AN: This one's shorter, but you do get some more Troyella time. I promise all your questions will be answered…eventually. In the mean time read and review :)

Disclaimer: Not Mine

Wherever You Are: Chapter 4

Downstairs, Troy found Tony, Benito and Michael eating breakfast. Tony threw him a curt glance, but the boys looked up from their cereal with interest in their matching brown eyes. They were almost exact copies of their father except for their eyes, which were soft, expressive and looked like liquid darkness.

"I'm Tomas," he told them with a smile, putting bread into the toaster and hunting around in the pantry for the peanut butter.

"It's on the third shelf," Benito said with a knowing air of a four-year-old.

"Thank you," Troy said gravely and sat down opposite the boys. "What are you doing today?"

Michael shrugged. "Nothing. Gabriella might take us to a movie, but she has work to do first. She always has work to do." He stopped and thought for a minute. "Everybody always has work to do around here."

Benito agreed, as Troy spread his toast. "Do you have to work?" the younger boy asked.

"I don't know," Troy answered honestly. "I have to talk to Petro, and Al. And maybe Roberto."

Benito turned up his nose. "Berto is funny…but he always drinks the last of the milk. Straight from the carton. Gabriella gets mad when he does that." Troy smiled. "Al looks mean, but he's real nice."

"Really nice," Michael corrected with the condescending air of an older brother. "But Uncle Petro has been really strange since Aunty Laura went away. You know, she didn't go on a holiday, she…"

"Michael," Tony interjected softly. "Put your dish in the dishwasher if you've finished. You too, Benito."

The boys sighed, and did as they were told. They thumped up the stairs and left the airy room in relative peace. Troy, figuring Tony would give him some more of the silent treatment, looked around for a newspaper, but Tony surprised him and sat down next to him.

"Christof has the paper," Tony said, knowing what Troy was looking for. "We get it after him. Be warned: Petro always takes the Sports section, Roberto always takes the comics and Al gets the crosswords."

"So domestic," Troy said with a wry grin.

"What were you expecting?"

Troy frowned and went to put some more bread in the toaster. "This place seems filled with secrets. I guess it's hard to slot into working for another family when I'm not really part of it."

"Would you like some coffee?" Tony asked. Troy nodded and Tony poured a cup. "Every family has secrets," Tony continued. "Some are juicier then others. Some are more devastating then others. Most are very painful and more importantly all are better left alone."

Nodding, Troy looked outside to see Al sitting in his customary spot near the roses, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world and hadn't beat somebody up last night.

"Can I ask you something?" Troy began. Tony nodded. "What is that you do exactly?"

Tony obviously considered his options, before giving him an honest answer. "I take care of security and intelligence. I set up meetings, I organize the bribes, I balance the books and I make sure everything's legit."

Troy frowned in concentration. "I thought that was Petro's job."

"No. Petro does the specialty jobs for the boss. Very delicate jobs. He keeps an eye on the businesses. I organize the bribes and the like, but Petro makes sure the money is coming through the right channels and nothing starts smelling fishy. We're talking the brothels and our main front."

"Drugs?"

Tony shook his head. "People think that's it, but most of our money runs through the real estate business. It's a scam system…it would take a little while to explain. The drugs are pretty new."

Troy sensed a sour note in the last statement and preyed upon it. "You don't like dealing with drugs?"

Tony shrugged. "It's not for me to like or dislike, but it's caused some problems, yes." Troy let the silence fall, knowing when to stop leading. "Al didn't like it; he was furiously opposed to it, but Petro thought it was a good idea. They had a huge fight, and things are still tense between them."

"I see," Troy said, collecting his toast and sipping some of the bitter coffee. "Good coffee," he told Tony.

"Thanks." The man stood. "Tomas…be careful which secrets you press and which you leave alone. There's no room for a wrong move in this house."

Shortly after he finished breakfast, Troy decided that he should go and visit Daniella. With a turbulent stomach, Troy walked up to the second floor and turned left into the matriarch's wing. The door at the far end of the hall was obviously Daniella's and he knocked.

"Come in," called Daniella in a regal voice. He entered. "Is that you Tomas?" She had her back to the door and was making her bed.

"Yes," he said. "Can I help you?"

"I'm fine." And she finished and straightened up as she spoke, turning to face him with a wide smile. "Come out to my balcony."

