It has been a week of being his Little, and I've learned a little about the ambiguity about that. I've been scolded, praised, rewarded, and punished. And what's more, the part in which I find confusing, is that I enjoy every aspect of it. Even the punishments. Or, I don't like being punished. It hurts. But the relief it gives me once I know it's all over... it's curing my anxiety in a way. It makes it easy to forgive myself. And it's fascinating. I've always found it so hard to forgive myself. Nearly impossible, really.

And though we haven't met each other much since the introducing dinner, we've talked over face-time. And he's been good at checking in on me through texts. The concerns I had about this are deafening, muffled by the recent experience of feeling safe and cared for, in ways I haven't felt before. And it's a good experience. I haven't yet experienced or felt anything merely threatening or alarming. There's only been safety. How can I not want this? How can I not be charmed by him? It's impossible really.

But I'm nervous about today. Because when the day's over, he'll pick me up, as I'll stay over at his's today. And it's the first time I'll spend the night over at any man's house. Let alone his. Come to think of it, I've never slept that far away from home before. Ever. We never traveled much, so, I'm used to having the option of going home to the comfort of my bed, regardless of the clock. It's been a blessing and a curse, I guess.

Danielle gives me a brief glance from the side, and I know what she's thinking. She's taking this as a sign that I've lost my sanity. She is expecting me to die climatically from this, for our story to be written like a tragedy. And I guess it's kinda tragic that the first man, the only man, to instill this safety in me, is the first man, and the only man, I've ever met who is known to be a ruthless killer. And though I know that that's a fact, it doesn't align with the impression and image I have of him. He's the kindest most protective person I've ever got to know. He's making me feel squishy and bubbly. And he encourages me to stay true to who I am. He accepts parts of me that I've subconsciously tried to cage away, as I've been ashamed. She's wrong to think we'll end a tragedy. She's as wrong as can be.

"Stop looking at me like that," I say.

Danielle rolls her eyes, but her concern is evident. "I'm just worried about you, Sophia. This whole situation... it's a lot to take in. Are you sure about this?"

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but the truth is, I'm as sure as can be. I'll never meet anyone like him again. And I wouldn't want to. Because it's the fact that it's him that makes it worth it to me. It's the attraction. It has been present since I first laid eyes on him. "I mean, yeah, it's a bit unconventional. But he's been nothing but amazing to me. And I've never felt this... I don't know, understood, I guess."

Danielle sighs, running a hand through her hair, leaning back against her chair. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Spending the night at his place... that's a big step. I just don't think it's safe. Considering who he is, I mean."

I nod, chewing on my lip nervously. "I know. But I trust him, Dani. And I trust myself. I can always leave if I feel uncomfortable. There's a thing called consent, you know? He's very strict about that in fact."

She gives me a skeptical look, but ultimately nods. "Alright, just promise me you'll be careful. I don't trust him."

"I will, I promise. And well, I hate to break it to you, but he doesn't trust you either" I reply, offering her a small smile. "I guess you just don't like each other."

As the day progresses, my nerves start to build. What if something goes wrong? But then I remember all the times he's checked in on me, reassured me, and made me feel safe. I push the doubts aside. He vowed to protect me, and I trust him with that.

When he arrives to pick me up, I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. But as soon as I see him, all my worries melt away. He greets me with a warm smile and a gentle hug, and suddenly, I know that everything is going to be okay.

"You look beautiful," he compliments. I blush in reaction. Why do I have to give myself away so easily? My reactions leave no room for imagination. He can read me so easily it's honestly unfair. The only universally obvious thing about him, is his confidence and domineering presence. It can be felt from miles away. And it used to scare me. It used to make me stutter. But now it only enhances that safety he instills. It speaks for itself. It's a shield.

He helps me into the passenger seat, buckling me up in the way that gives me butterflies. Gosh... I can get used to that feeling.

As we drive to his place, I can't help but fidget nervously. It's not that I'm scared of him or anything; it's just that this is all so new and unfamiliar. But he notices my unease and reaches over to gently squeeze my hand, sending a reassuring smile my way.

"You okay, Sophia?" he asks.

"Yeah, just a bit nervous," I admit, feeling a bit embarrassed by my own apprehension.

