The drive in the car with Angelo was long and tiresome--driving from one end of New York to the other end was exhausting, though Angelo did keep it somewhat eventful by turning the radio on and also talking to you.

In fact, when the conversation had come up again, you had told Angelo that you weren't excited about it, and weren't ready to leave your family in such a big rush.

To move from Queens to Manhattan in such short notice was daunting already. You weren't ready to live with a whole other family for the rest of this contract's life.

"We're almost there," Angelo says,  looking up into the rearview mirror to make eye contact with you and flashes a reassuring smile at you.

You chuckle, making eye contact with the brown-eyed Italian. "Angelo, you keep saying that just about every five to ten minutes."

"Okay, this time I'm serious."

You smile softly, turning your head to look out the window, admiring all of the trees planted next to the sidewalks. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Out of the corner of your eye, there lied a house lying on the outskirts of the city that was inching closer and closer every time the car had made a turn or sped up.

It was a large house, sitting by itself--secluded from the rest of the neighborhood on a large green field of freshly cut grass, fenced off by a large iron gate with cars bustling in and out of the gate quicker than what seemed like the rush hour after everyone would leave from work.

Angelo sped by all the cars leaving the house and made his way around the neighborhood, eventually reaching the secluded house, driving up to the closed iron gate.

You swallowed, looking at the large gate, your eyes tracing over the black points at the top of it and followed down to its side where two men in black suits stood--one at each side of the gate, probably there to guard and keep unwanted visitors out.

You had seen similar places like this before. It was common in your father's line of work. It's not like you could let the police barge in on your front doorstep--you needed some sort of protection.

Among others, your father had his security too. Except, it wasn't as great as this. His was just a simple chain with a few guards at the entrance.

You turned away from your curious stare and looked at Angelo who seemed to be speaking to one of the guards.

"Yeah, I've got Cielo's secretary in the back with me," Angelo says, tilting his head to you.

You shift in your seat and cross your leg over your other one--your nerves getting the best of you.

Ahead of you, you see one of the guards move from their position at the gate and make their way towards your window, the large, suited guard knocked on your window, telling you to roll it down and you quickly follow suit, grabbing the handle of the roller and roll it down to view the large sturdy man in front of you.

The sturdy man stoops down to get to eye level with you. He smiles reassuringly before glancing at a piece of paper in his hand and looking back up at you.

The guard stands up and backs away from the vehicle, waving his hand to what seemed like the rest of the guards. "She checks out! Let them in."

And for some reason, you let out a relieved sigh, even though you knew you shouldn't have been stressed in the first place.

The large iron gate opens up slowly, followed by Angelo nodding to one of the guards before slowly pressing on the gas, the automobile pressed forward, rolling carefully on to the gravel driveway.

Immediately, your mouth opened up in awe as you came into view of the house. Now, only then did you realize when your father called this an estate.

The driveway opened up into a large green garden--the gravel lined with hedges, rose bushes, circling around a rather large lively fountain--large oak trees cascaded overhead the plants and gravel, providing shade for the gardeners who sat crouched down digging into the soil. Under one tree specifically, lied a small pond with a few wooden benches around it; small children sat on them with fishing rods in their hands and their mothers sitting beside them.

Ahead of the pond was the house--something that was still an amazement to you.

If there was one good thing about working in this job, was that it could make you rake in tons of money.

The house stood tall and wide--probably about three stories--beautiful patterns of earth-toned bricks made up its exterior with what looked like oak lining, and dark wooden railings along the terraces. Big, glass windows stood largely, the sunlight bouncing off the glass in quite the mannered way.

By the looks of the estate, it looked like it was summertime all the time here, though, the state of New York would tell you otherwise; it's cold frigid winters wouldn't let any shrub or tree go without wilting or have it's leaves fall down in the fall.

Shortly, the tour of the large gardens and your view of the house was cut when Angelo pulled up behind a line of black cars--that looked all too similar to yours--and stopped the car, the engine sputtering to a stop.

"Alright, we're here!" Angelo says almost too excitedly.

"Yeah," you mumble, still in awe of the grand house. "We're here."

"You go ahead and head inside, miss. I'll grab your bags and head up to your room, I'm sure the boss is waiting," He tells you while getting out of the car.

