"The attack today?" Niccolò repeatedly dangerously, his voice dark. Cee had his full, undivided attention now, but wasn't sure she wanted it.

"The...man," she replied lamely, looking down at her hands. "The one that tried to shoot me."

She heard his chair scrape back and before she could blink, Niccolò was kneeling in front of her, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin tightly. "Did he hurt you, cara? " he demanded roughly, tilting her face to the light to check for bruising.

Cee shook her head, brushing him away. "I'm fine- " His palm slid across her cheek, cradling her face, holding her in place tightly. She shrank back slightly at his dark glower, feeling how strong he was, how easily he could hurt her - but they both knew he wouldn't.

"Did you try to hide this from me?" He sounded furious, an eruption waiting to happen; her heart was racing - either at their proximity or fear.

"I don't understand- why would I?" Satisfied with her answer, he let go, storming to his desk. "Niccolò?"

He typed something into his phone, slamming it down on his desk. Cee flinched, sitting upright and shrinking into the sofa. "Niccolò?" He ignored her, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Go into my bedroom." Cee stared in confusion at the dangerous, fuming man glaring out the window, standing up and slowly approaching. His eyes watched her every move, cautiously, a tortured expression on his face as he let her slip her hand into his.

"No," she murmured, her heart pounding - but her refusal didn't seem to matter too much. "Please, tell me what's happening."

Before he could reply, the door slammed open; two armed guards forced a familiar man in front of Niccolò. Cee fought back a cry of fear, scrambling away to the far corner of his office, her eyes darting between the Romano Don and his victim.

"Tell me the orders I gave you." Niccolò was glaring down at the struggling man, his shoulders tensed with anger - forgetting that just a moment ago, he was softening. At that moment, Cee had never been more scared of him; shadows seemed to curl around his fists, sheer darkness in his eyes.

"Report any issues, sir." Niccolò considered the man in front of him, his face cold.

"Tell me, cousin, why I am hearing that there was an attack on my guest." Cee flinched, realising too late what she'd done.

Luca lifted his head, his expression guilty. "I didn't tell you, sir." Cee didn't have time to look away; she watched in horror as Niccolò drove his fist into Luca's stomach: hard. The two guards held Luca up, holding his arms back to prevent him protecting himself or striking back. Cee fought back a cry, listening to the sound of Luca choking for air.

"Who was it?" Niccolò's voice was so calm, almost like they were having a light chat over coffee.

"D'Angelos," Luca replied thickly, his voice slurred with pain.

Romano lifted Luca by the collar of his shirt, his eyes black with rage.

"If you weren't my blood, I'd kill you," he informed Luca darkly, thrusting his fist forward. Cee flinched, hearing the crack of Luca's nose, the sound of flesh on flesh. She covered her face, tears rising to her eyes as she heard Luca grunt in pain, over and over - she could hear something - blood - dripping now, Niccolò just wouldn't stop-

Silence. Cee opened her eyes slowly, her gaze falling on the bloodied man on the floor. Luca was curled around his stomach, trying to defend himself by making himself as small as possible.

"Never betray me again," Romano breathed. "Get out of my sight."

The two guards hauled Luca's barely conscious body to his feet, stumbling out of the office. Cee stayed silent, not daring to breathe as she slipped back over the sofa, sitting bolt upright.

The sound of typing filled the still air.

"Don't look so scared." She jumped at the sound of his voice, so calm now. She risked a glance at him, sitting in his desk chair once more. He was focusing on his computer screen, as if seconds ago, he hadn't been beating his cousin unconscious.

"Your hand is bleeding," she whispered, feeling an uncomfortable twist in her gut. He glanced down, noting the trickle of blood from his knuckles and Camilla's terrified stance; she looked ready to bolt at any second. "You need to clean it."

"Then clean it," he ordered absently, turning his attention back to his faintly blue screen. Cee stood to her feet, smoothing down his shirt to her mid-thigh, and shakily made her way into his room, tripping over her feet as she did.

She walked through his bedroom slowly, entering the bathroom; she didn't have time to marvel at the glossy surfaces and modern shower. Cee caught sight of herself in the mirror; she looked white, her hands trembling slightly. It didn't feel real.

In his bathroom, below the sink, there was a first aid kit.

