I woke up to a different smell. It was rich and made a smile spread across my face as I snuggled up to the pillow. Everything felt different. It wasn't the flannelette sheets I was use too. They were smooth and felt like silk, like my pjs. It wasn't the only thing that felt different.

My eyes slowly opened to a different room. It was a lot bigger than my room. A lot bigger. It was different to the other rooms in the house that were filled with white. Instead it was different shades of grey. Starting with the bed. It was a king size and I was right about the silky sheets. They were white with a black cover. I was buried amongst the white, grey and black pillows and the mattress was even more comfortable than mine. Like in my room, there was a wall of windows that was covered by thick grey curtains that blocked out any light. At the end of the bed was a grey lounge that matched the bed frame and a coffee table was in front of that. Along the wall was a white floating TV cabinet that held a flat screen TV. Damn, why didn't my room have one of those? To my left was a wardrobe that was camouflage and a door that probably led to a bathroom.

Very quickly, my mind began to remember the events of yesterday and last night. Patrick took me to his brothel where I found out his men's backstories. He then took me to Egor Volkov's office where I saw the business man Patrick in action. We had a fight which ended with him revealing the real reason behind our marriage and the death of my mother. With my brain in chaos, I might have accused Oscar Maestri of only setting this marriage up for his own personal reasons. In my defence, Patrick didn't deny that he wasn't capable of something like this. The fight ended with Patrick and I being shot at, always fun, before he took me back to my bathroom. We shared an intimate moment where he walked out like nothing happened. And finally, the day ended with me spending the night in his bed. Oh my God, Zoey was going to die when I tell her this. That's if my heart didn't give out first.

My body fell back amongst the pillows, wondering how long it would take before everything went to hell today. I guess there was only one way to find out.

Groaning, I slipped out of bed and made my way to the door. When I stepped out in the hall, I suddenly realized that all I wore was my pjs and suddenly felt the need to cover myself. Damn, Patrick saw me in these last night. I wasn't even wearing a bra. I groaned again, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. What the hell had gotten into me last night?

After a quick shower, I got changed into some black shorts and a loose shirt that hung off my right shoulder. The last touch was my neckless that was never truly far away from my grip. I let my hair dry naturally knowing that it would look relatively okay once my curls had a bit more bounce.

Taking in a deep breath, I tried to prepare myself for today.

I froze when I got to the stairs, it wasn't the smashed up study doors or even the glass that still seemed to be everywhere. It was the people. They were pacing and talking in the void like little ants not paying much attention to me. I felt violated, having so many strangers in my home.

When I spied Garrick, speaking with two other men, I ran down the stairs to meet him.

"Garrick! Garrick!" I called, running across the void.

He turned around and spied me before saying something to the guys to make them go away.

"Hey," he said lightly, like he didn't even notice everyone buzzing around him, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said, not feeling it, "Who are all these people?"

Looking around him, he answered, "Some are cleaners. The bullets really messed up the study. They're putting in new glass for the doors."

"That's great," I said, not meaning it, "What about the others?"

"Patrick's security."

My eyes widened at his answer. Patrick had a lot of security.

"Somehow, a shooter got in without our knowledge. Now we're trying to improve our security system and find out who it was," he explained.

"Why haven't we had more security before?" I asked.

Garrick shrugged, "We didn't think we needed any. There was always someone out the front of the house and there was five of us inside, plus the gate, we didn't think anyone would try. Last night changed everything."

I nodded, understanding though I still didn't know how I felt about that. I could handle having the five guys here, but now there was a whole army. At my old home, the security didn't really bother me. But then again, no one ever shot at my father's home. Slowly, I could feel a cold shield forming around me. Something only trust could break. And at this very moment, I didn't trust anybody.

"Don't worry, Lizzy," Garrick reassured me, "It won't be forever. Just until we catch this guy and we already have leads."

Somehow, that didn't reassure me. No matter how much I wanted it too.

"Where's Patrick?" I asked, suddenly having this need to speak to him.

"In the kitchen," Garrick told me, "He's actually looking for you."

I frowned, "why?"

He sighed, looking toward the dining room doors, "You better talk to him."

Great, it seriously took ten minutes for everything to shoot to hell. And I bet it would only take one for the memory of the sweet Patrick to disappear and be replaced with the ass that I knew.

I found him where Garrick said he was, in the kitchen with Mrs Philips and Nickola. When Nickola spied me, his reaction was different to Patrick's who remained frozen at the kitchen bench.

"Oh, Lizzy, how are you?" he asked, pacing over to me and wrapping his arms around me.

I couldn't help but giggle, hugging him back. We didn't get a chance to talk last night.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I groaned, as we broke, "Thanks for asking."

"No worries," he laughed, his smile spreading across his face.

"Well, I think you deserve a coffee after last night," Mrs Philips stated, moving over to the kettle.

