I wake to the feeling of soft fingers gracing my cheeks. It's a warm feeling. Something I can get used to. I smile at the touch, opening my eyes.

"Good morning," his soft voice hums out like an angelic tune.

When he speaks like this, it's easy to forget what he does for a living. It's easy to forget the blood on his hands... it's so easy. It's honestly hard to envision it. It's hard to comprehend how the two can be the same person. Because the way he is now, with me, it's so different.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks softly, fingers still brushing gently against my skin. "Good," I whisper, relishing in the feeling of his touch.

"That's good, baby. Chef's making pancakes for breakfast. I'll give you a few minutes to adjust, but I want you to brush your teeth and get dressed as soon as you feel ready."

I nod, making his eyes harden. "Words, bambina. I want manners."

I swallow, "sorry, daddy."

He softens again, smiling slightly, eyes alight with pride, "it'll take time. I know that. But I won't be this lenient forever, baby."

I shut my eyes close, sighing, "it's just so new."

I reopen to see his gorgeous dark orbs watching me attentively, "I know, bambina. Daddy's just saying. I expect manners and I expect respect. In all things."

I nod, "yes, daddy."

His fingers travel agonizingly slow from my cheek down to my lips, brushing over them, leaving me with tingles down to my toes. "You're too gorgeous to even be real, d'you know that? It's taking me every bit of self-control not to take you down, baby."

My eyes pop, and I swallow hard. Did he just say that? I flush, grabbing my duvet, pulling it over my face, hiding away. How can someone be that bold? I could never.

He chuckles lightly, "this is exactly why I gotta keep it. You're so innocent and inexperienced. It's adorable." Then my duvet is pulled from my face, revealing every shade of red across my cheeks, "but you don't get to hide away from daddy. Ever."

I'm unresponsive, I don't know what to say. But I'm flushed and heated, feeling all sorts of unfamiliar emotions, that it's hard to wrap my head around it.

He cocks his head to the side, "bambina, don't worry about this. We won't do anything until you're ready. I'm not gonna kiss you or touch you until you beg me to. Your innocence is precious, and I'm not gonna take advantage of it. Regardless of how much I want you."

"O-okay," I stutter out.

"I'll give you a few minutes. Anything you want with your pancakes?"

"Uhm, do you have nutella?"

"I do, yes. But sugar is not healthy, bambina. I'll allow you nutella this time, but in any other circumstance, you'd have to wait until saturday evening for chocolate and candy. I need my baby-girl healthy."

Raphaelle leaves the room, and I'm overwhelmed by all these new impressions. Not nodding, fine, I can adapt to that, I think. But restricting sugar and candy to only saturday evenings? That will be a challenge. I throw my head back into the pillow. Jeez... this is all so... much.

I lay in silence for a while, before getting up to do as told, brushing my teeth and getting dressed. I'm in a tracksuit for the time being, opting for comfort rather than beauty. Hiding away the one way I can, I guess. He can't scold me for that. He can't get angry for it.

I wander down to the living area, looking for Raphaelle. I'm surprised by finding another female, a stunning figure, wearing a classy black tight dress. She's astoundingly beautiful. And now I regret wearing this tracksuit.

I feel awkward as I stand here, eyes frantically searching for Raphaelle. Jeez... this woman is intimidating. She must be a part of his... uhm, I don't know mafia thingy. Or maybe she's just equally threatened by me as I am of her. I don't know. And under her gaze, I feel my tears threatening to fall.

"Giulia?" Raphaelle calls in surprise, and I'm happy that he's near, though I'm still not sure where he is. I turn on my heel, and I'm so relieved. But I'm frozen, too scared to move an inch. There's something about this woman... she scares me.

The woman's heels are clicking harshly against the marble-tiled floor, and she's rushing past me, giving me a judging ice-cold glare as she passes by. I gulp. And the tears I wanted to contain falls uncontrollably. She's terrifying.

