An hour after I've left Elio's room, well past midnight, a woman enters my room with a tray, carrying a glass of water and three pill bottles neatly placed around the tray.

Emiliano Mariano is surely one of the most infuriatingly indecipherable human beings I've ever come across.

I never got to tell him the name of my pills, but somehow, he found out and got them for me. All of them.

First, he threatens to kill me, then sends my medications for me so I can rest, or maybe kill me in my sleep. I snort and shake my head. He doesn't seem to be that kind of killer. I'm guessing he's the type who likes to look into his victim's eyes as they die. Or maybe I'm wrong.

Today's events have drained me far more than I thought physically possible, it's a wonder how I managed to stay on my feet all that while.

As I down my medicines and lay down in bed on my side, facing the small window, my brain replays Elio's vehement words, showing how far he's willing to go if his family or business is threatened. It's almost admirable. Not the business part, but how he sees the people working for him as his family and how far he'd go for them.

Almost similar to how far I'd go for Dad regardless of how awful he was and sometimes still is and how impossible the tasks he wants to be done by me seem to be. Like the time he emotionally blackmailed me into changing the prosecution's state to be able to finalize death penalty for the felon. I draw in a sharp breath and squeeze my eyes shut, thinking about it still hurts.

My words and a single signature took someone's life. Ever since that day, a small part of me hasn't been able to stop hating Dad, and myself for accepting it.

I hate to admit it, the emotion behind Elio's words strung somewhere deep within me. Of course, I don't applaud him for it, but it's worth noting.

These kinds of people aren't supposed to care for anyone or anything beyond money. It goes against the very nature of their business, yet here is Elio. Perhaps it's because he's young and new in this position, probably less than a decade of experience.

Surely the underworld will change him, turn him into another monster that needs to be locked away for the safety of normal people.

I sigh and give in to my exhaustion, allowing sleep to invade my consciousness.

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Flashes of color burst before my eyelids in an endless stream. Vague shapes and the repeat of the past forty-eight hours pollute my sleep, making it restless. Those events mingle with the past incidents I'd managed to lock away, gunshot sounds mixing with the crackling of the fire. The darkness of the underground hole they'd kept me in merges with my childhood bedroom. Angry sounds and faces pass in a blur and when I jolt awake, I'm glad it's over.

The sun is in the middle of the sky, flooding my room through the narrow window. I groan and rub my eyes. It feels like I've sunk into the bed, an enormous weight pulling me down into the mattress.

I'm not freshened up from my sleep, but it's better than going sleepless. It's not something a cup of coffee won't be able to fix.

I force my stiff muscles to move as I twist and turn in bed, hiding my face in the pillow from the intruding flow of sunlight.

Mentally pep-talking myself into pulling it together and getting my butt out of the bed, I manage to turn my head and locate the small clock on the nightstand. I squint to read the time. After three times of rereading, I gasp. It's twelve-thirty already. I overslept. Shitshitshit.

I jump up. From the force of my sudden action, I lose balance, and having my legs tangled with the sheets only makes it worse. I tumble down the bed, crashing on the floor with a loud thud and hitting my head on the other nightstand.

I grunt in pain, rubbing my forehead as I prop myself up with my elbow, muttering all sorts of curse words that my brain can conjure.

What a fantastic way to start a day.

As I struggle on the wooden panels of the floor, unwrapping the covers from around my legs and cussing them with all my might, a knock on the door pauses me.

After a long moment, the door cracks open, and a mop of chestnut hair peers inside. "My men said they heard you're awake," Elio says sounding unsure, as his eyes search the room.

Until they land on me. His brown eyes widen, glinting with amusement but he stops himself right on time before doubling up. Good for him and his balls, because if he starts laughing, I will be kicking him at the first given chance.

He walks into the room, shutting the door behind himself as he presses his lips into a thin line to hold back his laugh.

I glare at him and continue to pull the covers away from my frame.

He clears his throat multiple times before saying, "Looks like you had a very eventful start." A corner of his mouth quirks up. With his eyes sparkling and delight coloring his olive skin, he appears much younger and softer. As if he's not the boss of bosses of the Sicilian mafias.

I shake my head and shove aside my observation notes as I throw the covers on the bed and push myself to my feet.

Still very much enjoying my disheveled state, he opens his mouth but I throw him a deadly glare. "Don't," I warn him.

He smirks and ignores my comment. "You don't seem to be a morning person."

I huff as I trudge around the bed, ignoring him entirely.

"We found out which family has the drive," Elio announces as he walks to the middle of the room.

Even though I feel his gaze burning into me I move to the bathroom door before facing him. "So?"

He looks at me incredulously before elaborating, "Marco wants you to be with us when we decide our next step."

"Oh," I mumble, fidgeting with the doorknob.

"He's very fond of you... and trusts your words for some unknown reasons." Elio thrusts his hands into his pockets, scrutinizing me as if waiting to see my reaction.

"Don't you find that a little odd?" I ask, at last, tilting my head to the side.

He furrows his brows as he considers my question. "Marco has a very trusting nature... he trusts until proven wrong."

I frown. "Isn't that dangerous in your business?"

A corner of his lips lifts upwards. "Very much, that's why he always stays with me."

"Is he your... consigliere?" I hesitantly question.

"Of a kind, him and my mother."

Oh. Interesting. After a long moment, I nod and add, "I'm going to take a shower I'll be out in ten. Your office?"

He nods and without wasting another second I turn and enter the bathroom.

I rush through my morning process of brushing my teeth, showering, combing my messy hair, drying it.

After my hair is not dripping wet, I fasten my necklace and grip the towel around me tighter while I contemplate my options and delve deeper into the mess I am stuck in. I hate cussing dead people, but Aaron sure as hell fucked up my life. Just when everything was working out.

Finally, I had an opening at bringing the Rodríguez crime family down and proving myself to Dad. Caleb had just asked me to help him! Maybe he would have noticed me, seen me more than just a nobody, just another face in the office. And maybe things could have gone beyond a polite hi and bye each time we saw each other around the office.

Clearly, I have no luck with men, hence the reason I omitted them from my life altogether. The second I let one into my life, look where the hell it got me!

With a sigh I walk out of the bathroom, lost in my thoughts when I realize, I'm not alone in the room.

Startled, I let out a scream before gaining back my composure and glaring at Elio who glances at me from the corner of his eye, giving me a quick overall before he returns to going through my clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

"That's a dramatic way of coming out of the shower," he mumbles lightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I shriek.

"We need to talk before you see the others."

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