Go ahead and head inside? Immediately you feel a rise of panic in you. This area was far too new to just, go ahead and head inside. You weren't even sure where to begin looking for Cielo's office. You were sure the inside was going to be bigger than what it looked like on the outside.

Your heart was thumping against your chest and your eyebrows raised, your fingers fiddled with the fabric at the end of your skirt. "Go ahead? How do I know...?"

"Non ti preoccupare," Angelo shuts his door and walks to your side of the car, squatting down to your eye level. He smiles reassuringly, taking your worried hand from your skirt and giving it a soft squeeze. "You'll be fine. Trust me, just walk in and someone will help you. If not, just ask around. "

A wave of embarrassment washes over you, the temperature in your cheeks began to rise. You look down shamelessly and sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'll be fine. Thank you, Angelo."

He smiles once again before tapping your hand gently. "Of course, signorina."

---

Inside the house was just as intimidating as you thought it would be.

You stepped inside carefully, opening the large oak doors to reveal a grand foyer with a long red rug outstretched in front of you, intricate gold details and flowers laced within the rug. A wooden circular table stood on the rug, adorned with a rather fancy candelabra and various other things that decorated the table.

Each wall was oak or a mix of oak and cherry wood, dark earthy tones were quite apparent in each decoration and engraving in the house. Walls lined with golden framed paintings and the ceiling lined with intricate wooden crown molding. A wooden staircase with burly railings lined the wall to the left, and as you suspected, looked like it went up three stories, and a deep red rug that seemed to match the one on the floor went up the staircase, followed by two children--who apparently had rushed out of what looked like the living room from the right of the foyer--running up the stairs giggling at one another as if they hadn't had a care in the world.

"Children! Children!"

You turn your head to the female voice who was also rushing out of the living room, probably trying to stop them.

"Jesus, I'm getting too old for these kinds of things," she chuckles, taking one step onto the staircase before turning her head to look at you.

Ironically, she didn't look old at all. She looked to be about in her mid to late twenties, her figure was slim and lean. Long, brown, curly locks of hair fell down the sides of her face and deep brown eyes paired with those of her hair. Her face also slim, her bright smile on her complexion gave her the appearance of a rather warm and welcoming person.

"Oh hello!" And her voice also seemed to fit her persona.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't see you come in! You must be his new secretary!" She smiles, making her way off of the stairs before coming over to you.

A warm fit of butterflies flutter in your heart, a helpless smile formed upon your face as the kind woman greeted you.

"Yes, that's me," you chuckle, and she immediately loops her arm in with yours.

"Well, it's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard good things about you coming from everyone else around here," she smiles, patting your hand that was looped with hers.

"Oh, yeah, it's nice to meet you too," You chuckle, though you really had no idea who this woman was.

The woman must've seen the confusion on your face as she gasped, facepalming herself. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Padmé Amidala, the wife of this household."

You raise your eyebrows, shocked that someone so young could be married to a guy who was probably in his sixties. That was, unless, he wasn't in his sixties.

"You're... Married to Cielo?" You ask, a bit confused.

She nods, giving you a soft smile. "Yes! Sorry, the last names must be confusing. I kept my name so that way I wouldn't get questioned about who I was married to while running for my political office," she chuckles nervously, her face falling down to the floor briefly, clearly not exactly proud of the type of crime she married into.

"Oh," was all you could say, not exactly sure how to continue the conversation.

"But that's alright! I love him, so that's all that matters." She smiles at you which brought another smile to your face, but her smile quickly falters.

"Kids!" Her eyes dart to the railing above you who seemed to be dangling some kind of toy from the railings. "Stop that! Go play in your room!"

"But--"

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Now! We have a new guest to our household, we don't need any broken bones while we welcome her here. "

You hear the kids sigh. "Yes ma'am."

You chuckle. "Are they yours?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "No, they're not mine, they're my sister's. She and her family live here with us, with just about every other person from this family."

You laugh, "That explains the big house."

"Yes, that and among other reasons. Now, if you come with me I'll show you the Don's study. I'm sure he's waiting."

You nod and walk side by side next to Padmé, going up the large staircase, talking small talk, and asking about your name and where you're from and all of the things above. Her bright and flowery personality seemed to calm your nerves that were itching in your skin. Anxiety was crawling through your stomach to meet this Don. You didn't want to be here, and in fact, did not want to mess up the first impression with your new boss, let alone a boss who works in owning people favors.