My eyes landed on Patrick as he drunk his coffee, his eyes on nothing but me. I figured he would bring up whatever he wanted to talk to me about. It turns out, Patrick wanted me too.

"So, Garrick said you wanted to talk to me," I stated tapping the island bench, "Is it about the security?"

He shook his head taking a last mouth full.

"Is it about last night," I asked, trying not to give anything away about us spending the night together.

But I feared he regretted it. Regretted getting close to me. He gave me a, come on look, like my question couldn't be more stupid.

"Remember the thing that we talked about yesterday?" he asked.

I frowned, "Which part?"

"The Mafia part. Remember what I said about the Italian Mafia?" he questioned.

I nodded, "Yeah, there's four families."

"Good, I called a meeting with them in half n hour," he stated, placing the mug down.

"What?" I yelled, shocked.

All I wanted to do today was sleep or at least hang out by the pool. I didn't want to go to some meeting.

"Do I have to go?" I asked, wanting to get out of it.

He gave me that, come on look again, "Of course you're coming, you're my wife. And you represent the Uccello family."

"Well, won't my father be there?" I asked.

He nodded.

"There, he's represents the Uccello family too. He can take my place," I turned, aiming to escape.

Arms wrapped around me, causing me to groan, "Uh-ah, no way. You're coming, even if that is just to make sure you're safe."

"You have a whole army of security in this house. If there was any place where I was safe, don't you think it would be here?" I growled, annoyed that he had once again trapped me just by the use of his arms.

"I don't want to take the chance."

There it was again. That scared tone in his voice. His vulnerability showing through. I relaxed in his grip, resting against his body.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, letting go of me and allowing me to stand on my own two feet, "You better dress in something more suitable."

I frowned, turning around to see if he was serious, looking down at myself.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, not hiding that I was insulted.

"It's not suitable," he stated like he didn't even realize what he was saying.

"He means, that it's not suitable for a meeting with the Italian Mafia," Nickola spoke up, knowing that I was just about to yell.

Patrick glared back at him which he took like a man.

"Come on Honey," Mrs Philips said, coming around from the bench over to me, "Let's go find something."

I had never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life. This pant suit didn't even fit me right. The jacket was too big, the shirt was too small and the pants hugged my hips way too much for my comfort.

"Stop moving," Patrick groaned, finally hitting breaking point.

"I can't," I moaned, "This pant suit doesn't fit me right."

"Well, stop moving," he repeated more clearly this time, "We're almost there."

"Where is there?" I asked, frustrated.

"A high raise in the city. It was built for meetings as a natural place. None of the families have an advantage there so it's perfect for meetings like these," he stated.

"And what is this meeting about exactly?" I asked him, realizing that I didn't really know.

"Someone shot at us last night. Whether or not you were the target or I was the target or if even the both of us were, this shooter probably isn't alone. Now, with my men and my contacts, I can probably track down the shooter but I don't know if I can track down the person he's working with. The other families might be able to," he explained.

"And what if he wasn't working alone?" I questioned.

Patrick shrugged, "We'll know soon enough."

In less than five minutes, we reached the high raise. There were already two black cars out the front, one I recognised. It was my father's car. Just as a smile spread across my face I remembered all the things he had kept from me. The real reason behind my mother's death, the true reason why I had to marry Patrick, Sebastian Drago. Now I really didn't want to be here.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked as we both stood on the side walk outside the building.

"My father's here," I mumbled, my voice barely recognisable.

He frowned, "isn't that a good thing?"

I looked at him, trying not to hide the sadness in my eyes. His mouth made an O, when he quickly connected the dots.

Nodding, he took my arm and led me into the building. It had a similar floor plan to Egor Volkvo's building with a reception when you first walked in and a waiting room to the left. He led me through to the elevator, hitting the top button once we were inside.

"Are you going to tell me to be quiet like before?" I asked, getting a sense of Déjà vu.

He shook his head, "No, not this time."

I frowned, "Why? What's so different now?"

He shrugged, "I know you a little better now."

My frown deepened.

Ding

The elevator opened up to the large office that held a large oval table that could seat about twenty people. It was the only piece of furniture in here, telling me that there was only one purpose for this room. The meeting. It was covered by windows with a city view that some people would just die for.

Pappa was already here like I had guess and so was a woman that I didn't recognise.

"Lizzy," Pappa cried, pacing over to us.

He wrapped me in his arms like he used to, but I didn't feel the comfort.

"Lizzy, God, I've been so worried," he said, sounding truthful, as he kissed the top of my head.

He took a step back, taking me in. He could read me like a book and knew that something was wrong.

"Darling, what's the matter?" he asked me, cupping my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to tell him, but I couldn't. I couldn't trust him.

"It was a long night," Patrick told him, sensing my inability to speak, "She's just tired."

