A/N: Um, wrote this chapter in a couple of sittings, so i hope it flows well. Give me your criticisms! I'm really happy to know that people are actually reading this, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 4

She was too afraid.

She didn't let go of his hand, she couldn't fall asleep. If she did either, he would leave, she was sure of it. He would have walked out and never come back.

She never had this fear before, this disease that had manifested its way deep into her head. She preferred not to get attached to those she knew wouldn't be around for long. It was just that she wasn't expecting her father or powerful to be so easily eliminated. So even though Hibari had been rumored to be the strongest of the mafia guardians, he could just as easily disappear from her life. She refused to risk any of it.

He knew her too well, he could tell she wasn't really sleeping, pretend as she might. He switched back and forth from staring at her face, to her hand. She was delicate, like a doll. Her stubborn hand never released his, he had set it on her chest in hopes of making her more comfortable.

He looked at their hands again, the ring on her finger. It wasn't originally his idea, but it was a necessary measure to ensure that she wouldn't be able to run away. Most women connected to the Vongola possessed these rings, and were essentially something dog-tags on a pet. Just like when an animal escapes, someone reads the name and address on its collar, and returns it back to its owner, when a woman leaves without permission, someone will see the ring, and return her back to the Vongola. Locals feared the mafia, and if they were smart, wouldn't aid someone in deserting.

He could only hope that it would never come to someone needing to return her to him. He knew it was probably inevitable, that she would try to leave, to escape. He was Lucifer and she was an innocent woman, she didn't love him, not the way she had before. She was scared of him, he knew by the way she looked at him. She always put on a front, but it was useless in front of him.

He wasn't keeping track of how much time had passed, but eventually he was becoming bored with the situation. They both were aware of how awake she was, and he found it a waste of time for them to stay like this. Part of him wanted to rip his hand away, and force her to get up, while another just wanted to sit there and treasure the moment.

He moved his free hand to skim the outline of her jaw, but slowly retracted. Guilt was penetrating the deepest wells of his being. This was who he was, a killer, a murderer, the devil. He had no regard for life, it was something he could take away without so much as lifting a finger. Would touching her harm her? Would she die? She had been through so much already, he knew she was on the brink of her limit.

While he was still battling the thoughts in his head, he realized that she was moving, her eyes had finally opened.

She instinctively smiled as his face appeared in front of her. Whenever she found her next to him she could be happy. But the tables turned, as she realized that was no longer the case. The gleam of happiness swiftly turned to fear. Her hand pulled away from his, she moved to sit up.

A flash of frustration crossed his face. He was angry. Though only for a second, she had looked at him like she had done before when they were together. He wanted her to see him like that again.

In response to her movements, he simply pulled back, and placed both hands in his lap, his elbows resting on his knees. His head was tilted down, but it didn't hide the mischievously seductive grin that graced his features. He had taken off his jacket, now clad in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, his black tie hanging from his neck.

She couldn't look at him, not directly. She didn't know whether she wanted his arms wrapped around her or if she wanted to slap him across the face.

He was every bit as torn as she was. He scanned her now awakened face, puckered red lips, lazy lidded eyes, big dewy brown eyes, and disheveled locks falling on her shoulders. When she got up, the comforters slid down her torso. He pressed his own lips together as his line of vision trailed down her neck to her collarbone, to her bosom.

He never had the opportunity to touch her, she was more a virgin than Mary herself. She was raised like a nun, surrounded by female caretakers, forbidden from the presence of any man besides her father. He was the sole male that had even graced her being. It was a shame too, Haru was a beautiful woman.

The possibilities running through his mind spiked thrill in him. How nice her hair would feel through his fingers, how smooth her skin paled skin would react to his touch, how kissable her lips would be. Prior to their first encounter, he had been with countless women. He took pride in his status as a womanizer, the girls went crazy for him. He longed for her to do the same. The ridiculous cover he needed to uphold no longer applied, and he was free to do whatever he pleased.

His demeanor frightened her. It was too new, too foreign from what she was used to. His gaze made her uncomfortable. His eyes were piercing, sharp, like a hawk's. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him lick him lips before pushing his lips together again.

She was inexperienced, but that didn't mean she was oblivious to the mannerisms of men. She had overheard her maids gossiping, telling each other repulsive bedroom stories. She knew all about the traditional roles and actions between men and women, the desires that they had, and how they would fill them. Up until now she never felt that it even slightly concerned her.

But in that moment, as his eyes tore her piece by piece, she became painfully aware of how much it applied to her. She had realized just as he did, that he could do what he pleased with her, and with no repercussions. She was no longer protected under the umbrella of her status.

"Feeling better?" his voice was sly, dripping with sarcasm, it was lower than she remembered. She still didn't look at him, her head softly turned in the opposite direction. "I believe I told you to behave, didn't I?" it was more authoritative now.

She moved to face him, only to find him mere inches away from her. She swallowed hard when the back of her head touched the headboard behind it. He was effortlessly leaning in, enjoying the view, watching her squirm.