He chuckles softly, "no need to be nervous, baby. I promise I won't bite... unless you want me to, of course" he adds with a playful wink. Before turning his attention to the road again. I gulp. Bite... unless I want him to? This escalated quickly.

"I was just kidding. Tonight is not about that. I just want you to ease up around me. We'll play and watch movies. Do Daddy and Little stuff. Don't stress, baby. We've got time."

As we arrive at his house, more like mansion of masculine extravaganza, he helps me out of the car and leads me inside, his hand warm and comforting against my back.

"Welcome home, Sophia," he says softly, his eyes warm and inviting as he gazes at me.

"Thank you," I reply, releasing a breath. Jeez... it's exactly what i expected his home to be. Dark, enigmatic, art-gallery, furnished with expensive fabrics. I'm scared I'll ruin things. I'm clumsy after all.

He gives me a gentle smile before leading me further into his home, showing me around with the same care and attention to detail that he always does. Everything about him, from the way he speaks to the way he moves, exudes a sense of confidence and authority that I find both intimidating and incredibly alluring. But I know it's just because it's him. If it was anyone else, I'd run for the hills.

I fidget awkwardly with my hands, much to his dissatisfaction. He sighs, pulling his hands away from his pockets, to pull mine apart. "Don't do that. Let me show you to your room."

"My room?"

"Yeah, your room," he confirms with a smile, his eyes gleaming with warmth as he glances back at me. "I want you to feel comfortable. And as much as I'd love to sleep with you in my arms... you're not ready for that."

His words eases some of the tension in my shoulders. It's clear that he genuinely cares about my well-being and comfort, and it's a feeling I'm not accustomed to but find myself craving more and more with each passing second.

And as we reach the top of the stairs, he leads me down a hallway lined with closed doors. My heart beats a little faster with anticipation, wondering what my room will be like. Will it reflect his personality? Will there be lots of grays and blacks in there, too? I hope not. Not that I don't like his style. It's just the lack of colors... the blacks... it's not exactly calming.

Stopping in front of one of the doors, he turns to me with a soft smile. "Here we are," he says, pushing the door open to reveal a cozy yet elegant room bathed in soft light. I'm relieved. My breath catches in my throat as I step inside, taking in the plush bedding, the warm hues of the walls, and the elegant touches scattered throughout the space.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, turning to him with wide eyes filled with gratitude.

He beams at my reaction, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. "It is. My sister furnished the room to her wishes. She hardly ever sleeps here but. I figured you'd enjoy this room better than the other ones," he says softly, his thumb brushing against my skin.

I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by the impressions. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine finding someone who would go to such lengths to make me feel safe and cherished. He's amazing.

"Thank you," I whisper, leaning into his touch. Then I lean back again, "wait, you have a sister?"

He chuckles softly at my question, a fondness evident in his eyes as he nods. "Yes, I do. She's a few years younger than me, but we've always been close. She lives back in Italy, but she visits from time to time. She has a knack for interior design, love's to play sims and all that."

I nod, taking in the information. "Did you ever live in Italy?" I ask, smiling softly. Every conversation of ours has been angled towards me. I really don't know anything about Raphaelle. Other than the obvious. But he doesn't seem like the sharing type either. He doesn't tell unless asked, I think.

He smiles back, his hand dropping from my cheek as he takes a step back. "Yeah, she's pretty great. Anyway, make yourself at home, bambina. I'll let you settle in, and then we can decide what to eat. Sound good?"

I nod eagerly, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling up inside me despite the lingering nerves. "Sounds perfect. Thank you" I reply.

With a final smile, he leaves me alone in the room, closing the door behind him. I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as I look around the cozy space. It's amazing how just being here, in his presence, makes me feel so at ease.

I start to unpack my things, placing them neatly on the dresser. I'm just here for a night, so there are only a few things I've brought, but... baby-steps. And maybe I'll spend more nights here, later on, as our relationship evolves. But as for now, a night is more than enough.

Once I've finished unpacking, I take a moment to freshen up in the bathroom before heading back out into the main part of the house. I find him waiting for me in the living room, a warm smile on his face as he gestures for me to join him on the black leather couch.

"Come here, baby" he asks, patting the space next to him.

