"-and now," she huffed to Stefano, who was grinning, "I've got to dress up and go to dinner with him!"

Stefano covered a snigger with a cough, lifting his hand to his face to mask his smile. "You'll have a wonderful date," he repeated for the seventh time. She shot him a glare. "It's not a date."

"Don't let him hear you say that," he joked, leaning against the greenhouse bench.

Cee sat next to him, sighing to herself. Her decision to avoid Romano as much as possible wasn't going to plan.

How could she even begin to consider forgiving him? What he did was literal torture - mental and physical - she felt like she was going to die. She wanted to die.

But he got you out, her mind whispered, he saved you. Cee blinked, shaking her head roughly, the words 'Stockholm syndrome' running through her head.

"I don't think I could date a man who tortures innocent people," she mumbled, mostly to herself - but Stefano heard her sharply honest words anyway.

"But you weren't innocent," he pointed out, setting the book he was scanning back down on the table. "Not to him, anyway." Cee gave him an incredulous look.

"You have to be joking."

"No, no, hear me out." Stefano sat up a little straighter, ignoring Cee's hovering hands, waiting to help. "Boss believed you were a spy, right?"

"Yes..." She had no idea where he was going with this.

"And that you'd just helped to kill tens of his men." Cee blinked uncertainly, hunching her shoulders uncomfortably.

"Yes."

"He was trying to protect his family, he was angry. It's not my place to question Mr Romano, but even if I had the choice, I would back every decision he makes." Stefano's expression was firm, his jaw set determinedly.

"That's loyal of you," Cee said carefully, trying not to offend him - and failing.

"You're not understanding." Grumpy Stefano had returned; he huffed and shifted so that his back was towards her.

"I just don't see how- how his- these punishments," Cee struggled to choose the right words, "I don't see how they solve everything."

"Not everyone is kind," Stefano replied distantly, "Mr Romano is not a kind man."

"You can say that again," she muttered under her breath, casting her eyes to the floor. He smiled knowingly, patting her arm with his good hand.

"Mr Romano may not be a kind man," he stated, "but he does what's right for his family. He would die for me."

Cee sat in silence, deep in thought. She was scared of Romano, like a mouse was terrified of a cat, and he was toying with her. Asking her to dinner wouldn't take away her fear, asking her to dinner wasn't to his benefit, aside from the negotiations-

She blinked. The negotiations between the Romanos and her family. That was all this was about. Cee frowned, her heart rate slowing down; was she disappointed? No: relieved, that was all.

"Don't you have work to get to?" she asked, slightly more snappish than usual; Stefano gave her a reproachful look, and she immediately felt guilty. "Sorry."

"Actually," Stefano mentioned, looking down at his legs as they dangled off of the bench, "I am working." Cee blinked, confused. He grinned at her. "I'm your personal security now."

7:23. Was she nervous? Was it too early to go down? Maybe she should change her earrings-

7:24. It wasn't even a date. It was just about negotiations. Maybe she hadn't dressed up enough - it was only a simple dress, and she wasn't even wearing heels - would the restaurant have a sexist dress code that required heels?

7:25.

Cee smoothed her palms over her dress, watching herself uneasily in the mirror. She looked too young, too naive - she should change. The pastel blue only emphasised how pale she'd become recently- she glanced at the clock: it was too late to change now.

For god's sake, Cee, she told herself, get a grip.

7:26. Show time.

Cee glared at herself in the mirror; she'd been counting down the minutes for too long, and it had increased the anxious flutter in her lungs. She was definitely nervous - especially after the last dinner had gone so spectacularly wrong - but it was different this time. She could feel her dynamic with Niccolò shifting, the power balance changing; he'd seen her vulnerable now. He knew her fears, exploited them - she'd never wanted to throw away the gift of life before, but in that cellar-

Cee cut off her line of thought with a shake of her head, closing her bedroom door behind her and wandering slowly down the corridor. Everything in the Romano House was perfect, of course, but it was beginning to become almost comforting now; it felt safer than when she had arrived.

