I groaned and rolled on my stomach, I dreamt of something nice, but I don't remember. All I can recall is that it was warm and comfortable, until I woke up. I realized that my alarm didn't ring, so I let myself just lay there and think about everything that happened yesterday. Memory was still fresh, just like the sting on my ass. I closed my eyes, and the silver hair, with deep brown eyes floated in my memory like a feather. Her scent tickled my nostrils and my lips quirked up.

The realization hit me. I jumped up like if I just saw a nightmare, my heart drummed on my chest and I roughly massaged my forehead. What has gotten into me? This was madness.

I had to regain control of my emotions and feelings.

Turning off my upcoming alarm swiftly, I changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was cold outside, but I was trying to slowly strengthen my immune system, and a morning run in the cold was doing a perfect job. 6 am ticked on the silver clock when I went out to run with Morte.

I don't know how long it has been, but my hair was sticking to my sweaty forehead and I could feel the heat radiating from my body. Morte was still energetic as always and I smiled as he jumped on my legs, a clear indication that he was hungry. Only then, I glanced towards my house to see dad standing at the balcony. He motioned me with his hand to come inside.

The warm shower felt nice on my skin, it washed down the tingle of uneasiness that remained after yesterday, now I felt completely fresh like a blank page. When I skipped down the stairs and went to have breakfast, I saw Morte eating his food and My dad, sitting in front of a table. Mmm, 'blinchiki'. My favourite.

"Morning dad, did you wait long?" I greeted and sat down next to him, where my plate was placed. I ignored the slight sting that was caused because of the contact with the wood. Well deserved, indeed.

"It is fine. How are you feeling?" He answered waiting for me to fill my plate. And I did so, placing a few pieces of 'blinchiki' and fried eggs on my plate. God, food is heaven. I almost rolled my eyes at his question, he was treating me as if I was still eight years old. "Dad, I'm not little anymore, I can take a whooping" I chuckled, but I was met with silence, well, not like dad would laugh out loud or anything, but it was too silent. Without looking up from my food I knew he was glaring daggers at me, so I just focused on pouring water in my glass. Finally, I was forced to break the uncomfortable( but also somehow comfortable?) quietness in the room.

"I'm feeling okay," I spoke looking at his green eyes, in which, a while later, a satisfaction and an ounce of relief glistened. And that was the conversation. It was nice, we both enjoyed a peaceful morning, as always.

I soon placed my fork on the plate and stood up, throwing the napkin on top of it. "I'm off to Lectures, I'll be home around 5 or 6?" I know. I know. 'Matthias, you are partially an adult, are you still asking to stay out.' But once again I will remind you, this is about respect and not about permission.

"Alright, I'm having an important meeting this evening, 'Medvedi' wants to tie a bond with us, so have dinner without me, I will get back late."

"'Medvedi'? Mikhailovich wants to shake hands?" I scrunch my eyebrows, clearly sensing that something was off,

"I know, he is planning something and I don't know what, but we will see tonight."

I nodded, not giving him further questions, he knew what he was doing, He knew it all the time, yet, I couldn't help but feel something tug at my heart.

"Be careful," I said quietly, almost hesitantly. His eyes shot up and met mine and I could see them soften. A small smile tugged at his lips and he wiped his mouth with a tissue (elegantly yet manly as always) and stood up. I rubbed my neck in awkwardness, because of my words. I was still worried. It's not like he is immortal.

"Matthias, I am always careful. You needn't worry about it, angel." He kissed my forehead and I smiled, a slight relief from his words washing over my body like a drug.

I left for university, glad that I could still ride my bike, this time, with the helmet on. Learn from the mistakes.

***

*SLAP*

As I walked into the hallway, I heard a slap echo throughout the walls and my eyes instantly landed on a silver haired, much smaller figure compared to the guy who was standing in front of her, which, by the way, had his head tilted slightly to the left. "What the fuck?"

Oh for fucks sake. She just slapped a Crowford bastard. I groaned and walked towards them, my nostrils were suddenly finding the lost and missed scent. Violets.

My eyes snapped darkly at Samuel who was raising his hand, and when his ones met mine, he stilled. Slowly lowering his hand down as he clenched his jaw.

"Did I not tell you to stop this child's play with her?" I warned and ignored Sylvia's flinch, she just seemed to realise that I was standing behind her.

"She fucking slapped me," He spat and moved his venomous eyes back to her. Sylvia raised her head up, and even though I couldn't see her expression, I knew she was smirking. Little fox.

"I slapped you because you threatened to kill me." She spoke and her voice felt so good to hear. Her sweet little voice.

"You have to know your place! You don't slap the ones who your father works for, or do you want him to lose his job along with his life?"

She went still and that's when I interfered again. Samuel was kind of right. Slapping a mafia heir was equal to spitting on their family name, and even though It felt satisfying to see her do that, it was against the rules.

"Samuel, I will deal with her." He glanced at me sharply and I tilted my head upwards slightly, daring him to say something else. He shot her a glare one last time and swooshed past me, his steps showing his level of rage. I sighed and my eyes fell back on the small form in front of me. She was wearing a green skirt with a white t-shirt that twisted around her waist perfectly, defying her pretty little figure.

Her hair was in a lower bun with a green hair pin. She looked perfect, my perfect little doll.

I cleared my throat when she didn't move and she finally hung her head and turned around, Her expression carried..fear and worry. Probably about the previous comment of Samuel. I wouldn't let his father and her near any harm, but she didn;t have to know that. Yet.

I took a hold of her arm and pulled her into the closest empty room. She looked tense. Little doll finally starting to realise that her actions do have consequences? I hid back a smile and instead took a hold of her waist, lifting her to sit on the table. A small gasp left her full lips and It took my whole strength to not replace it with mine. Darn it Sylvia.

"Are you reflecting?" I asked and she rolled her eyes, looking at the bottom corner of the room.

"He deserved it." I suppressed a laugh. She needs to understand that this is a serious situation and my cheerful mood would only make her do worse.

"Listen here, Little Doll. This is not a game, it's disrespectful to slap an heir of the mafia, it is best for you to stay on his good terms." She shot me a glare.

"And by that, I don't mean let him walk over you, no. But your father is a lawyer, I think you know better ways to solve things rather than throwing punches."

She rolled her dark brown eyes once again, and even though it was cute, it was getting on my nerves.

"You better listen to me, Sylvia" I warned, my voice coming firm without any force or realisation. She snapped her head back at my face, tilting her head up to give me the best defiant look from her eyes.

"Or what, Matthias? Or what!"

I smirked darkly, each of my hands coming down to rest next to her thighs, on the table, and I leaned down, my face inches away from hers.

"I will spank you,"



HMMMMMMMMMM.