I settle in beside him and leaning into his side. As he wraps an arm around my shoulders, I feel at home. Maybe spending the night here won't be so scary after all.

"Have you thought about what you wanna eat?" He asks. I shake my head, refusing to let go of his embrace.

"What do you suggest?" I ask, feeling a bit hungry now that the nerves have settled down a bit.

Raphaelle holds me tighter against him, "well, we could order in some pizza, or we can ask my chef to cook us something. How about pasta? Spaghetti carbonara? Do you like that?" he suggests.

My stomach grumbles in agreement at the mention, and the idea of homemade pasta from a chef sounds delicious. Rich man issues... having a chef at home. Jeez... has he any idea how amazing that would be for the regular person? "Spaghetti carbonara sounds perfect," I say, smiling up at him. "I'd love to try the real deal. I mean, the best one I've ever had was at Olive garden."

"Don't insult me, baby. That shit can't even be called Carbonara. But I'm happy to rectify the situation," he replies, his grin laced with genuine disgust.

"I'm just gonna go tell the chef. I'll be right back, baby."

As Raphaelle gets up to inform the chef, I sink further into the couch. It's surreal how quickly I've settled into this situation, but his easy demeanor makes it feel so natural.

Soon enough, he returns with a satisfied smile, "fifteen minutes at most, baby. Come, I want to show you something." He holds out his hand for me.

I take his hand with a smile, curious about what he wants to show me. There's a glint of excitement in his eyes that's infectious, and I feel a rush of anticipation coursing through me as he leads me through the house.

We pass through a hallway adorned with tasteful artwork. Raphaelle's home is a testament to his refined taste and impeccable style. But he's a stylish man. I can't say I'm surprised.

Finally, he stops in front of a set of double doors, turning to face me with a playful grin. "Ready?" he asks. I nod nervously.

He opens the set of doors, revealing a playroom. Stuffies. Dolls. Coloring books. Many coloring books. And canvases and paint. Has he redecorated this room with stuff he thinks I might like? I briefly look at him. "Go ahead. This room is entirely yours. I've bought a few things already, but we can add toys whenever. Just tell me what you want."

I notice my tears building up. "You've bought art supplies for me?" I ask. I know the things themselves aren't considered childish... or not the art supplies. But that he has meant for them to be part of the experience warms me. "Yes. A lot of Littles enjoy coloring, bambina. I think it might be easier for you to adapt when you have stuff you already feel comfortable with around."

Tears well up in my eyes as I take in the sight of the playroom. It's not just about the toys and art supplies; it's about him wanting to make me feel at home. And he's gone above and beyond, considering every detail to ensure I feel welcome.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "I... I don't know what to say."

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. "You don't have to say anything, bambina. Now, let's go eat. You can play or draw or whatever you want when we've finished."

As we head back to the living room, the aroma of freshly cooked pasta fills the air, making my stomach grumble once again. Raphaelle guides me to the dining table where a steaming plate of spaghetti carbonara awaits, garnished with grated Parmesan and cracked black pepper.

"Buon appetito, bambina" he says, pulling out a chair for me with a flourish, and I sit down. He takes the seat opposite me, looking relaxed and as handsome as ever.

Taking a bite of the pasta, I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the creamy texture and the burst of flavor from the pancetta. Yumlicious.

Raphaelle watches me with a soft smile, clearly pleased with my reaction. "Good, isn't it?" he asks.

I nod enthusiastically, my mouth too full to respond verbally. But the smile on my face says it all.

"Enjoy, baby."

After we finish our meal, Raphaelle insists I go to the playroom, as he has a phone call to make. I oblige, reminded of the ever-so-slight warning... that I am to do as told.

As I enter, I'm overwhelmed by the toys. There are so many. And the coloring books... The shelves are stocked with coloring books of all kinds, from intricate mandalas to adorable cartoon characters. There are stuffed animals in every corner, inviting me to cuddle up with them. And the art supplies—oh, the art supplies! Crayons, markers, colored pencils, paints, you name it. It's like a dream come true. I feel bubbly. I'm on the verge of clapping my hands. Is this the uhm... Little feeling? The bubbliness inside me?

I decide to start with some coloring, grabbing a book filled with whimsical designs and settling down at the small table in the center of the room. With each stroke of color, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. It's as if all the worries and anxieties of the outside world melt away, leaving me and my creativity alone with this bubbly feeling.