She set it on the sofa, opening it up and picking through it - searching for antiseptic wipes. Cee stood up, the packet clenched in his hand, and tiptoed over to Niccolò, hovering back a few feet; she didn't want to approach too quickly, or scare him - the last thing that she needed was to see how Niccolò reacted to surprises.

"I need- I need your hand," she said weakly, her face pale.

His tanned, smooth hand was spotted with blood - both his and Luca's. The skin around his first two knuckles was split, blood spilling in neat black lines across the back of his hand.

He paused, turning his chair to face her. She looked so pale, so innocent, in the darkness - she was as white as his shirt: his guardian angel. Wordlessly, he held out his palm.

Cee struggled to breathe slowly, finding her heart racing. She tore open the packet, taking his palm gently and kneeling down at the side of his chair, to see better. She wiped away the smears of blood first, cleaning his hand, before pressing it gently to the split skin.

Niccolò barely felt it, focusing on the feather-light touch on his palm.

She cleared away the congealing blood, noting that the cuts were smaller than she'd expected, and went to move away, to collect gauze from the kit on the sofa.

His hand closed around hers, refusing to let her leave. "Do I still scare you?" he asked, looking up at her. Cee's gaze darted to their adjoined hands, then back to his emotionless expression.

"A bit," she muttered, trying to pull her hand away. Niccolò refused to let go, pulling her between his legs; Cee inhaled sharply, her heart racing - heat flashed across her skin where he touched her.

"Don't," he said simply, his tangled curls flopping slightly over his forehead. "I said I'd come back for you."

Cee tugged at her hand uselessly, before giving up; she couldn't meet his eye. They were so close, millimetres away from each other. "I don't understand why you hurt Luca," she whispered finally, hugging herself; she was still dressed in his shirt, embarrassingly.

"I had to." Niccolò eyes shone coldly as he observed her, her hair falling softly across her shoulders - her hands fell to his shoulders to keep her balance. "He didn't keep you safe."

"I'm not even hurt," she protested weakly, turning away to hide a yawn; Niccolò released her hand, allowing her to escape, turning his attention back to the screen. She padded softly back to the sofa, avoiding the bloodstains on the floor, curling up and closing her eyes.

Niccolò worked through the night, deliberately avoiding looking at the sofa; she was just a distraction. For a while he typed, updating the information he had on his Italian-based connection, planning shipments - but he heard a soft sigh. His fingers paused over his keyboard, his gaze turning to the girl. In her sleep, Camilla had let out a gentle restless moan, her fists wrapped tightly around a cushion.

He turned off his computer screen, scooping Camilla off his sofa and into his arms, carrying her through to his room, laying her down on the bed. She shifted, searching for his warmth in her sleep; he watched her passively, keeping a safe distance.

He checked his watch in the dark: 4.06am. He'd be up in a couple of hours - but he'd leave her to rest; Niccolò turned to leave, but paused at the sound of her voice.

"Niccolò?" Cee whispered, half-asleep, her eyelids already closing again. It stopped him dead, his limbs freezing; Niccolò turned his head to see her - and then he was standing over her, an odd desire to protect her in the back of his mind.

"Here," he murmured emotionlessly, watching her fall back asleep, her hands now clutching his sheets.

Cee stretched, her joints clicking; she was so comfortable. She opened her eyes slowly, curling underneath the sheets. The other side of the bed was empty.

Hazily, she began to remember falling asleep on Niccolò's sofa, the events in his office- Cee sat up abruptly, wondering how Luca was.

She searched the floor for her clothes and shoes - gone. All she had was her underwear and Niccolò's shirt. She blushed, releasing how revealing her outfit was.

He didn't scare her to the same extent now; the cold exterior was just who he was.

Cee shook her head, trying to ignore the funny sparks that were darting around in her stomach at the thought of Niccolò. Perhaps if she could sneak to her room and change, she could worry about finding Luca afterwards.

She slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the bedroom door; to her surprise, it was unlocked. She tugged the hem of the shirt down as far as it would go and stepped out into the corridor, creeping along the corridor.

As she passed the office door, she heard a sigh from inside. "Camilla." She froze. "Come in." Blushing, she opened the office door, staring at her bare toes as she stepped inside. "Close the door."