Maybe it felt safer because of new friends, because of Luca and Flo, and maybe it felt safer because she knew she wasn't in the basement.

Niccolò was waiting at the foot of the stairs for her, as expected; he looked different. Good different. Cee felt her breath catch in her throat; he looked sinfully good.

Gone was his usual suit; instead, a button-up shirt that matched his dark curls - it emphasised his tan and hugged to every inch of his sculpted chest and biceps (sleeves rolled up to the elbows, of course). The usual cold look on his face had melted; he looked...normal.

Or at least as normal as a dangerously beautiful man could look.

She caught his gaze, noting his amused expression, and realised, to her horror, that he had completely noticed her checking him out. He offered her his arm, like a true gentleman, and said nothing, but his slight dangerous smile said it all.

Cee slipped her arm through his hesitantly, noting that he could snap her arm like a twig if he chose, but stayed silent as he escorted her outside.

To her surprise, there was no driver waiting in the car, nor was it the usual sleek black car she'd grown used to. A red one. It looked old. There was a Ferrari emblem on the front.

"No driver?" she couldn't help asking nervously as she followed him down the steps, taking care not to trip over her own feet. He simply looked at her for a second with his blank, dark eyes, holding open the passenger door for her. She avoided his gaze and climbed into the car, feeling her cheeks burn.

He settled into the driver's seat beside her, closing his door and making her jump. "I don't mix business with pleasure," he replied vaguely, turning his key in the car. The engine rumbled to life, purring softly; she was right - the car was old, but it had aged like fine wine, with plenty of care.

Cee listened to the crunch of gravel as Romano slowly drove down the twisting driveway, exiting through the tall, wrought-iron gates. The stars were out, bright and clear, with no cloud to block them tonight. Leo would love it, she thought.

"What are you thinking about?" His question caught her off-guard. His deep voice was almost soft, curious even. She was so tempted to look at him, to stare at him, but she ignored the urge.

"My family," she answered truthfully, gazing out of the window with her chin in her palm. "How they're doing. How Angela's doing." Romano's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

He looked tense now, Cee could see his reflection in the window. She turned to him, biting her lip nervously before she spoke. "My family will have been kind to her." Her voice sounded bitter.

The Fieros had a strong sense of dignity; Leonardo Fiero had always taught his daughter that her dignity was her life. To harm a child, an innocent, would be shameful to admit to; it was not their way. The Romanos seemed to have no problem with it, she thought angrily, turning back to the window.

"I am sure." His reply sounded insincere, to an extent; they both knew he didn't trust her family, but he didn't seem decided on whether he trusted her.

He'd accused her of being a spy, of trying to hurt his family, all while she was visiting the injured and trying desperately to make a few friends to keep her company while she was trapped there. She didn't even have a way of contacting her family - Cee tried to stop the scowl forming on her face - how the hell could she be a spy?

"I'm not a spy," she blurted out suddenly, without turning to face him; she didn't think she could handle another Romano death stare. There was a small pause as Cee flushed, realising how abrupt her statement was. "I'm training to be a nurse."

He didn't reply.

The car drew up to park at the edge of a clifftop, looking out across a small village. It glittered with light, like a tiny gingerbread town decorated with fairy lights; it looked like something out of a movie.

Cee climbed out of the car to get a better look before Romano could reach her door. The lights were from windows or street lamps; it looked so picturesque, so perfect - it looked like someone had cut out this scene from a children's book.

She didn't realise she'd been drifting closer to the edge of the cliff until Romano's hands tightened on her waist, making her jump, pulling her backwards as a few small pebbles tumbled down the rocky surface.

"Careful," he ordered, his tone strict. Cee barely heard him, focusing on his hands on her waist, separated from her skin by only a thin strip of fabric, feeling the warmth of his hands bleed through the material-

He let go as if his hands were burning. Cee blushed in the darkness, taking a step away from the cliff edge.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her heart beating fast with fear, turning her gaze to the small restaurant they had arrived at. The car park was full - she could hear soft music drifting out from the double doors.

He offered her his arm once again, wordlessly, noticing how fragile she felt next to him.