"Raphaelle!" She squeals, tone contrasting to her harsh appearance.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, voice harsh and cold, not matching her spirit.

"You told me to come by whenever, remember?"

My tears are staining my cheeks with salt, and they're getting itchy, but I'm incapable of moving. I can't even bring my fingers up to dry them away. I'm frozen in place.

He rolls his eyes, pushing her away. He confidently strides towards me, and then he pulls me into his chest. He plants a lingering long kiss on the top of my head. I feel safe, immediately. "Daddy's got you. Breathe. She can't hurt you. Okay?"

I breathe in, then out. His words are soothing, and they have a strange ability to make me forget about everything and just do. "Good job, bambina. Now I want you to go sit down by the breakfast table and wait for me. You think you can be a strong girl for daddy and do that?"

I nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, as if to silently ask permission not to speak. His eyes reply by softening, then he releases me, watching the woman with a hard gaze. Even she crumbles under his gaze, for her hardness falters. And apart from feeling awful, I feel a sense of victory from seeing that.

When away from her and in an entirely different section of the space, I feel immensely better. I find the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes and different sorts of toppings. And I smile as I see the nutella. Yummy. I love myself some nutella.

Raphaelle comes shortly after me, "I'm sorry about her," he says taking his seat opposite me.

"I-it's okay," I stutter. Though my eyes are pretty telling. They're puffy and red and dry.

He hardens, "no. It's not okay. She scared you. But do you need another spanking? Didn't you learn after last time? Do you need me to spank you harder? Hm? No more lying. Understand?"

I gulp, "yes."

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, "yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

He smiles approvingly, "remember your manners, bambina."

"I'm sorry. Uhm. Daddy."

"It's okay. But remember to reply properly next time."

"I will. I'm sorry."

There's a brief silence. Sexual tension is filling up the air. It's making me uncomfortable and nervous. I don't know how to deal with these emotions.

"What are you waiting for? Hm?" He asks, grabbing the plate of pancakes, holding it up for me.

I shrug, "I don't know? Permission?"

I take my fork and serve myself a few pancakes, "thank you."

"You're welcome. But you don't need my permission to eat, baby. As long as it's just us around the table, you don't have to wait."

I nod, "but, how could I know that?"

He nods, "I guess you couldn't have. But now you do."

I eye the large can of Nutella, biting my lip. He sighs at me, scoldingly, while handing it to me.

"What did I just tell you?"

"That I don't need permission?"

"Exactly. It wouldn't even be available if I didn't allow it."

I swallow, "I'm sorry. I just don't thrive at the idea of being spanked again."

He grins widely, "good. That means I've done my job right. Punishment spankings aren't supposed to feel good, bambina."

I cover my pancakes in nutella, feeling hot and heavy. I need to change the subject. I can't handle this.

"That's enough nutella, bambina."

Huh? I look at my plate. Did I really put on this much? When? How?

He chuckles lightly. "Am I making you nervous?" He asks, his voice a susurration.

I nod, picking up a piece with my fork, "you always have."

His eyes soften, "so I can tell. But you don't have to be."

I swallow. "But there are so many reasons why I should be."

And then the thoughts escape, shaking free from the bars I've tried to keep them caged.

"And what are those reasons?" He asks, voice soft like an angelic breeze.

I hesitate, scared of opening up, scared what his reaction will be.

"Sophia, I won't get angry. Just tell me."

I swallow, closing my eyes, refusing eye-contact, "it's just... what you do... there are so many things that can go wrong. A-and, what if somebody takes me a-and tortures me and I s-spill... I'd be dead anyway. And... what if I anger you one day? I don't know how you act when you're angry. But you terrify me enough when you're... well... the way you are when talking to everyone but me."

I'm shaking as I reopen my eyes. Raphaelle has found his way over to me. He's now crouching beside me. His hand reaches to rest against my chin, fingers soft like feathers. And a tear escape from my eye.

"How long have you been thinking like this?"

"Since the beginning."

He sighs, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek.

