Niccolò stepped out of his Ferrari, once belonging to his father. It was a 250 GT Berlinetta, something that meant very little to him, but meant a lot to his father before he died. Romano strode forward, reaching the end of his car. The black car's headlights remained on, lighting the dusty track.

Two shadowed figures stepped out of their vehicles, clutching guns. They were scared. He could almost smell it. "You took my brother," the shorter one shouted, "Gio D'Angelo." Niccolò stayed calm, his finger ready on the trigger. "Give him to us, or we take the girl."

He didn't hesitate. A threat on Camilla's life was a stupid, stupid move; Romano clenched his jaw. She was a Romano guest - she was protected. She was his to bargain with, and for.

He curled his finger around the trigger, lifting slowly. The two men flinched, darting for cover - but he pulled his finger towards him with a deafening crack.

The bullet hit the bodyguard first, the one more likely to be proficient with a weapon. D'Angelo ducked immediately, running and shooting towards Niccolò with a shaky hand - the first shot missed easily in the dark. Niccolò raised his arm steadily, staying calm, refusing to cower as the second shot rang out and fired, once.

The D'Angelo's body dropped to the floor, blood spattered on the windscreen of the black car he had been a passenger in moments ago. Niccolò reached for his phone, jabbing the emergency dial quickly and activating the GPS tracker on his phone for Luca to track him down with.

It wouldn't take long for his family to arrive; they were only a few minutes from the Romano House. Niccolò strode forward, raising his gun as the driver's door opened; the driver raised his hands silently, dropping to his knees.

Cee sat, frozen with fear, squeezing her eyes shut. She hadn't moved for about sixty seconds. What if Niccolò was hurt? What if he died?

She dared to peek quickly in the wing mirror but the dark had swallowed up the three men; nothing moved. She hadn't forgiven Niccolò - but she couldn't let him die - she could help. Cee closed her eyes tightly, praying like her life depended on it, and opened her door as silently as she could.

She slipped out, keeping her head low, creeping slowly towards the rear end of Niccolò's car. She couldn't hear anything - the gun shots had stopped. Cautiously, she peeked her head out, her eyes catching on bright blue irises, frozen open. Cee's world stopped spinning.

The eyes stared up at her lifelessly, blood trickling from the bullet hole in his forehead. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her stomach twisting with nausea.

"Camilla." His voice was low, expressionless. "Get back in the car." She lifted her head, staring at Niccolò with horror; she felt incapable of moving. She was used to blood; she'd never seen a corpse before, never looked into their eyes.

Gone was the man that had taken her for gelato ten minutes ago; this was Mr Romano, the Romano Don. He gripped her upper arm tightly, effortlessly hauling her up straight and pushed her back into the car. Cee stared blankly ahead, letting him slam the door; she heard him lock the car.

Romano's men descended on the narrow lane, blocking each end; men poured out of vans, each well-armed, each emotionless.

"Where's Cee?" Luca snapped immediately at Romano, shaking with worry or anger.

"Watch your tone," the Don replied calmly, a deadly fury building beneath his quiet tone. Luca bowed his head, waiting to receive orders. "Take the driver back to the House, find out what the D'Angelos know or think."

Luca nodded sharply, scanning the scene for Cee's distinctive long, dark waves of hair, finding nothing in the dark. "Now!" Romano barked, glaring at his cousin.

Luca took the hooded prisoner by the arms, pushing him non-too-gently into the van waiting for him. Romano watched him climb into the back of the van along with the coward, his gaze flickering back to his car before he caught himself.

"Focus," he muttered to himself, striding towards the black car, directing men to pour gasoline all over. Several men were in the process of lifting the two casualties, ready to dump them in the car to burn. "Don't light it up until I've left," he ordered. He knew Cee wouldn't want to see the bodies go up in flames, or even know their standard protocol for disposing of bodies.

One team was throwing down sand, soaking up the blood before it stained the ground, ensuring the minimum amount of markers to the scene.

