I thought Patrick would be a mess after the funeral. He was worse. He took to his work instead. I had barely seen him all week. He came home after I had gone to sleep and left before I woke. The only evidence that he had been home at all was the new pile of washing left in the basket in the morning. Other than that, he had been a ghost.

I didn't know how to help him. 

"He'll be fine," Mrs Philips told me, as she cleaned the dishes.

It must have been written all over my face.

"How do you know? I haven't seen him in a week. I don't know if he's eating, I don't think he's sleeping, I don't know what to do," I ranted, waving my arms about.

"Be his wife," she told me, with a little amused chuckle.

"How can I when he won't let me?" I asked, "I never realized how important the girlfriend part is to a relationship till now. I thought I had mastered the whole wife thing when I started sleeping with him."

She snorted, both from shock of my bluntness and my naivety to what it means to be a wife.

"That's because this is your first crisis as a couple," she explained.

I frowned, "first crisis? This feels like our tenth crisis."

"No, no, no. Your father's death was before you were serious about each other and the casino, well, that's a different crisis all together. So, this is your first emotional crisis," she explained better.

I scoffed, stamping my foot, "well, how do I fix it? Patrick's been so distant. We haven't spoken since the funeral and even that, it wasn't much. I thought he would be a mess like I was."

"Patrick Maestri, a mess?" She scoffed in disbelief, "Patrick was never going to be one to crumble over his father's death."

"No, just throw himself into his work," I spat.

"He's busy," she said giving me a look before turning on the tap, "he's trying to keep you safe from Sebastian Drago."

"I know that but can't he talk to me about it?" I asked her.

She shrugged, wanting to say what I wanted to hear, but just couldn't, "maybe he just, can't."

Definitely not what I wanted to hear.

My heart leaped into my throat when the French doors to the dining room opened. Please be Patrick, please be - it was Garrick.
I had barely seen him in a week either. He looked tried with small creases at the corner of his eyes and he was out of breath by the time he got to the bench.

"Mrs Philips, can I get five sandwiches please?" He panted, looking on the verge of collapsing.

"Just for you?" She teased, moving over to the bread cupboard.

"No," he huffed, "but we've got three hours before Patrick wants to go again. I've sent the others to shower and get some sleep while I get the food. So..."

Patrick was all I took from his answer and it made my eyes wide with hope.

"Patrick's home?" I asked, feeling my heart pound with nerves.

Finally I was going to see him. But which Patrick, I didn't know.

Garrick shook his head, giving me that look that I've seen so many times.

"No way, Lizzy. Don't you go anywhere near him," he ordered.

I couldn't believe his request. He was talking as if Patrick was some rabid animal that would kill on sight.

"Come on, Garrick. Haven't you learnt anything?" I scoffed, "I never do what I'm told when it comes to Patrick."

"Exactly. And how has that worked out for you?"

Well, it hadn't ended great. But things were different now. I was different now.

"I'm going to go see my husband, Garrick," I told him, not taking no for an answer. 

He sighed, looking up to the ceiling, "I tried."

I rolled my eyes, but I wasn't going to stick around for him to stop me.

"Wait," Mrs Philips called me back, "if your going to go on a suicide mission at least make sure he eats something."

I nodded and took the sandwiches that she had offered.

With new determination to see Patrick and make him eat, I paced towards the void and up the stairs. I could hear rustling coming from the study and the familiar thudding of Patrick's feet on the carpet. Ignoring my racing heart, I pulled my shoulders back and opened the glass door.

I frowned when I found Patrick behind his desk, searching through the draws. He looked like he had aged five years. His hair was a mess, the stubbles on his face were long and his eyes were worn. He had been so lost in his own little world that he hadn't even realized that I was watching him.

"Patrick -."

Click

My heart jumped into my throat when he pointed a gun at my face. I froze at the sight of the darkness in his eyes, the death grip he had on the gun.

Blinking, he returned to me and lowered the gun to the desk.

"Damn," he whispered, shaking his head in guilt, "Eliza, forgive me. I thought you were..."

He didn't finish.