"And why haven't you told me? Hm? I can't read your mind, bambina. When you're scared, you 'tell' me. Haven't I made that point very clear?" His voice is soft, and soothing, the care evident.

Another tear escapes, falling slowly down onto his idex, "I was scared you'd get angry."

"Why would I get angry? It doesn't make any sense, bambina."

"Because, I don't know..." I breathe, letting the anxiousness break free.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen. No one will take you anywhere. And you won't even get a chance of telling anyone anything, because I won't let you in on a single detail. You have no reason to be afraid. You're not about this life. And I don't want you to be a part of it. All I want, is for you to be safe and happy, bambina. Don't you understand that?"

I nod, "I-I'm sorry."

I suddenly feel ashamed for even having these thoughts. He's done nothing but protecting me and spoiling me... and here I am, having these thoughts of doubt.

"Shhh. It's okay. But next time, tell me. Don't hesitate while these thoughts are creating chaos in your pretty little head. You just gotta trust daddy."

"Scoot in."

What? I furrow my brows questioningly.

"Since you have a hard time relying on me, I'mma have to teach you. Scoot in."

I still don't get it, but I do as told, scooting in, taking the next seat beside me.

He take my cutlery in hand, cutting up a bite of pancake, holding it up to my mouth.

"Open up for daddy."

My eyes widen. Is he serious?

"Be a good girl. Let daddy feed you."

Reluctantly, I open. The piece of pancake explodes in my mouth. Why does it feel even tastier when it comes from him? How does that even make sense?

"Good girl. Does that feel nice? Hm?"

I nod, "mhmm," I moan, savoring the taste of chocolate.

"See how nice it is when you trust daddy enough to take care of you? Hm? See how good you feel?"

Okay. I get his point now. I swallow. "Yes, daddy."

He cuts up another bite, bringing it to my lips. I accept with ease this time.

"See? There's improvement already," he praises softly.

I smile through my chewing, and I blush.

He continues to feed me, until my plate's empty and my stomach full. "Thank you," I say as I swallow my last bite.

"You're welcome, bambina," he smiles, kissing my forehead. "Daddy has to eat and then make a phone call. I want you to go wash your hands and go play. I'll come get you when I'm finished."

I raise my brows, "is this what it's gonna be like? You ordering me around, telling me what to do?"

He chuckles walking around the table and back to his seat. "Yes. And what's more, you already like it."

I stand up from my chair, "I'm not so sure about that Mr. arrogant."

"No? Then why are you standing up? Hm? And baby?"

I flush. Gosh... I hate it when he does that. "Yes?"

"Come here," he says lowly.

I tiptoe over to him. And though I'm towering above him as I stand, he still feels greater than me, I still feel below him.

"Place your hands on the table."

What? I gulp, doing as told. Then a stinging smack strikes my buttocks. Ouch.

"That's for calling me arrogant. That's not nice."

I lower my head, my hand going to caress my bum. "I'm sorry, daddy."

He grins, "I'm sure you are. Now get going."

I find my way to the playroom, washing my hands on the way. "I'm sorry, daddy," I whisper to myself as I feel the stinging sensation burning me down there. I distract myself with some coloring, feeling better when lost in my world. I guess I needed this.

I reach for the crayons. I lose myself in the swirls and shapes. And time passes quickly, before I know it Raphaelle is standing in the doorframe, watching me.

Caught off guard, I offer him a tentative smile, "how was your phone call?"

He steps into the room, "as expected. I'm not gonna go into detail. Wanna show me what you've colored?"

I glance up from my coloring. Despite the urge to pry, I resist, understanding his need for privacy. He's hiding this to keep me safe.

Setting aside my crayons, I motion for him to join me on the floor. He settles beside me, and those butterflies resurface again. I show him the pages I've finished, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but safe nonetheless.

His gaze sweeps over them, lingering on each detail with pride.

"You really are talented. Even at coloring, just look at the palette, you must think through what colors to use" he finally murmurs, his voice a whisper.