Lost in my own little world, I barely notice when Raphaelle enters the room, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches me work. He approaches quietly, crouching down beside me.

"You're quite the artist, bambina," he remarks.

I glance up, surprised by his presence but grateful for it nonetheless. "Thanks," I reply, feeling a rush of happiness at his compliment. "I messed it up though. Look, I colored out of line," I pout.

His gaze softening as he reaches out to tousle my hair gently. "You didn't mess it up. I can hardly see it."

I'm waltzing inside my head at his affection. How did I ever come across this? I feel so lucky. And how on earth is it that he's a ruthless Capo dei Capi? How on earth does this kind and gentle and caring man have it in him to kill? I can't make it make sense.

Raphaelle's phone suddenly buzzes again. He checks the caller ID before excusing himself with a promise to return shortly. Left alone once again, I continue to color, letting my mind wander as I immerse myself in the task at hand.

Eventually, Raphaelle returns, his expression serious as he approaches me. "Bambina, I need to take care of some business tonight. It might take me a while. I'm sorry," he says.

I nod understandingly, though a pang of disappointment tugs at my heart. I had hoped we could spend more time together, but I know his duties come first. Again, it's a part of who he is.

"It's okay," I reassure him, offering a small smile. "I'll be fine here. I'm having fun."

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before straightening up. "I won't be long. And if you need anything, just let the guard know, okay?"

"Guard?"

"You'd think I'd leave you unprotected? No way, bambina. Though at my house, there are still potential threats around. Giancarlo is just outside the door. You've met him before." Oh... okay.

With a nod, I watch him leave the room. My feelings for Raphaelle are growing. I feel... attached in a way. And as I return to my coloring, all I can think about is him. His voice... how it sends shivers down my spine. His hands... how they feel as they brush against my skin. Everything about him is inviting me in.

Lost in my thoughts, I continue to color, in awe of my crayons against the paper. It's a simple pleasure, yet it feels like everything.

As time passes, the room grows dimmer, the only source of light coming from the soft glow of the lamp beside me. I hear faint murmurs from the hallway outside, a reminder of him. I find I miss his touch already.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door interrupts my reverie, causing me to look up in surprise. Giancarlo, stands in the doorway, a reassuring smile on his face.

"Everything okay in here?" he asks, his voice gentle yet filled with authority.

I nod, offering him a small smile in return. "Yes, everything's fine. Thank you."

He nods in acknowledgment before stepping back. As he closes the door behind him, I return to my coloring.

Then before I know it, Raphaelle's crouching down beside me again. "It's time for bed, baby. Come on," he holds out his hand for me. But I pout, giving signals that I'm not in the mood for walking. Not now at least.

Raphaelle chuckles softly at my reluctance, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You want me to carry you?"

I nod. Yes, please.

Raphaelle scoops me up effortlessly, cradling me in his arms as if I weigh nothing at all. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"I like being in your arms," I murmur softly, my words barely above a whisper.

He chuckles again, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I bet you do. Another Little trait of yours. You know, I'd rather you ask for upsies than pout, bambina. "

We reach the bathroom, and Raphaelle gently sets me down on the vanity beside the sink.

Raphaelle flashes me a playful grin as he reaches for a toothbrush and toothpaste. "Alright, time to brush those little pearly teeth of yours."

I wrinkle my nose at the thought but obediently open my mouth as he applies the toothpaste to the brush. The minty freshness fills the air as he guides the brush along my tiny teeth, his movements gentle yet thorough.

"There we go, all sparkly clean," he declares with a satisfied smile, ruffling my hair affectionately.

I giggle at the sensation before hopping down from the vanity.

As he carries me back to the bedroom, I find myself yawning, the events of the day finally catching up to me.

Raphaelle tucks me into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Sleep tight, little one," he whispers, pressing another kiss to my forehead. Gosh... I wish they'd just go for my lips already.

I snuggle into the pillows, feeling safe and content in his presence. "Goodnight, Raphaelle," I murmur sleepily.

With a soft chuckle, Raphaelle dims the lamp and settles into the chair beside my bed, "is that my name?"

Oh... he's... oh. "Goodnight... daddy."