Romano could feel the anger itching his fingertips, making his fists clench; he wanted to hurt the D'Angelos. They ruined Camilla's first date. They threatened her.

He turned sharply, heading towards his car, keeping his weapon in his hand.

Cee sat in the dark car, petrified, not moving a muscle. She heard the telltale click of the car being unlocked and flinched. Romano ducked into the driver's seat, turning the ignition and pealing away without putting on his seatbelt.

She watched the car growing smaller in the wing mirror until they turned the corner; a thin plume of smoke began to rise in the night sky, an orange glow added to the skyline.

She stayed silent. What could she say to this man, this murderer? He'd just killed a man - two men - he could kill her just as easily. She could feel the tension radiating off him, suffocating her; she shouldn't have ignored his orders - she didn't want to go back into the basement.

Niccolò's knuckles clenched the steering wheel, his eyes gleaming with anger. How dare they threaten Camilla while she was under his protection?

Romano skidded the car to a halt, throwing stones from beneath the wheels, climbing out before Cee could even blink. She slipped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, following him.

"Niccolò?" Her voice was uncertain, uneven, soft; he stopped, his body cast in shadow. She was scared; he could taste it in the air. But this time, not of him.

Cee took a step forward cautiously, hearing his harsh breathing over the sound of her footsteps. The air was cold against her skin, her breath fogged as it left her mouth. "I'm scared."

"I'll kill them for scaring you." Cee shook her head, stepping closer.

"Please don't be angry," she pleaded, within an arm's length of him. "I'm sorry for getting out the car." He half-turned, his eyes terrifyingly black and cold as she looked up at him.

"If I give you an order, it's not because I enjoy telling you what to do." He caught her wrist, pulling her a fraction closer. "If that driver had pulled out a gun, or any accomplices arrived, you would've been hurt."

Cee chose to look at the floor, feeling like a child being scolded. "I thought you might have been shot."

"I don't care." He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to meet his gaze. "If the situation is business-related, you sit down, shut up, and do as I say."

Cee nodded miserably, pulling herself out of his grasp. "Okay," she agreed weakly, turning to the House.

Niccolò caught her hand, pulling her towards him, trapping her. "I'm furious that they dared to threaten you," he muttered in her ear, sensing her body stiffen at the proximity.

"It's fine," she mumbled, keeping a wary distance; he was too close - if she tilted her head back, their lips would touch. Before he'd locked her away, she'd felt safe in his arms - he meant protection - but now she wasn't sure what she felt. Those damned sparks were still there, mixed with a hint of fear.

Niccolò's chest rumbled darkly, a warning, twisting a strand of her hair around his fingers absently as he breathed slowly, calming down.

"You're having breakfast with me tomorrow," he told her unflinchingly, trying to ignore the bubbling anger that was slowly dying down. He ran his palm across his chest as his wound twinged painfully.

"Would it kill you to ask?" she mumbled bitterly, taking a step back; she was trying to keep him at arms' length, trying to focus on not melting, but he was persistent - he mirrored her step, closing the gap. Her breathing hitched as he leaned in, his lips almost touching her skin.

"Yes."

"What happened to the men?" Niccolò let her go abruptly, his body stiffening as he stepped away.

"Don't ask questions," he glared down at her threateningly, his eyes dark and soulless.

"What are you going to do, lock me up again?" Cee sneered back at him, her own frustration rising to the surface. He caught her wrist, yanking her closer.

"Is that what you want?" he asked softly, deadly. She shook her head mutely, holding her breath as his lips skimmed her cheek. "Then don't tempt me." He leaned in, slowly, in a controlled manner. Cee tried not to flinch.

She felt her heart stop, her eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of his lips pressed against her skin; the slight rough feeling of stubble along his jaw grazed her cheek. Those cliché sparks, sparks Cee'd never felt in her life, raced through her veins.

