Shut up!

No, I'm not finished!

You bet your bloody ass your finished. How dare you go out of this house and act the way you did?

So, I had a few drinks. I wasn't even near wasted

Every time you step outside that door you are representing your empire, not to mention my own!
What? The club had nothing to do with our empires.

How little you know your own world. Odin Volkov owns that club. Egor Volkov's son. The Russian drug lord, the Russian drug lord that I just happened to be making a deal with tonight.

What the hell does that have to do with me?

Well, because you do kindly asked. Because of our fathers' deal, your face is now the face of my business that I have spent nine years building. I don't need nor want, a pretty little princess like you screwing that up!

Excuse me? How dear you speak to me like that? You can't speak to me like that!

I can speak to you however I wish, especially the way your acting

The way, I'm acting. What about the way you've been acting? This is the most you've spoken to me since our wedding.

Oh, you want me to speak to you. Okay, I'll do you one better. From now on we're going to spend every waking minute with each other, until you can be trusted to behave yourself outside of these walls.

What? Hell no!

No. I think it's a great idea. Then maybe I'll get the Queen that I was promised, not some little princess!

You heartless bastard. I wish to God that I had never ever married you.

That was one of the worst fights we ever had. I didn't handle our marriage during those early days.

Eliza was like a foreign creature. My poor social skills had made it difficult to understand her ways and my animal instincts had failed me further.

That moment had been the hardest pill to swallow. The anger and hurt in her eyes had touched a part of me that I didn't know was there. For the first time in my life, I was hated by someone that I was supposed to love. Even if I knew that I couldn't, it still felt like a kick to the stomach.

I had to have a drink to calm down. Garrick was the only one who had the guts to come into the bar. To be honest, if it had been anyone else, I would have told them to get lost.

But instead, he took a seat at a stool, grabbed the bottle of the scotch that I had on the bar and accepted the glass that I had offered.

And just like it had been any other day, he said, "it's been a rough night?"

If I hadn't been so furious, I would have laughed.

"I'm failing as a husband," I told him, taking a sip of the heavenly drink.

He nodded, "yep."

"Any advice?" I asked.

He was one of the only people I ever would. Going through college, while I was wasting time with pointless relationships, he was involved with the same girl he was with in high school.

He shrugged, "Patrick, you and I both know why this is difficult for you."

I nodded, taking another drink.

"But, yelling at her in public might not be a good start."

"She went behind my back, what did she think I would do?!" I yelled, reaching boiling point, "I told her not to go out and she understood. Next thing I know, I'm making sure that none of us are getting arrested and your telling me that my wife is at a fricking night club. Not only that, she is making Nickola disobey my orders."

"Okay, you know that Nickola only went so that she wouldn't get into trouble, right?" He questioned.

"Of course," I reassured him, "but you know what I'm going to have to do."

He nodded, with knowing eyes. Back then, I needed my men on my side more than ever.

Blinking my eyes opened, I returned to the present. I was in my room, the curtains still drawn.

Last night events were slowly coming back to me. From dinner to our argument. The feelings of guilt came with the memory just as I rolled over to begin my apology.

I stopped short when I found the space next to me empty.

"Eliza?" I called out, sitting up on my elbows.

My head turned to the opened bathroom, but found it empty. Where had she gone?

Kicking away the covers, I planted my feet firmly on the carpet. Waiting a second for my eyes to come into focus, I stood and headed for the door. I didn't even bother getting dressed.

Even from the stairs, I could hear the clanging coming from the kitchen. Was someone robbing my house? No, that would be ridiculous. I would kill them before they even got through the door.

I was not prepared for the sight I was about to see. Mrs Philips sitting at the bench, flicking through a magazine like it was her day off. Eliza, however, was pacing around the kitchen like a headless chicken, rambling of sentences that didn't make sense. Whatever she was cooking in the pan was hissing and crackling, like a wounded animal.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked them, watching their head shoot towards me like a dear in the headlights.

Once they realized that I was here, Eliza began to groan and rub her forehead, "you were supposed to stay in bed."

My frowned only deepened, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to cook you breakfast as an apology for last night," she cried, stamping her foot as I cautiously made my way over to her.

"But you can't cook -."

"I know!" She whimpered, taking the spectacular and trying to fix what I think was scrambled eggs.

Turning my head toward Mrs Philips, my eyes narrowed, "and what were you doing?"

Continuing to flick through her magazine, she shrugged, "she said she didn't want help."

"Seriously?" I asked, surprised by her attitude. 

I was use to her tough love attitude towards me, but it was new for her to act like this around Eliza. 

"Eliza, what are you trying to do?" I asked her, pinching her elbow.

"I don't know. I was trying to do something for myself, but clearly I can't do anything!" She yelled before falling to the floor in a sulk.

For a second I was frozen, not sure where I went wrong. Even to this day, women were still a mystery to me. Looking down at her, I raised an eyebrow.

"Your going to get off this floor and your going to cook me breakfast," I told her, not taking no for an answer. 

She tilted her head with helpless eyes, "I can't do it, Patrick. I guess you were right."

I sighed, shaking my head, "Eliza, your going to take my hand and like we do everything else, we're going to fix this."

