A week passed by trying to talk to Adrian, who always seemed to be missing from his own house. She wondered what his job really was. He could be an assassin, and she wouldn't know about it. He could be a cold-blooded murderer and a ring leader of sorts, and she wouldn't know about it.

Adrian kept to his word.

Zara was allowed to continue her life.

She was given a secure laptop that she could use to attend her classes virtually and submit assignments. She had sent an email to her Professors about it, stating that there was a family emergency and she was out of town and that was the reason she couldn't attend classes. Everyone sent her the assignments that she needed to do and that kept her mind occupied.

Except for one thing.

Where was her aunt?

There was no way that she would not answer her calls or leave town without telling her. Or maybe she thought that Zara was staying over with Mal at the range and left a note, which Zara hadn't come across because she was captive in the middle of nowhere.

But the calls.

Aunt Jean would never not answer her calls.

No matter what.

It was an unsaid rule between them that no matter where they were, no matter what was going on with them, they would always pick up each other's calls. They had only each other and that made them a closer unit than ever.

Zara told Adrian to keep her updated about her aunt, although he was still surprised that she had family. She asked Adrian how he knew so much about her anyway and he only gave her a smug smile in answer. "Just because you are a mafia boss doesn't mean that you can intrude on anyone's personal life."

"I have my resources and don't worry, your personal life is safe. I've kept your identity hidden so that the Ferraras don't get to you."

"Should I thank you for it then?"

He cocked his head at her. "You do seem to thank me a lot."

She pointed to herself. "Prisoner."

Zara started to stay up late at night and from the window of her room, kept track of the timings of the bodyguards and the shifts that they took. She noted them down and saw that it was consistent everyday.

That was her out.

At the end of a long week of continuous assignments, Zara had one more curiosity that she wanted to fulfill. What was on the second floor above her? She would hear soft thuds and always wondered what there was. She could have asked Adrian about it but he was the one holding her captive. She had every right to go around the house and he had told her to use the swimming pool, which was an invitation for her to check the rest of the house out.

And so, bracing her mind since Adrian thought that she couldn't handle gory news, preparing herself to witness a murder chamber, Zara walked up the staircase to the second floor. Marvin couldn't scold her for not going there because no one had told her that it was restricted. So she shouldn't be facing any trouble based on her actions.

Or would she?

The staircases ended in a small area and on her right were two large double doors. She paced the area for a while as she theorised what could lie beyond the doors. It could be anything and her imagination was going off the charts.

Murder chamber?

Staircases that would lead to the attic?

Ballroom?

Murder chamber?

A master bedroom?

A secret room?

Murder chamber?

She took a deep breath as her hand clutched one of the handles. "Let's do this." She told herself and opened the doors.

Her jaw fell open when she saw what the room was.

A library.

The biggest one she had ever seen in someone's home.

An entire floor with only books.

"No way!" Her voice echoed through her dream room. There were endless shelves of books with a study table in the middle of the room. She wondered what the books were of and then wondered if she should ask its owner about it first.

Maybe she should stay like Adrian had suggested.

No, Zara. Don't think that. This cannot be what tempts you to give into male power.

"So you've finally found the library."

Zara could have sworn that her heart leapt out of her chest. She jumped a little as she turned around to look at Adrian leaning against the sill between the doors with his hands over his chest. He was wearing normal clothes instead of his usual suit.

"You scared me!" She held her forehead, getting a hold of her breath again.

"I apologise." He walked into the room and stood beside her. "This is my family's library." He said. "All of us have had a liking towards collecting books that we like. It's the only legacy that we pass down that doesn't involve blood."

Dark humour. Gotcha, she thought. "I hope you have good books here."

"You'll find only the collector's editions here. And you're allowed to use it whenever you want." He smiled as he walked inside, going forward with his day.

Zara had two choices. She could turn back and come back later when he wasn't there, but both of them had ignored each other enough. The mansion wasn't that big to keep both their egos trapped.

And so, she started to follow him around while taking a look at the books. There were both literary works and young-adult novels there. There were some books about the mafias themselves that she was tempted to take.

She looked around her and saw a painting on the right wall. "What about that?" She asked, pointing to the one about a cottage that she had only seen in 'The Holiday'.

"I wanted to put it up there. It was gathering dust in my room anyway." He said, staying behind on the closer bookshelves, picking out the books that he needed.

"You made it?" She gaped at what he was implying.

"What? Can't a murderer be a painter?"

She frowned at the sight of his tousled head in between the books. "I just can't imagine you being a painter, that's all."

But the colours used on the canvas and the signature on the bottom right corner was unmistakable. He had painted it after all. He did have a past that he didn't want to talk about. But she wanted to know more about him. All the papers that she had written in her four years in college only reminded her of the opportunity in front of her.

She could talk to the mafia leader herself.

"What happened during the war?"

He looked up at her from the book that he held in his hand. "Looking for another topic for an assignment?" She frowned at him once again. "Relax. I'm kidding." He stacked two books on top of each and walked around the bookshelves to get closer to her and lean against the table that stood against the wall below the painting.

"It all started with the Council Meeting of 1988."

*****
Obviously, this is only the first draft.
If I do write the other books, I may
bring changes to this draft.
Hope you like it so far!