You arrived in the hall before the study, and as suspected there was a guard at the door, --even though the door was open--waiting for your arrival.

You look inside the room and see (what you assumed to be anyway) Cielo standing in front of his desk talking to a few men dressed in fancy silk suits, one of the men leaned down to press a familial kiss to his knuckles followed by a pat on his shoulder from the Don.

"Well," Padmé sighed, patting your hand before breaking the loop. "This is where I leave you. Make sure to let me know how it goes once it's over with, okay? I'll most likely be either in the living room downstairs or in my own study, which is in this same hall not too far from here, alright?"

You nod, feeling so grateful that she practically talked the nerves out of you. "Of course, yeah. Thank you, by the way."

"Oh, no problem! Let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

You nod and thank her once again and she gives you a reassuring smile before leaving.

Then, just as she left, you immediately felt that sinking feeling return to your stomach, as if there were a boulder laying there, taking up its entire presence of your nervous system.

Nevertheless, you pursue and make your way towards the door. You introduce yourself to the sturdy guard, and he in turn makes the announcement to the rest of the room that you arrived.

Great. A big announcement. Because that's definitely going to calm my nerves.

"Don! Your secretary's here!"

The apparent Don looked up from both of the guys he was talking to and gestured them away, ordering them to leave the room.

They did as instructed, now finally giving you a full view of this mysterious Cielo Don.

The Don was young, for sure, possibly around Padmé's age. He had a wide sturdy frame, muscled arms fit nicely in his white collared shirt that was open and unbuttoned almost halfway down. Black slacks fit him perfectly, tall lean legs sat on his desk followed by shiny black dress shoes.

His wear was casual, unlike the other Dons you had seen who were usually in tightly fitted silk suits, which was something you found unusual about him. To continue his unorthodox attire, he had a leather glove on his right hand, unlike his left which was left completely bare except for a few gold rings. His hair also seemed to fit the casual bill;  long, sandy, loose curls draped his strong jawline, perfectly plump lips curled into a smile when one of his men had said something.

Along his sharp brows was a scar that was painted perfectly over his brow and to his cheek, bright blue eyes darted from you and to someone who was speaking in the room.

You swallowed thickly, intimidated by his tall and lean build, and also slightly by how surprisingly attractive he was.

Yes, he was attractive, you weren't going to deny that even though he was married.

"Benvenuta, cara, " he welcomes in a soothing voice, an ever-so-charming smirk appeared on his face while he extended his gloved hand to you, to which you placed your hand into, and he sweetly brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon them.

Immediately, you felt like melting at his charms but you stood your ground.

Curiously, you raise an eyebrow and nod. "Grazie, Don."

He lets go of your hand before gesturing to one of the cherry-red leathered armchairs.

You sit down and he leans off of his desk and makes his way to sit down behind his.

"Let's get to business then, shall we?" He gives you yet another charming smile before opening up a manilla folder full of files.

You nod at him and he returns his attention to the paperwork in front of him, his bare hand fiddled with a dull cigarette.

While he did so, you began to scan the room, eyeing just about every object and every man who stood in their respective seats or along the walls.

One man though caught your eye in particular.

He seemed to be hiding his face away from you. His big burly arms crossed over one another, his face faced down towards the wooden flooring, his eyes darting from you and the floor--clearly up to something, or hiding something.

You felt a pounding in your head. Something wasn't right about him. He looked familiar, all too familiar. What was it about him?

Then, it dawned on you.

A quick flashback of your brother, in pain, wallowing on the floor while you sat and watched from a distance, screaming to help him, screaming to do something, but you were being held back by your father and one of his men.

He lied there, bullet after bullet after bullet was being pounded into his head, his torso being pumped with nothing but lead, blood was saturated in his clothes, his body jumping after every piece of metal that scraped through his body.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair why they held you back, why they had killed him and not you. Why hadn't they gone after you either? Or your father for that matter?

You remember breaking down into tears and scrambling over to his body after the perpetrators had fled the scene. You remember trembling hands, lifting to his head, praying that by God's will that he was still alive, and that he had made it.

But of course, you knew that wasn't possible.

You remember being joined by your mother and other siblings, wallowing in pain over your brother.

You couldn't remember much after that, the pain was too much.

Though, you did remember looking up to see one of his killer's face.