She followed his instruction, pulling at the shirt, hoping it'd get longer if she prayed hard enough. "How did you sleep?" Cee looked up nervously, realising his attention was on the computer screen instead of her bare legs.

"Good, thank you," she replied quietly, shifting from one foot to the other. "You?" He glanced at her, his eyes slowly taking in her appearance - his shirt was large enough on her to cover her underwear, short enough to tempt him.

"I didn't," he stated sharply, studying the short hem of her shirt. "I don't want you walking around the house like that, Camilla." She flushed, feeling his eyes rake up her thighs, skimming over every curve of her body.

"I was just going to get changed," she protested, folding her arms. Niccolò stood up, beckoning her closer. She obeyed mutely. "I'll call for some clothes to be brought up," he told her casually, standing to look out the window.

Cee shifted closer, hovering a few steps behind his shoulder. "Thank you," she managed, trying not to melt as the heat of the sunlight burned through the material of her- his shirt.

"For now, stay," he instructed, completely ignoring the effect his presence had on Cee.

"You could ask," she suggested, lacking some of the usual irritation and instead sounding almost amused. Niccolò turned, slowly moving towards her; Cee took a step back instinctively, feeling her legs collide with the edge of his desk clumsily - she blushed. He kept his eyes on hers, deliberately, enjoying the thrill of the chase as her breathing hitched.

"I don't like being refused," he answered, dropping back into his desk chair, running a hand through his hair as she stood there, stunned. Cee tried not to stare, wondering how it would feel to run her fingers through his curls.

"Can I ask something about business?" she said aloud, shifting a tiny bit closer. Niccolò appraised her carefully, weighing it up in his mind.

"That depends."

"How are things - negotiations - going with my family?" Niccolò's shoulders were tense.

"You don't need to worry about it," he said automatically, watching as she stepped even closer, testing her nerve.

Cee tried to keep her expression calm, trying not to show how nervous she was about accidentally initiating another conflict. "Please?" Her voice was quiet. Niccolò watched her defy him, an odd expression on his face.

"You're brave today," he murmured, watching her blush. "The negotiations aren't going smoothly, but they never do."

He noticed her pleading look and raised an eyebrow. "That's all you're getting."

"So secretive," she muttered, flinching as he stood abruptly, towering over her threateningly; she tripped over her own feet in her haste to keep her distance. He reached out, steadying her with an unreadable expression as she held onto his arm to find her balance.

He reached forward with his free hand, his hand cupping her cheek gently - so gently.

For a moment, the world stopped spinning.

Cee felt her legs shake - with fear or anticipation - her eyes went wide. He was so close, so tantalisingly close; she could smell fresh pine, mint - would he taste as good as he looked? Niccolò was searching her expression for something, his jaw tense; he needed her to understand.

"Don't ask again."

Someone knocked at the door. Cee shot backwards, her face flushed with mortification, stumbling away clumsily at the sudden interruption.

"May I have permission to enter, sir?" Niccolò's fists clenched briefly, attempting to control his temper at the untimely arrival of a visitor, before sliding on a familiar, blank expression.

"Yes." Flo opened the door, her eyes darting to Cee in shock. "What do you want?"

"I came to inform you that Miss Fiero was missing," Flo managed, after she recovered herself, "but I see I was wrong."

"Fetch her some clothes, Florence," he ordered impassively, returning his attention to his computer. Flo nodded, giving Cee a questioningly look before escaping.

Cee let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding, before curling up on the sofa to wait, noticing Niccolò's tense silence. She was such an idiot.

He shook his head, glaring at the computer screen; he looked furious now. Cee blushed, realising how close she'd come to kissing the Romano Don.

She didn't have to wait long before Flo returned, trousers and top in hand. Cee hurried into his bedroom, slipping on the loose, flowing clothes and making her escape. She couldn't face Niccolò; he must think she was desperate - throwing herself at him like that-

Cee groaned to herself, heading to the bed medical wing out of habit. Luca was lying there somewhere - hurt - and she was trying to kiss his cousin - what kind of friend would do that?

Cee's heart skipped slightly as she remembered what it was like to have his skin on hers, his eyes on hers; what it was like to lean in.

She couldn't let it happen again.