"That's okay," I reassured him, entering with cautious, "I brought you something to eat."

I placed the sandwiches on the desk, praying he would take it.

"No, I've got no time too. I want to be out there as soon as I can," he said, pushing them away and pacing over to the filing cabinet.

"Patrick, the boys are exhausted, your exhausted. Just eat something."

"I can't waste time on this, alright!" He snapped, slamming the cabinet close, "every minute I spend here, Sebastian Drago is getting closer to us."

Finally, he wasn't in denial about Drago.

"And I get that but -."

"Well, clearly you don't get it Eliza otherwise you wouldn't be here!" he yelled.

I refused to be insulted or yelled at for that matter. If Patrick was going to push to get me out of bed. I was going to push to get him in it.

"I'm here, because my husband needs my help," I told him, not recognising the anger in my voice.

"No I don't, I fine," he snapped, moving back over to his desk.

"Well, I don't believe you," I told him, "look, I get it. Your father's dead and -."

"This isn't about Oscar," he tried to convince me, "this is about, trying to get ahead of Drago before someone else is dead."

"Well, tell me about it. Talk to me, Patrick," I begged him, "don't shut me out."

"I'm not trying to shut you out -."

"Then talk to me," I begged, hoping he wouldn't shut me out anyway, "have you gotten any further with the hit group? O-or the people that ran your father off the road."

He was still for a moment before folding, "we've questioned three out of five from Blood. The only thing we could get out of them was that they were paid by an African company but they didn't know the name."

"So, it could be Drago?" I asked.

"I don't know. I don't know how Drago could be connected to an African company. He's Italian for Christ sakes," he said.

"But, you think it's a possibility right?" I questioned.

"I don't know what to think," he answered truthfully, still sounding a little annoyed.

But he was talking.

"What about the car crash? Have you figured out anything from that?" I asked him.

He sighed but nodded, "we got the license plate number of the car. We're running the number now."

I nodded, pleased of what he had achieved. But now it was time for him to eat, have a shower and get some sleep.

"Okay, now how about you take a couple of hours off?" I suggested, immediately making him protest.

"No, I'm leaving in half n hour," he told me, getting something out of the draw.

Ammo?

"But what about the boys?" I frowned, remembering Garrick had said that they had a few hours, not a few minutes, "Garrick said that they had a few hours rest."

"I know, I need them to be at their best," he stated.

"But you can't be?"

He ignored me.

I had had enough. Patrick was going to get into that bed even if I had to shoot him.

Pacing around the desk to him, I took his hand in mine. Instantly, his froze and my touch.

"Patrick, come to bed. Just for a few hours," I tried to convince him.

"Eliza, I need to get out there," he told me, trying to pull out of my grip.

It wouldn't give.

"Patrick, your not leaving this house until you've eaten, had a shower and had some rest," I told him, sternly, not taking a no for an answer.

He narrowed his eyes at me, testing me, "seriously? Your ordering me?"

"Yes. Because I'm the boss of you when your trying to get yourself killed," I said, hoping I would at least win a smile.

I didn't. But he at least, dropped the ammo on the desk and allowed me to take his hand. I took the sandwiches and led him out of the study.

Once we were in the bedroom, I felt proud of what I had accomplished. Patrick had actually listened to me. We really must be married after all.

"Okay, you hop in the shower and I'll put a movie on," I told him, placing the plate down on the coffee table.

I was surprised that he didn't argue. Instead he stripped off and walked into the bathroom. I found my heart racing and my teeth biting my lip at the sight of him. I really had missed him.

While Patrick had been away, I had snuck in a couple of my DVDs from my room. It had been the only way I could fall asleep now that I was so use to falling asleep next to him.

They were mostly chick flicks like Love Actually, Maid of Honour and the Notebook. But I picked out one that was my favourite and put it in the DVD player.

I kicked off my heels and stripped off as well. Walking over to the bedside table, I found a pair of underwear and a singlet. The DVDs weren't the only thing that I had moved. I then took my robe and tired it on. Taking the plate, I curled on top of the bed and waited for Patrick.