That face you could never forget. It was burned into your memory; a branding. It was him.

"You," you seethed, hissing under your breath, nails dug into the leather upholstery of the chair.

He looked up from his position, eyes widened immediately.

"You killed my brother, you fucking killed my brother!"

You lurched out of the chair, your feet immediately took you forward, your mind on nothing except wringing that man's throat in your hands, to get revenge for your brother's unjustified death.

Without thinking, you yelled and lurched out with your hands, anger boiling inside you, a raging storm hurled through your body giving you a new sense of passion in what you hadn't felt in years since he died--your hands moving to grab at the man but felt two pairs of hands grab at your arms, moving you back to your seat while you continued lashing out, pained sobs emitted from your mouth as you were taken back to sit down.

"You murdered him!" Now your anger was pointed towards the Don who stared at you with narrowed eyes, jaw clenched.

"I won't fucking work for you!" You struggled, jolting your hands out of their powerful grips, quickly making your way towards the door and out of it.

You knew this was too good to be true, all of it. This fucking family, this house, this property. This job. All of it. Of course, they were the ones that had to have killed your brother, of-fucking-course.

You stormed your way out of the room, walking quickly with hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

Quickly, you heard shoes beating along the floor, running to catch up to you but you didn't care. You kept on walking, not giving two shits about this family.

As you were about to turn down the stairs, you felt a strong leather grip catch your wrist, pulling you away from the stairs and twisting you around to face the Don himself.

"Listen to me," he growled, blue piercing eyes darting into yours. "You're part of an agreement, you can't leave this place even if you wanted to. "

You swallowed thickly, anger rose in your chest, your mind still clouded with fury. "No I fucking won't. You and your shitty ass family, killing my brother like that--"

"Are you hearing me?! You can't leave! You're signed on to this contract so another war won't break out!" His voice is bellowing, surely drawing attention to your situation.

And sure enough, it did. You see faces around the house peeking out from doorways and some of his henchmen stop in their tracks just to tune into the conversation.

He sighs. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, cara--"

"Don't call me that," you sneer, unafraid of the Don who stood in front of you.

"Fine, but just know, that you fucking are working for me. Whether you like it or not, your brother is dead, and you can't do anything about it. It was the middle of a war, I'm sorry to tell you this but it was business," his jaw clenches, his tongue swirls around in his mouth pensively.

"Business?! You call my brother's death business?!" You try and pull your hand away from his grip but he keeps it right.

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. "I do, I fucking do. If you remember, you were born into one of these families. You don't survive by playing nice."

You still your arm and huff, still angered at the Don who stood in front of you. You decide to keep quiet, not bothering to anger him any further. You knew your argument wouldn't get through his thick skull anyway.

"Thank you."

He stands up and turns around, dragging you back to his study where he throws you down back into your seat and he sits back down in his.

"Now, business."

You cross your arms, pursing your lips.

"As my secretary, I expect you to do everything I tell you to, and immediately. No hesitation, and no asking questions. Got it?" He tells you before taking a swig of what looked like brandy in a crystal glass.

You nod reluctantly.

"No, I wanna hear those words coming out of your mouth, loud and clear. Got it?"

You sigh. "Got it."

"Good. " He sets his drink back down. "I want you to make all of my calls for me, jot down times, dates, what my client may need and give me the list. I'll decide whether they're worth meeting or not and you'll call them back and tell them my decision. If they got a problem just tell them to call me directly. "

One of his men grabs a pen and a yellow notepad and hands it to you.

You take the items and begin jotting down these notes.

"I expect you up and early every morning unless I say otherwise. I expect a cup of coffee in my study every morning before I get in here, and I want nothing more, nothing less. You get up when I get up, you retire when I retire. Alright?"

You nod. "Alright."

"Good. Now I also want you to deliver things for me. I'll usually send one of my men to do so, " he gestures around the room to them. "But just in case I want you on the side. It won't be anything dangerous. I'll probably just ask you to deliver mail or something. "

You nod.

"And I also want you to take care of my bills for me. My wife or my consigliere usually takes care of them, but it seems like we've all gotten too busy to do so lately, so we're giving the job to you," he breathes, taking a drag of his cigarette. "And if we need to, and can't hire a nanny in time, you're to take care of my sister-in-law's kids. Is everything understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. If there's anything else, I'll let you know. You're dismissed."