Her eyes softened at that before becoming glued to my offered out hand. With a small smile, she took it and allowed me to pull her to her feet.

Not missing a beat, I got right to it by taking the burnt out pan and immediately throwing it in the sink.

"Right, get out another carton of eggs and milk," I told her, reaching up to the top cupboard and took out a small bowl.

Shutting the cupboard door, I turned around, almost running into her in the process. She glared at me at first before a cheeky smile began to form on her lips.

"Okay, bring it over here," I told her, sitting the bowl down on the island bench.

She nodded, doing as I asked.

Opening the carton, I took an egg, cracked it on the edge of the bench and broke it so that the yoke escaped into the bowl.

"When did you learn how to cook?" She asked me, as I took another egg.

"Mmm, when I was avoiding my father, I hid in the kitchen and watched Mrs Philips cook," I told her, avoiding Mrs Philips gaze, knowing that she was listening.

"Eventually, I had no choice but to teach him something," she added, with a smile.

Eliza giggled, taking the fourth egg. I watched her with amusement as she struggled to crack the egg, clearly cautious. Refusing to help her, she eventually got it but dropped a few bits of the shell in the bowl.

"Okay, now you've got to pick out the shell," I instructed, sticking my finger in the slimy liquid, trying to pick out the shells.

"This is so gross," Eliza giggled, enjoying it.

I laughed at her, not helping to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Once all the pieces of shell was out of the bowl, I took the milk and poured a bit in.

"Do you want to get out the beacon, tomatoes, onion and mushrooms?" I asked, watching her nod and head to the double freezer.

As she did, I went to the draw to fish out a whisk and a board.

"Alright, I want you to chop up the bacon, tomatoes and onion," I ordered, watching her nod and prepare herself for the task.

She was so cute. As she did, I found a pan in the draw underneath the stove before scooping it out and placing it on the glass stove top.

"Oo, aren't we causal today?" Alberto's voice echoed behind me, reminding me that I was only in sweat pants. 

"Couldn't be bothered to get dress this morning, Patrick I see?" Piero teased, going straight for the coffee.

I glared at both of them, not having a distant comeback to comment with.

"I like it," Eliza stood up for me, "you should do it more often."

I smiled back at her, going for the oil that sat by the stove.

"Well, if he's allowed to come down in his pyjamas, then so am I," Piero protested turning on the kettle. 

"Come on, Piero, no one wants to see that in the morning," Alberto told him, with a disgusted face.

"Excuse me, unlike you, I own pyjamas," he corrected, pouring the coffee into his mug.

Alberto shrugged, "unlike you, I don't need them."

"Okay, okay, that's enough," I stopped them, before they took out their tape measures.

They just shook me off and went back to drinking their coffee. Focusing back on Eliza, I checked on her progress. She had done as I asked and had sliced up the bacon, onion and tomatoes.

"We can put this in the pan now," I told her, taking the opportunity to brush her jacket covered arm.

She nodded, taking the board and walking over to the stove. Without telling her, she scraped the ingredients off the board with a knife. Good girl.

"Morning," Nickola stumbled in, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Late night again, Nickola," Piero joked, as Alberto nudged him in the shoulder.

"Yeah," he yawned, reaching out for the kettle.

"I thought we had an agreement," I reminded him, crossing my arms.

"But, I'm not late," he pointed out, pouring coffee into a mug.

This was true.

"Nickola, why don't you just invite Zoey over? Your allowed to," Eliza told him, sending alarm bells in my head.

It was bad enough I had to put up with her on the weekends or when she insisted on taking Eliza out to clubs. I couldn't handle her here twenty-four-seven distracting Nickola. Both Alberto and Piero had their faces in their mug trying to hide their smirks as Nickola's eyes flicked between Eliza and me in a panic. I gave him a warning look, hoping - for his sake - he would listen to. 

"No, I think it's fine," he reassured her with a nervous chuckle.

Good Nickola.

"What are we talking about?" Antonio asked as he and Garrick joined us.

"Zoey staying here so Nickola can do his job?" Alberto filled him in.

Immediately, Garrick shot me a look. I could only reply with a roll of my eyes and return my focus on Eliza who was now whisking the eggs as the other ingredients cooked.

"I think it's okay. I like her," Antonio stated, making me almost choke on my tongue.

"Really?" Piero and I spat at the same time.

Everyone turned to us. Piero had the same feelings towards her the moment she began to negotiate him on his life.

"Okay, Patrick," Eliza sighed, patting my chest, "we all know how you feel about her."

I sighed and rolled my eyes as my response to that.

"I never said that he couldn't see her," I pointed out, tilting my body so that I was faced on with her.

"Well, I'm glad. Because this is something you can't control. You have no idea how hard I worked to get them together."

"Hey -."

"Be quiet, Nickola. This doesn't concern you," she shut him down, causing the boys to chuckle.

"Oh really," I smiled, a little impressed as I crossed my arms and raised a brow, "so I guess that's how it's going to happen?"

She nodded, "yep. Now, how do you know when it's done?"

I peered over her shoulder and found the eggs were perfectly mixed with the other ingredients and were puffy and yellow.

"I think they're good," I told her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Her smile warmed my heart and made everything worth it.