After fifteen minutes also, he came out the steamy room in only a towel and had shaved. I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face. I had actually gotten him to have a shower. He disappeared into the wardrobe before coming out in some black sweat pants.

"Okay," he sighed, climbing onto the bed next to me, "what are we watching?"

"Twenty-seven dresses," I told him, waiting for his mouth to drop.

His reaction was priceless. Opened mouth and eyes widening.

"A chick flick? Really?" He protested straight away.

"What? It's a good movie," I argued.

He shook his head, almost disappointed in me.

"Look, I'm trying to get you to sleep. What better way to do that than to put a chick flick on? You'll be out like a light," I told him.

He raised a brow as his deadly eyes continued to burn through my skin. I ignored them, lifting my head up high and playing the movie. I would have been lying if I said that my new taste of authority wasn't great.

"Eat," I ordered, waving the sandwiches in his face.

He groaned, but took a half anyway.

Quarter way through the movie, Patrick and I had closed the gap between us and snuggled closely together. I think Patrick was actually enjoying it, at least pretending to anyway.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. The tall one is in love with the boss but wants to bone the skinny one?" Patrick asked, pointing at the screen.

I snorted, both at his explanation of characters and his secret interest in the movie.

"Not exactly. She's in love with her boss and hates the skinny one," I told him, trying to give him as little detail about the end of the movie as possible.

"But the sister is getting with the boss?" He asked.

I nodded, "yep, but she doesn't know that the tall one is in love with him."

He nodded, but still looked confused, "why doesn't she just sleep with him? Then maybe he might be interested."

"She's not that type of girl," I told him, nudging him in the rib.

He shrugged, "you said that too. It didn't take much to get you to sleep with me."

"Excuse me," I gasped, nudging him harder, "that's not the version of the story I know."

He chuckled before squeezing me a little. It was the first time I heard him laugh since we found out about Oscar. I hadn't realised how much I had missed the sound till then.

"I'm really sorry about your father," I told him, taking a hold of his hand and giving it a good squeeze, "I do know what your going through."

He nodded, but he didn't quite believe me, "your father wasn't a bastard like mine. He wasn't a good man."

I nodded, understanding why he was so upset, "you said that he was once. I mean, your parents might not have loved each other at the start but surely he felt something for her. When she died, something inside of him must have -."

"Cracked?" He shook his head, "your father loved your mother more than Oscar ever did. But Nicholas chose to love you anyway."

"My father wasn't perfect," I reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. But, he was perfect to you," he said, nuzzling my cheek with his nose, my Patrick returning.

"I'm not going to be like him," he told me, "when we have kids, I'm going to be the hero in their stories instead of the villain."

My heart felt like it was about to burst at the thought. The sight for a little baby in Patrick's big strong arms, loving him just as much as I did.

"I give you my word, Eliza. I will love them as much as..." he didn't finish, but he didn't need too.

I knew what he was going to say.

Looking up at him, I managed a smile, "I know. Me too."

He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling bright. He knelt down and took my lips. My heart jumped into my throat at their familiar touch, reminding me of what I had missed. God their taste, their feel, the way they sucked, everything.

"Wait, wait," he groaned, breaking from me and fighting himself, "there's a few things we need to sort out."

I frowned and pulled back, "you breaking up with me?"

He snorted and shook his head, brushing my cheeks with the backs of his fingers, "never. But, this whole Drago has got me worried."

"Yeah, me too," I told him.

He was the bloody reason I hadn't seen Patrick in a week.

"It's got me thinking. We should go to the safe house. Just to be sure."

I frowned, "safe house?"

"Yeah. It's on the other side of the city. I bought it for extreme purposes. I think this is extreme."

I nodded, a little scared to say anything more, "so, what's the plan?"

"Well, there's not many people that we can trust. Maybe Paige Caivano -."

"Paige Caivano?" I frowned, "what does she have to do with it?"

"Well, if Drago is behind this then I'm hoping his next target is me. It would be better if we spilt up," he explained, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, "and if Drago is back Paige will be our only ally."