A blush creeps across my cheeks, and I duck my head in response. "Thank you," I reply.

He reaches out, his hand finding mine. Our fingers intertwine, and fireworks explodes inside my belly. Jeez... he's making me tingle. So badly. It's unmannerly. I flush crimson. All over my body. I feel... weird.

"You're adorable," he muses, eyes soft and luminous.

"Do you wanna continue?" He asks, and if not mistaken, mimicking baby-talk. And I have mixed feelings towards that. A part of me wants more, and another, more prominent, is ashamed. But his sorcery continues to work magic, and I feel more at ease with facing that shame, working through it. I nod.

"Twenty minutes. Then you'll have to get dressed, because this is not suitable for where we're going."

"We're going somewhere?"

"Yup. Asia's having a baby-shower," he rolls his eyes.

He reaches for my set of crayons, and I'm still tingling from his touch, "color me something, I'll pick something out for you to wear."

I nod. But then I come to remember how he said his sister lived in Italy. I remember Giancarlo specifically said the barista at the cafe was married to his sister, Asia. Does he have two sisters?

"Do you have two sisters?"

His brows furrows as he stands up, hands resting in the pockets of his pants, "no. Why are you asking?"

"Giancarlo said Asia was your sister?" Oh now I'm confused.

"What? When did he say that?" And I can tell he's confused as well, by the line on his forehead.

"Back at the cafe. Danielle... well, she wondered about the barista and your connection to him. She's crushing on him. But apparently he's married to your sister? Asia?" I explain.

He nods, connecting the pieces. "Asia is my father's second wife's daughter. A spoiled brat. So yes, I guess she's my sister in that sense, but she's not my blood, and I honestly can't stand her. But I guess I owe her. That's why I helped them with the cafe and all."

"Owe her?" I ask, not sure if I should be asking.

He shakes his head, "trust me, bambina. You don't want to know. Don't ask me about it again."

His words about Asia linger in the air, and I don't push it, reminded of what he told me at breakfast. There are certain details about his life and work that he just won't share, in order to protect me.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Okay? I'll come get you in twenty minutes."

I watch him leave the room. With a deep breath, I turn my attention back to the coloring book on the floor. As I continue to color, my mind drifts back to our conversation. What could he possibly owe Asia? The question is haunting, but I know better than to seek out more information.

The minutes tick by slowly, and I try to focus on the task at hand, allowing the colors to blend and bleed into each other, but it's hard when all I can think about are all the many possibilities of why he's owing Asia.

Suddenly, the sound of his footsteps echoes down the hallway, pulling me out of my reverie. He appears in the doorway, in his tailored suit. He looks... handsome. Terrifying, intimidating as hell, but very, very handsome. I bite my lip at the sight.

"Ready to go?" he asks, his voice smooth like velvet.

I nod, standing up. He holds out his hand, and I take it without hesitation, the electricity between us sparking and crackling. It's like New Years Eve, or 4th of July.

We step out into my room, and he's laid out a dress for me, a dress I hadn't packed with me. I'm surprised by the revelation, and I tilt my head up to see him, "you haven't...?" I ask, unsure how to finish my question.

I slide the dress off the hanger, feeling the luxurious fabric between my fingers. It's a deep peach. I glance up at him, my heart racing at the intensity in his gaze.

"You didn't have to," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirks, a devilish glint in his eyes, "I know. But I wanted to. Trust me, I have every intention of spoiling you. You better get used to it. I'll wait outside the door for you."

I don't know whether to be flattered or frustrated by his present. But as he turns away, I can't help but admire the way his suit hugs his muscular frame. The man is a walking, talking temptation, and I find myself drawn to him, in ways I never thought possible until just a couple of weeks ago.

I quickly change into the dress, feeling the smooth fabric glide over my skin. And when I step out of the room, he turns to face me, his gaze lingering on my form.

"Wow," he breathes, a hint of appreciation in his voice. "You look like a princess, baby."

