trained on my feet. I couldn't stand looking at these women anymore, because I could never be one of them. Enzo had already seen most of my scars and markings on the day he found me, but that didn't mean he should be subjected to looking at them constantly. I could never wear the things they were. I was disgusting to look at. I didn't feel deserving to be around him anymore. He was better than me in every way. He wasn't broken or tainted, and he knew that I was. I would never be good enough for him. My stomach began to ache at this thought. I pulled my hand from his, not wanting to taint him, but he just as quickly grabbed it again, intertwining our fingers.

"Can't have you getting lost baby girl." He grinned.

"Mr. Lorenzo! Welcome. I didn't know you would be dining with us tonight." The host greeted nervously. Any playfulness was gone from Enzo's person now. His face was serious and cold. I couldn't blame the host for sweating with nerves. This must be the face he used at work.

"I would like a private table on the balcony, Jacob." he drawled. The host, Jacob, nodded and lead us through the crowd, to a small, private balcony. It felt like everyone was staring at me, like they could sense I didn't belong here. When we arrived to the balcony, there was an elegantly set table and the wrought iron railing was wrapped in a beautiful ivy that curled at its ends.

Jacob left us to look over the leather-bound menu. I couldn't read half of it, as it was in Italian, and the prices made my heart stop. The longer I spent here, the more uncomfortable I felt. I wasn't supposed to be part of this world. That's because all you're good for is to be your uncle's basement girl. My inner voice's sneering was right of course.

"What's wrong sweetheart? You've been awfully quiet since we got here." I always underestimated his perceptiveness.

I looked up at the sound of his velvety voice. I only saw concern on his face, but knew it was false. He had no reason to be worried about me. I wasn't his responsibility. I didn't matter.

"I just don't know what to order." I mumbled, lamely.

"I can help with that. They have the best pasta di mare here." That's what he ordered for both of us when the waiter came back with our drinks.

"Now, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you my darling girl." He questioned sincerely.

I should have known he hadn't bought my terrible excuse. "I don't know what you're talking about." I lied. I wrung my hands in my lap, like I always did when I was nervous or uncomfortable.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I would much rather you didn't lie to me little girl." He scolded. I stayed silent. My feelings were my own problem, so there was no point in bothering him with them. If I told him, he might realize he was better off without me around. I knew that to be a fact, but I'd like to keep pretending for as long as he let me.

"If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to fix it?" he nudged me gently.

"It's not your job to fix me." I whispered. I was too broken anyways. He just stared at me but didn't push anymore. Soon our food arrived, and I was free to stay quiet with the excuse of being engrossed in my food. It was delicious, just as he said it would be.

She looked so beautiful, but I knew if I told her that, she wouldn't believe me. The way the waiter's eyes lingered on her confirmed I wasn't the only one to notice. It made me want to slit his throat, but I knew if I showed any anger, it would upset her, so I tamped down any rage I had at the thought of this boy looking at my girl.

She had been acting so strangely since we pulled up to the restaurant. I couldn't figure out why, but I wasn't going to force her into telling me anything. I would wait until she was comfortable talking to me freely. She didn't need another man act as dictator over her.

As beautiful as she was, I wished I could replace her sad expression with a happy one. I wished I could take away all of her hurt and I silently promised I would kill anyone who ever tried to hurt her again.

The cool night breeze washed over us, and a few strands of her hair escaped the twist she had put it in. They framed her face softly and she just sat there, unaware of the hold she had over me.

I was happy to see she was eating with enthusiasm at least. That was one of the only things I insisted upon with her. She had gotten better at eating without having to take breaks during meals and her once gaunt cheeks were filling out nicely. I worried about her health and desperately wanted to get her checked out by a doctor, but she had out right refused. She never fought me on anything and was always trying so hard to please me, when she said no to the doctor, I knew something serious was going on. As soon as I mentioned the word 'doctor', I could see her begin to shut down on me. There was nothing I could do to change her past. I just had to be patient and show her that she could trust me.

When we finished eating, I walked over to her side of the table and pulled her to her feet. "Dance with me."

"I don't know how to dance." She admitted quietly. She played with her fingers, something I noticed she does when she's nervous. It was clear she thought she should be embarrassed about not being able to dance, but it just excited me to be able to use this as an opportunity to get close to her.

We swayed to the ambient music that flowed out from the French doors leading to the main dining hall. Her small hands were gripping at my lapel, keeping me close. I loved holding her like this. We were still working on her apprehension to physical contact, so I was always cautious with how much affection I showed her. The last thing I wanted was for her to be afraid of me. "Talk to me baby. Just tell me one thing about you. Something you wouldn't tell just anyone." I encouraged her. Her hazel eyes grew wide with vulnerability. "Let me in just a little bit."

True to her character, she didn't meet my eyes, but she finally spoke. "I'm very afraid when I'm not around you." She admitted. "I only truly feel safe when we're like this. I'm afraid someone is going to take you from me or take me from you."

I pulled her head to rest on my chest and held her as close as I could. I couldn't remember my hardened heart ever feeling like this before. This girl was able to draw out feelings from me that I didn't know I could feel. I pressed my lips to her forehead, pouring all of the emotions I was feeling into that one kiss. I so hoped she could feel them.

"I would never let anything short of death separate us my love." I vowed. "Any maybe not even then."

I suppose the universe had a sick sense of humor that relied on ironic timing because as I finished that sentence, a bullet whizzed past my left ear and embedded itself into the concrete wall behind us.