He followed dutifully behind her as they exited the French doors onto her balcony that overlooked the garden. An empty tray was on the table – it was obviously her breakfast. Looking around, Troy realized what a lovely spot this was. There were flowers in pots-some blooming in bright vivid colors, others just shrubs and bushes. Ivy crept around the stone railing and the towering oak in the front yard spread its branches out to create some shade.

"Do you like it?" she asked with pride, sweeping her arms out and gesturing for him to sit down. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "I just had breakfast with Tony and his boys."

Daniella nodded and sat herself. Troy realized at that moment exactly how beautiful she was. Daniella Mazio was striking in a way that few women were. From her magnificent black hair without a thread of gray to the juxtaposing ivory skin, she oozed refinement and grace, with a hint of the exotic. Dramatic black eyebrows shaped like wings complimented the unusually colored violet eyes, which were the most noticeable feature of her face. Her jaw was defined and strong, as was the rest of her bone structure. Her mouth was subtle yet luscious, hinting at all sorts of things. Delicate hands, a remarkable figure, impeccable taste in clothing and a hint of sardonic yet potentially dangerous sexuality only added to her features.

Daniella watched him watching her after a few minutes she pronounced in a knowing voice, "You're thinking about how beautiful I am."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"One grows used to being watched, admired, coveted and appreciated. After a while it becomes boring. But every now and then I come across a man who likes what he sees but doesn't want to use it to his advantage." She paused in thought.

Then she continued. "You are one such man. You like what you see, but unlike my husband, you don't want to own it. You don't need to claim it, or make it a possession. You don't need to own a woman, because you know that most women are going to follow you willingly."

Troy tried to shrug off her eloquent assessment. "I don't know about that. But your husband can't have wanted your beauty for beauty's sake could he?"

The sigh of resignation was a tired and old one. "When we first met, and indeed for the first years of our marriage, he adored me. He really did," she added a little defensively after seeing Troy's look of disbelief. "We were very happy, and I thought it was going to last.

"But after Carlo was born, Christof had everything he needed from me, and that was that. I've been kept on because we're both good Catholics and we can't divorce, but Christof hasn't wanted me for years." Something in her voice told Troy that there was part of her that still loved her husband very much.

"I'm sorry," he said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"Don't be." Daniella sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. "So what do you think of Tony?"

Troy thought carefully before answering, wondering at the question. "He's a genuine man. He's very good with his children, though I think he doesn't quite know how to handle Allegra. She probably reminds him of his loss."

Daniella nodded. "He was devoted to Marissa. It was nice to have them in the house; theirs was a marriage based on love, not on alliance or orchestration."

Troy feigned his surprise. "But Petro and Laura were here."

The older woman just looked at him blandly. "You aren't a stupid man, Tomas. You know as well as I do that Petro isn't missing his wife."

"Wherever she went?" he led on.

Daniella grinned. "Oh no, you won't get it out of me that easily. You don't get to know all the family secrets on the second day. I've already told you about Christo and I. Tell me, how do you find Gabriella?"

The turn around in conversation stopped him short for a minute, but he recovered. "I haven't spent much time with her. She seems nice enough, though I'm a little confused about her position in the house."

Daniella was obviously about to reveal everything, when the object of the conversation walked through the French doors. Gabriella, cradling Allegra, with Sophie and the boys trailing behind, walked out onto the balcony.

"I didn't realize you had company," Gabriella said coolly, not really apologetic at all. "I can leave…"

"That's alright," Troy said, standing. "I'll leave you two alone."

"Tommy," Sophie said, resorting to tugging on his pants again. "We're going to see a movie. Do you want to come?"

Troy began to shake his head but Gabriella spoke up. "Why don't you? I could always use some help with the kids."

"I probably have some work to do," Troy said, trying to think of excuses. He didn't think he'd survive an entire day with just Gabriella and some innocent children. He'd probably go out of his mind with memory and would then go out of his mind with thoughts of the future.

"I checked with Christof," Gabriella replied with a winning smile. "He said that you don't have anything to do today. It is Sunday after all, and we have to go to High Mass tonight."

In the corner, Daniella was watching with some interest. Troy realized right then and there, that of all the people in the house to be wary of – the odd Tony, the intense Al, the violent Roberto and the powerful Petro, and obviously Christof – Daniella was the one who he should be the most worried about. She watched. It was all she did – she watched, and saw, and stored up information for later use. The wry smile plastered across her face intimated the fact that she was obviously taking in something…no doubt she'd seen the tension lying between he and Gabriella.