I feel a rush of confidence at his reaction, a confidence I didn't know I possessed. He offers me his arm, and I loop mine through, literally feeling like a princess.

I link my arm with his, the heat of his body radiating against mine as we step out into the hallway. I steal a glance at him, his jawline sharp and defined, his eyes dark chocolate and piercing. A shiver runs down my spine. He's so handsome.

The journey to Asia's baby shower is a short one. I steal glances at him as he drives, his profile chiseled and perfect, the lines of his body exuding power and confidence, suitable for a man as him.

As we arrive at the venue, I'm immediately struck by the opulence and grandeur of the surroundings. The room sparkles with crystal chandeliers, the scent of flowers filling the air, the chatter of guests mingling echoes spaciously. Talk about extravaganza. What happened to balloons and popcorn?

He leads me through the crowd, heads turning as we pass, whispers and murmurs following. I feel a rush of adrenaline, and so I hold onto him tightly, even more than I did from before. All the people here... they're so dark, cold-faced, and I know they're dangerous.

Asia spots us and rushes over, her smile wide and bright, her embrace warm and genuine. By first impression, I don't understand what he has against her. "You made it!" she exclaims, her eyes dancing with delight.

He nods, the corner of his lips quirking up in a half-smile. I can tell it's forced. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replies smoothly, his voice monotone.

I watch the scene unfold, feeling like an outsider in a world that I do not belong in. But then his hand squeezes mine reassuringly, his touch grounding me.

I turn to him, my heart pounding with newfound understanding. "Why are you so cold towards her?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

He meets my gaze, his eyes holding a flicker of something unreadable. "I told you I don't like brats."

I gulp, taking mental notes. I don't ever want him to be this cold towards me.

My mind races with questions, but before I can voice them, Asia pulls me into the whirlwind of the baby shower festivities. Raphaelle is watching me like a hawk. I'm sure Giancarlo wherever he is, is too.

I catch glimpses of him across the room, his stoic expression never faltering. This is the Capo. This isn't the Raphaelle that I know, the daddy... uhm dominant. This is the cold-hearted killer that he is. This is the person Danielle meets when she looks at him, this is who he is to everyone but me. And I suddenly feel bad for everyone else, wishing they'd have a piece of the nice man that I get to know.

Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I seek him out in a quiet corner of the room. He sits with a few other men, all dressed in the infamous black suits. The wolves... so scary. But he instills that safety in me. I know they won't hurt me. Not unless he asks them to. Which I know and trust that he'll never do.

I approach him cautiously. "Are you okay?"

He turns to me, his eyes dark and curious. "Are you seriously asking if I'm okay?"

"I-I guess," I stutter, feeling every wolf's gaze on me. Jeez... can't they look away for one second?

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want you worrying about me. Daddy's fine. Did Asia bore you to death?"

I shake my head. "She's nice. I don't understand why you say she's a brat."

He chuckles, so does his flock of men, "I didn't say she wasn't nice. Anyone can be nice. But she's used to doing whatever she wants without ever facing punishments for her mistakes. So she does whatever she has to do to get it her way. She's kind and friendly, but not out of the goodness of her heart, bambina."

Oh...

"She's not like you. She doesn't doesn't do things for others without expecting reciprocation. But you, baby, you never expect anything, from anyone. Heck... you even feel bad for putting your foot down. Asia could use a little bit of your good heart."

I let his words sink in, pondering over the stark contrast between Asia and myself. If what he says is true. But I guess everyone paints a different picture of everybody. We all see people in different lights.

"You're such a good girl, baby," he continues, his voice low and husky, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. "You're so good for daddy."

I blush under his intense gaze, "I-" I begin, before I hide away in the crook of his neck making him chuckle in reaction.

"And you're adorable. Just look around, you're melting each one of my men."

He touches my chin gently, his eyes searching mine for something I can't quite name. "You're beautiful, baby. You're so so beautiful. And you're mine."