"I thought you said that Paige was on the fence about the whole one Mafia thing?" I questioned.

He nodded, "exactly. Which means she's more on our side than Harald Balboni."

I nodded, accepting it and nuzzling his bare chest. I didn't know what unsettled me more. Having to trust Paige Caivano or being separated from Patrick again.

"Promise me you won't go away again," I begged, "I know your worried about Sebastian and your dealing with grief. But I'd rather have you than be safe."

"There's no point of anything unless we're safe, Eliza. You have to understand that," he told me.

"I know, I know," I sighed, knowing he would say that.

"But I promise. No more going away. I'll make arrangements for you and Nickola to go to the safe house first. And then I'll follow a couple days later. Okay?" He suggested.

I nodded, still not liking the option. I knew the plan was best. Spilt up in hope that Drago will be watching Patrick's every move so that I can make a clean break for safety. It was good. I just didn't like it.

"I really am sorry about before. I never want you to be afraid of me," he told me, making me swallow at the memory of the gun being pointed at me.

"I know," I said, pulling back to look in his face, "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

Before I knew it, I had his lips on mine. His hand slid into the waistband of my panties, slowly pulling them down. I took a page out of his book and did the same to his sweat pants finding nothing but skin.

"Patrick," I moaned as he moved his lips to my neck, "love me."

"Yes, of course, Amore," he whispered, "where, Angelo? Where do you want to be loved?"

His hand slipped around to my ass, squeezing the cheek.

"All over," I breathed, my breasts wanting to burst from my singlet.

"You really have missed me," he moaned, taking my lips hungrily.

I found myself on my back and Patrick's heavy body weighing me down.

We pealed off our clothes in a hurry, eager to touch, kiss and love each other. Patrick's lips where like electric shocks to my skin as they kissed their way to the peek of my nipple.

"God, I'm such a fool," he moaned, causing my breathing to deepen, "how could I go so long without you?"

A smile spread across my face, happy that he had come addicted to me like I had him. The need I felt for him overwhelmed me. It caused my stomach to stir with want and between my legs to ache.

"Tell me you want me too?" He growled against my throbbing nipple.

"God, yes," I sighed, my body burning alive.

He kissed down to my belly, groaning as I ran my hands through his hair. His hands ran down my legs, taking my thighs and lifting them to his shoulders.

"Patrick," I moaned, my head not fully connected to my lips, "I don't want to use a condom."

He stopped and lifted his head with worry in his eyes. I swallowed, regretting my decision.

"Where are you in your -?"

"I had my period last week," I told him, hoping he would say yes.

I didn't know if it was the talk of children or the need I had for him growing, but I just had to have him.

Dropping my legs from his shoulders, he crawled back to the top of the bed to my lips. He covered them again, invaded my mouth with his delicious tongue. His hands supported my head like it was the only thing that mattered. And I knew, deep down, that was love.

Leaving me breathless, he suckled back on my harden nipples that begged to feel his touch. I was left stirring at the feel of his hand massaging my thighs, every so often, a finger dipped in.

And then, it wasn't his finger. I cried out at the first touch of his heat inside me. My body became possessed underneath him, stirring as his slowly filled me.

"God, Eliza," he moaned into my stomach, "this feels so damn good."

Damn right it did. To have nothing between us. Just skin on skin. It was the best feeling in the world.
He replaced my legs onto his shoulders and started to thrust. First quick like a bullet before slowly pulling half way out. I grunt each time, feeling my breasts go flying and the fire between my legs slowly spreading. He did it again, hitting my clit at the same time. I couldn't help but scream to the heavens for mercy at this pleasurable torment.

"Tell me how much you need me," he husked, about it loose control.

"I do, I d-do," I breathed, closing my eyes and allowing the words to flow, "I need you in my body, o-on my b-breasts."

I felt him twitch inside of me as his pace started to quicken. In a daze, I felt him take my arms and pull them to the side of my head.

"Where else?" He growled, slightly changing his direction.

I screamed out, pulling back as the pressure started to come too much. The waves had start to set in as my body convulsed without