She watched his smile grow, showing off his sharp white fangs. She couldn't find the courage to respond.

"And yet I come back, and I find you wasted out of your right mind," her eyes rolled over to the scattered glasses and bottles of alcohol sitting at the mini bar, "The furniture rummaged through," the drawers had been hanging open, just as she left them, "and my property stolen,"

The last part made her think a little. His property? She sobered up enough to remember the picture frame. He neck snapped in different directions, the photo, she had been holding it, but it was no longer in her arms. She was able to relax when she found it standing on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Now you're a lady of manners, we both know you understand how impolite it is to take someone else's things," he was making fun of her. He was implying that the photo was his, when he knew very well that it was something she would never give up.

He lost the inner battle of self restraint as he took some of her brunette hair into his hand, stroking it from the top of her scalp, sliding it down to the ends by her waist. She couldn't breathe, she held in the air as he made contact.

"I remember you liking it when the help would brush your hair before you went to sleep." His head was now placed so that his lips were next to her ear. "Do you like it when I brush it for you?"

She wanted to brush him off, but no matter how much she hated to admit it, she did like it. He had always been cautious never to touch her in a way that would alarm her, and the feeling she got when he played with her hair. The sensation was so unusual that it made her shiver with excitement.

Before she let the feeling get the better of her, she pushed her hair behind her ear, removing it from his grasp. Though her own body was reluctant, she shoved him away with as much strength as she could muster. She was undecided about how she felt about him as a person, but she was sure she didn't want to commit in such intimate interaction with a man.

He laughed at her reaction, she was such an open book. "You do," he leaned back in, her hands on his chest that had pushed him away were now idly resting in place, "I know you do,"

Haru was freezing before, but she swore she was burning up a fever right about now.

"Get away from me," she spat with all of the meanness that she could utter. She was more successful in escaping his hold this time, ducking under the arms that had trapped her in, and rolling off of the bed. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her as she took a sharp intake of air, she had forgotten about her wound. It wasn't the wisest move to make, but at the very least, she was away from his clutches.

From the ground, she could see his feet under the bed, making his way around its perimeter. She pushed off of her elbow to get up, hopefully fast enough before he would get to her.

She had to remind herself of who this man was. She had allowed herself to think of him as the person she had fallen in love with, when in truth it was a sadistic murderer. She wouldn't make another mistake like that again. She was in a time of crisis, and clung to him for comfort. She wouldn't let him manipulate her in the way that he had done before, she was smarter than that.

By the time he had approached her, she had already scrambled to her feet, she stood up, with her chin held high. Her arm was grabbing her side as she rose, her physical pain had been numbed by the alcohol and cold air, but it was a wound stubborn enough to make her aware of it with every move she made.

"Why did you bring me here?" her voice was dry, it hurt to speak.

He was bewildered for a second, not knowing how to respond. He wasn't sure that he knew the answer himself. One moment he had been standing over her body, gun in hand, ready to shoot. But the next, carrying her in his arms into a plane back to his homeland. If the answer didn't make sense to him, it would be just as inscrutable to her.

It angered him that he didn't know, and it enraged him that she wanted to know. In an instant, his temper took over, and he pinned her to the bed by the shoulders. Both of their legs still planted on the floor, her backside pressed to the edge of the mattress, him glowering over her.

She didn't give the satisfaction of cowering; she locked her eyes with his, refusing to let go.

He looked like he was going to open his mouth, but both of their thoughts were interrupted.

A loud, hollow knock made contact with the door furthest away from them. Clearly annoyed with the recent disturbance, Hibari growled and ordered for the poor soul behind the door to leave immediately.

The person's voice was muffled, unclear, "Sir, preparation for dinner has ended, and mandatory attendance is requested," a pause as they cleared their throat, "The first course will be served in twenty minutes,"

Hibari got up, letting his captive free. He pulled at his collar as he glared daggers at the direction the voice was coming from. Whoever it was, they were lucky they couldn't see, for they would have come to serious injury if they could. "Understood, now leave." He obviously didn't like company.

The nerve, the gall that his boss possessed astounded him to no end. The formal setting for a meal meant pointless gathering, socializing, and chattering. Normally, no one would dare approach, nevermind invite him to come to dinner. It was a mutual understand with all the Vongola that the man didn't appreciate a crowded room with no purpose. The only person that could even make Hibari consider the proposition was no other than the Decimo himself, and even he always had a reason to ask of such a favor.

The particular reasons why tonight, his attendance had been requested, were his recent deeds in the Asian Continent. Rumors had spread like wildfire the second that he stepped foot in Sicily that he hadn't returned alone. Bringing back the spawn of their enemy wasn't a generic act that many people survived. Most would have their heads served on platters for taboo like that, but Hibari's friendship with the Decimo had exempted him from such treatment.

His boss wanted to see her for himself, the woman that had made his companion act so out of character. It left people in shock when they found out that he had brought home a woman, and an attractive one at that. Theories of their relationship sprang up, but none had been confirmed.