Pappa took his hands off me, his stare now on Patrick, "You gave me your word that you would take care of her."

"And I did," Patrick growled, furious that he was being blamed for something he had no control over.

"If that was the case then she wouldn't –."

"Gentleman!" the woman yelled, stopping them before their argument got out of hand, "Now is not the time. You may scream at each other once the others get here."

Patrick and my father both glared at the woman, annoyed by her interference. She just hung her head back and laughed, her fingers running along the edge of the table.

She was beautiful though. She had dark brown hair that curled at the ends matching her olive skin. She wore a nice grey pant suit that fitted her a lot better than mine did.

"Eliza," Patrick started, "This is Paige Caivano."

Oh crap. She was one powerful woman. I had heard about her a couple of times before from my father. She owned most of the casinos in New York and delved in drugs as well. I really didn't want to get on her bad side.

"The last time we met, you were just a teenager," she said, coming around to our side of the table, "Look at you now."

I frowned, I didn't realize I had actually met her before. My father's home was always filled with people I didn't know. They all just flooded to the back of my head. At this very moment, I wish I had paid more attention.

"The Queen that we have all been waiting for."

My head shot towards the elevator doors where Oscar and a man that I was guessing was Harald Balboni, stood. My blood began to boil at the sight of that smug bastard. The very reason I was here.

Just as I took a step towards him, Patrick's voice stopped me, "Great, now that everyone is here. Let's get started."

We all found our seats around the table. Me next to a standing Patrick, my father two seats from my left, then my liar of a father-in-law and then the other two family heads.

"As you know, my mansion was hit last night by a solo shooter. By the evidence, I do not think he was working alone," Patrick started, sounding just as scary at the others though he was much younger.

"How do you know?" Harald asked, swinging on his chair, looking very relaxed.

"Do you know anyone with a death wish?" Patrick questioned, making my eyes widened.

What ever happened to respect? Harald eyes hardened, furious that Patrick was making a fool out of him.

"Why wasn't your mansion properly secured?" Paige asked, looking him in the same way.

She clearly didn't see the dangerous man I saw but a young foolish boy.

"I thought it was," he growled.

"With what? Your five body guards?" she questioned, "rooky error."

"Your assessment of me is not the reason why I called this meeting," Patrick snarled, making me sink further into my chair.

"What is this meeting about?" Oscar asked, turning Patrick's eyes cold.

"I need help finding his other partner. My resources can only go so far," he admitted, making Paige laugh.

"Of course, you truly are your father's son," she giggled, winning a death stare from Patrick and Oscar.

"Look, I'm not asking this for my own safety!" Patrick shouted.

Before I realized, everyone's eyes were on me. Oh crap, not embarrassing at all.

After a few moments of silence, Paige asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"Not just you, all of you. Ask around. See if anyone wanted to hit us personally, or if it was just a new person in town wanting to take out a Mafia family," Patrick ordered, "I'll be in all of your debts if you do this."

And just like that everyone was on board.

After a few moments of silence for thinking, it was clear that we were done. The six of us stood, Patrick shaking their hands. Patrick could read my face and the need I felt to leave. I didn't want to speak to my father or hear Oscar's praises.

He led me back into the elevator but we weren't that lucky enough to be alone. Paige and Harald stayed behind to chat as Oscar and Pappa shared the elevator with us.

"Are you okay, Darling?" Pappa asked, as I stayed close to Patrick.

The scary thing was, my ass of a husband was the only person I felt safe around now.

I didn't answer him, mainly because I didn't know how to answer. Do I lie and say that everything was fine? Or tell the truth? Either way, I didn't have the heart to say anything.

"Of course she's okay," Oscar praised making me roll my eyes, "she's stronger then she looks."

Ding

The doors were barely opened when I escaped them.

"Eliza!" Patrick yelled after me as the three of them followed me out of the elevator.

I paced out of the building and onto the street. I felt a hand take my arm. It could have been Patrick, it could have been my father. But it wasn't. Not thinking twice, I swung my hand. I bit back the burning pain in my still hurt palms as I looked upon a furious Oscar, his eyes cold and dark.

"The next time you send a pig to the slaughter, make sure she doesn't know how to bite back," I growled the rage building up inside until I spied my father's face, "And that goes for you too!"

I turned and headed for the car. I watched behind the safety of tinted windows as our two fathers tore strips off Patrick.

"What does she mean by that? What the hell have you done?" Oscar yelled at his son.

"I told her the truth, something you should have done," Patrick growled, pointing at my Pappa.

Pappa stepped forward to challenge Patrick, but Oscar got in between, pointing at Patrick.

"You get her under control," Oscar growled.

"Is that a threat?"

"If you need it to be."

Patrick's eyes narrowed, hardening, "She is my wife. I'll do what I want with her."