Cee let out the breath she was holding, stunned as he stepped away. Her hands were still shaking slightly - a mixture of cold and fear. And desire.

"Niccolò?" she whispered after him, shaken and almost dizzy. He held open the door for her, waiting to reply until she was inside, in the warm interior of the house.

"Yes?"

"Is everything okay?" Cee chose her quiet words carefully, referring to his business; she tried not to hang onto the lingering feeling of his skin on hers as she reached out, brushing her fingers against his shoulder. He seemed stressed - already.

"You don't need to worry about it." Niccolò glanced down at her, noting her unconscious pout, his face suddenly emotionless. "I'll see you tomorrow, Camilla, I have work to do."

Cee blinked, shocked and confused. By the time her mind had caught up with his words, he had already started walking away - leaving her as if their date had never happened.

Slowly, she climbed the stairs, following him; her hand trailing on the stone bannister. Her mind was misty, swirling with emotion and thoughts; what had changed so quickly? Was she disappointed?

He was hot and cold, ice and fire; she was confused, left in the dark.

Without thinking, she'd found her way back to her room instinctively. She pushed open the door, blinking in surprise.

Gone were the pink walls, the tiara-patterned sheets, the heart-shaped fluffy rug on the floor.

The walls were white, smelling of fresh paint; the bed was now double-sized, with white linen sheets; the entire room had been transformed from a Pink/Fairy Princess/Barbie theme to a simple, modern look. Cee felt like she was in a hotel.

"Oh, wow," she mumbled, taking a step inside. They'd managed to transform her bedroom in only three or four hours.

She spun in a slow circle, taking everything in, a small smile growing on her face; this had been Niccolò's idea.

Without thinking, she darted out of her room, climbing the stairs and moving towards his office, her hand outstretched - she needed to say thank you, at least -

A woman caught her wrist, stopping her from knocking. "Mr Romano does not wish to be disturbed." Cee ignored her, pulling her hand free, her smile fading slightly. She hadn't seen the guard on duty.

"It'll only take a second-"

"He does not wish to be disturbed by you." The woman blocked her way this time, her hand reaching for the gun at her waist. Cee's eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. She wasn't a threat, the woman had to understand.

"I- I don't understand - I was just with him- " Cee felt like she'd been doused in ice-cold water suddenly. One minute he was almost hugging her, reassuring her, then next minute he didn't want to see her?

"He has more important things to do," the woman snapped, pushing Cee backwards a step.

"Why has he specifically asked not to see me?" Cee couldn't help the tone of hurt in her voice.

The door jerked open sharply. "What part of 'do not disturb' did you not understand?" Cee's shoulders relaxed, looking up at Niccolò, but his question seemed aimed at her. His shoulders had tended significantly in the past five minutes - he already looked overworked.

She frowned as he glared at her; he didn't even seem to register she was there, the same person he'd kissed just minutes before.

"Sorry, sir, this woman tried to get in." The woman bowed her head, not meeting his eye.

"Niccolò- " Cee began, trying to explain herself, but she didn't get very far. The woman lunged, twisting Cee's arm behind her back and forcing her to her knees before Cee could even blinked. She gasped in pain, feeling her knees bruise with the sharp contact with the carpet.

"Apologise for your disrespect," the woman ordered, her voice horrified. Cee flinched, her arm throbbing; she gasped out an apology.

She kept her eyes trained on the carpet, just in front of his shoes, trying not to provoke anyone. The man in front of her was so different from the man who had taken her for gelato; she didn't understand. Her eyes were glassy but she refused to cry.

"Let her up." Cee stumbled to her feet, the woman still holding her in a tight arm-lock; she wouldn't look up, even as she felt his gaze trained on her face for a second.

"Go to your room," she heard him say sigh, breaking the silence, before he walked back inside his office, closing the door.

The woman let Cee go, standing up straight by the door again. Cee dragged herself to her feet, rubbing her arm pathetically.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," she muttered to the woman, turning away to return to her new room.