Troy took a deep breath. "I guess I'll go," he said, forcing his voice to sound bright, "What are we going to see?" As he spoke, he lifted Sophie up, resting her on a hip.

Benito answered. "We're going to the old movie theater, to see The Wizard of Oz. Do you want to come, Nonna?" He appealed to his grandmother but she shook her head, her hair rippling across her shoulders.

"No, my little Nito, I have to stay here and look after Allegra." Daniella's Italian accent was more pronounced than her husband's, and the baby's name sounded beautiful when she said it.

"Stupid sister," Benito whined.

"Don't say that," Gabriella chided. "You're older then her, and one day it will be your responsibility to look after her."

"I don't care," the boy said sullenly. "Get rid of her and let's go and see the movie."

"We're off to see the wizard," Troy sang, taking Benito's hand and walking back through the bedroom, out into the hall. "The wonderful wizard of Oz."

Gabriella continued softly behind them. "We hear he is a whiz of a whiz, if ever a whiz there was. If ever, and ever a whiz there was, the wizard of Oz is one because…"

"Because, because, because, because, because…because of the wonderful things he does. We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz," they all finished together as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Gabriella smiled at Troy. "Let's go."

When they got out of the movie, the children were hungry enough to eat each other, so they went across the road to McDonald's. And then, before Troy knew what was happening, the children had raced off to the playground, leaving him and Gabriella alone. Fractious silence followed.

Troy tried to start a conversation. "I remember you used to be so frightened of the Wicked Witch that you'd climb under the covers and burrow up between Chad and I whenever we watched the movie."

"And you and Chad insisted on watching it. Still…" she smiled herself, "Chad was pretty scared of the flying monkeys."

Troy remembered well. "We went to the zoo on that field trip, and he wouldn't go near the monkeys…he freaked out and ran away and the teacher spent the rest of the day trying to find him."

Gabriella laughed and Troy realized how much he'd missed that sound. "It's good to hear you laugh," he told her.

She shrugged, and tucked her brown hair behind her ear. "Look, about this morning…I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied easily, taking in her uncomfortable expression. "I shouldn't have pushed the issue."

"You have to understand that I can't be seen…I'm not allowed to have contact with other…after Laura…" she looked away. "I can't tell you why, but nobody must know that we know each other."

Troy could have agreed more, but didn't let Gabriella see that. "Is it to do with Elvis?" he asked.

She nodded miserably. "Please…just trust me. It's safer this way. I promise."

He watched her; the fear floating through her eyes, her hands clutched together on the table, appealing to him to let the past lie and not to single her out within the household.

"I trust you," he told her, not letting her break their gaze. "But we meant something to each other, and I haven't forgotten that."

"Neither have I," she whispered. "I didn't…I've never forgotten, even though I was angry with you…for, well, it seemed like forever."

"You knew," he pointed out. "We both did. One night, that was all we had. We were going away in the morning."

"But you left," Gabriella said, in a voice that was more tired then angry. "You didn't say goodbye. I could handle the idea that it was one night, but you didn't say goodbye…"

He swallowed with difficulty. "I couldn't…" he trailed away. "I didn't want to," he admitted. "To me, it was more then just, or a goodbye, or whatever."

"Was it?"

He nodded. "I couldn't…I didn't trust myself not to tell you that I had feelings, and make things that much worse."

"You didn't want me to leave like that," Gabriella finished for him. "I didn't want to you to leave at all, Troy."

"It wasn't one of the smarter things I ever did."

"Sleeping with me, or leaving like that?" There was a hard edge to her voice. "Step carefully."

"Leaving you like that. What we did…that was never a mistake. It was too, too much, too long to be a mistake."

Gabriella closed her eyes. "I'd wanted it for so long."

"I know."

"You do, don't you? You were the only one who ever knew. How did you end up here Troy? You of all people, you who wanted to get out so badly, who wanted to be a lawyer, and you've ended like this."

"What is this?" he asked.

Before she could answer, Sophie ran up to them. "Benito fell over," she announced breathlessly, with a certain air of melodrama. "He hurt his elbow."

"Is he really hurt?" Gabriella asked in a hurried voice, already rising. But there was a glint in her eyes that told him she remembered as well.

"No," she shook her head. "He's just pretending."

Troy hid his smile, scooped Sophie up, and followed Gabriella to the playground, trying to forget the last time Gabriella had hurt her elbow.