It wasn't like Hibari even had the choice of refusing his invitation, it would have been considered some light form of insubordination. And even though the cloud guardian could take the heat, he knew better. His actions had been tolerated, and he shouldn't push his luck.

Frustrated beyond comprehension, he started pulling on his tie. "Get up, you need to get ready," he instructed. He didn't look at her as he walked across the room, picking a package up off the ground. He came back to Haru, still flustered and recovering from his previously aggressive actions. He handed her the box, not deep in depth, but large in surface area. "Clean yourself up, you'll want to make a good impression,"

He made his way back towards the exit, half turning as he opened the door, "I'll be back in twenty minutes," and before it clicked shut, "And I'm serious this time, behave," his commands made a chill run down her spine. It was a warning, definitely not an empty threat.

After he left, she threw the box onto the bed, letting it land with a soft thud. She was unsure of what he meant. She needed to get ready, to prepare. She didn't want to cross him, for fear of repeating what almost went down before. She didn't know how far he would go to torment her, and she didn't want to risk it.

Carefully, she sat herself on the side of the bed, opening the box with upmost precaution. She didn't know what she was expecting to be inside, but its contents wasn't something she had even thought of.

It was a dress. With nimble fingers, she lifted the cloth out of its folding, admiring it closely. It was made of thin, dark navy, matte material. She held the dress up in the air to look at the silhouette, only to discover it had little structure; it was meant to cling to her body.

The thought of clothing tightly hugging her form embarrassed her. She was never permitted to wear anything that a nun wouldn't wear. She always dressed in modest clothing, nothing that showed too much skin or made her curves stand out.

She then did a take of her appearance now. No matter how snug the new dress fit, it would be better than the skimpy excuse of clothing that she was wearing. She was sure that if she didn't comply with his orders that he would send her out they way she looked. She shyly started to undress, wary of the door, making sure that no one would walk in on her. The wound made it difficult , but eventually the fabric landed in the right place.

She made her way to the full length vanity near another corner of the room. It was a long, oval shape mirror that let her see her full body. She had never really taken a chance to get a good look at herself since the incident, but it was safe to say that she wasn't too happy about what she saw. Her hair, which was usually kept tied in a neat ponytail fell in non-uniform waves cascading down to her lower waist. Her eyes were slightly swollen, it was probably worse before. She was sickly pale, ghost like, unhealthy clashed with her already red lips and dark brown hair. The dress wasn't as tight as she had initially anticipated, it had a modest neckline, but plunged into a 'V' near her back, revealing her bare back. It clung to her bust, but flowed down to her knees.

She guessed that some of her time had yet been used, and she moved to the mini bar again. This time it wasn't to grab a drink, she had enough, but to get the towel that hung on the side of the table. The ice in the bucket had melted. She dipped the hand towel down into the water, bringing it back up to her face. It coldness gave her eyes the much needed relief from strain. She held it in place, savoring the feeling it gave her.

She repeated it again, then moving down to the rest of her face, and then her neck. It felt amazing to wash some of the dirtiness away, to get a little bit away from the horror story she was in.

Wary of the reappearing pain in her side, she slowly walked to the mirror again. She couldn't recognize her reflection, it looked like an entirely new person. New clothes, the hair, the ring on her finger, meek demeanor, swollen eyes, none of it even held semblance to person she remembered herself to be.

Maybe it had been born that way, or maybe it had been hidden from her when she was younger, but the woman that stared back at her was undeniably stunning. Her father had told her that her looks were a curse, something that was asking for trouble. He made her hide the features that he had fallen in love with her mother away. For the first time in her life, she realized that she was a pretty girl.

She stared, somewhat confused by what she saw.

"You look nice," it was a compliment, but it sounded like a sneer to her ears.

She didn't have to turn around, she could see his image through the mirror. He was leaning on the backboard of the bed, arms cross, smug expression slapped onto his face.

She had newly considered herself to be an attractive young woman, but she was amazed by his appearance. He was beautifully handsome. He had changed his clothing since she last saw him. He looked, for the most part, the same, dressed in the same style. But the clothes were new, still black, still formal. She watched as he lifted the hem of his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch.

He kicked another box towards her. She turned around, bent over, and opened it. They were shoes, flats, with a nonexistent heel. She could only assume that he had given her ones without height so that she wouldn't further injure herself. It was difficult enough walking with a gunshot wound, it would be even harder if she was walking in stilettos.

He wordlessly waited for her to place the shoes over her dainty, bare feet. Without consulting her, he made his way to the door. He opened it and walked out; she followed.

She focused on his broad shoulders as they continued their way down the long hallway. It was eerie, scary, she didn't know what to do.

It did her little comfort when she realized what he had said earlier was right. He was her only life line, she knew no one else. She wanted to hit, scream, throw a fit, because as much as she feared him, she was more afraid of the others she was going to encounter.

End Chapter 4

A/N: Hmm so a little bit of sexual tension going on with the whole hair touching...lol ok not really, but it was a bit uncomfortable for me to write. I hope that you guys like it! I'll try to update soon :)