"This restaurant," he informed her, "is run by a couple who retired from my weapons business." Cee blinked. No one 'retired' from the Fiero family; they either died or...well, that was it. Most families require life-long service.

Noting her confused expression, Romano explained. "I own many legal businesses, on the side to earn money." He held open the front door for her, allowing her into the warmth. "It's run by Mia, the woman who taught me and raised me alongside my aunt."

Cee felt her mouth open, shocked at the revelation; Romano was revealing his personal life to her, giving her access to information she'd never wanted to steal.

He guided her through to the main dining floor with his palm against the small of her back, losing the tension in his shoulders with every step he took. Cee tried to ignore the small seed of fear growing in her stomach as the music grew louder.

Niccolò kept her close as the tables came into view. The rest of the floor was packed; the tables lit by candles, the light gleaming off the glossy table tops. It looked homely. Cosy. Comforting. People bustled around, several waiting at the magnificent bar, stacked with colourful bottles and liquors.

"Mr Romano, sir," a woman's voice called, the woman in question coming into view, bowing her head respectfully. "Good to see you."

The woman looked up at Romano, her eyes flickering to Cee questioningly, who shrank back. Romano gave a slight nod, and the woman turned with a smile to Cee. "Miss Fiero, it's so kind of you to visit."

"I- er- thank you," she stammered quietly, her cheeks flaming in the candlelight. Niccolò held back a smile, enjoying her timid response to strangers; she was everything that his world was not.

Cee found herself being led to a table, ushered into her seat by the woman; Niccolò allowed Mia to boss him around, and Cee couldn't help but smile slightly, nervously. It was so unusual to see such a big, intimidating man told what to do by the petite Italian.

Mia smiled widely, holding her arms wide; they were slightly private from the rest of the customers - their table was by a large window overlooking the cliff edge. "Welcome, welcome - your primo will be here shortly."

"Mia's chefs don't like to work to a menu," Niccolò explained over the hum of background noise, once Mia had scurried away. "Everything is decided in the moment." Cee looked down at her lap, feeling her fingers shake.

This man could have killed her, so easily; he could kill her even now, with a click of his fingers - this man was pure darkness.

"You're nervous," Niccolò stated, tilting his head to one side. "Tell me why." Cee bit her tongue for a second, tuning out the sound of other conversations.

"Because you're scary," she mumbled eventually, ignoring how childlike she sounded in the fancy restaurant.

"I'm scary?" he asked, sounding amused rather than offended. She eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you going to lock me in a basement if I tell you you're really scary?" To her astonishment, Niccolò laughed softly, the first time she'd ever heard him laugh. It felt almost intimate - she'd never seen him so calm.

"No," he replied, leaning back. Cee folded her arms, unable to hide the grumpy expression on her face; she turned away to avoid showing any other guests her unhappiness.

"Shouldn't have happened in the first place," she muttered, glaring at the floor.

"I agree." Cee's head snapped up. "And I am here to apologise, although I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"What?" she asked dumbly, her arms relaxing.

"I'm sorry, Camilla." His dark eyes were burning into her, but his face was curiously blank. "I was angry, because I believed you'd hurt my family." Cee sighed, feeling broken.

It wasn't within her to hold grudges, she had never been able to before - she was a pushover. And yet this man had manipulated her worst fears against her, bruised her and hurt her, and she still wanted to forgive him.

"You should be sorry," she snapped finally, glaring at him. "Do you know what it's like to feel the walls closing in on you? To feel like you'll be locked in the same room until you die?" He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

"You're claustrophobic," he stated suddenly, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't know."

"You don't know anything about me," she sighed, drawing circles on the tablecloth. He shrugged. "That's not a problem. Tell me about yourself."

Cee rolled her eyes. "This isn't a date, Romano."

"Niccolò," he stated coldly. Cee blinked, looking up. For the first time tonight, he looked angry. "I won't ask again."

She nodded slowly. "I apologise."

"I'd like to offer my apologies for the recent incident," he intoned flatly, swirling his wine in his glass. Cee said nothing. "Do you accept my apology?"