Stefan DeGramont's POV

"What?" I barked into the line.

It was currently 7:03, and I had approximately 27 minutes to take a shower and get ready for breakfast. I had, unfortunately, woken up three minutes late.

I never woke up late.

I had to blame it on the fact that Elle and I had retired for the night quite late last night. I hadn't meant to hold her up, but I desperately wanted to feel her warmth, and the fresh smell of rose petals, as she leaned into me while I taught her how to play.

I had to admit, she was quite terrible with the piano, but eager to learn regardless. We played for hours. Some minutes were spent talking about our lives, others were spent in comfortable silence as the sound of the music filled the atmosphere.

We retired for the night around 5am. And now I was three minutes late.

"Boss?" Mariano called again, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"What's wrong, Mariano?" I asked, as my body jolted upright. The Malfacini family was not known for phone calls. They just kind of... Showed up. If they needed to talk to you, they found you. I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to arrange a dinner with them tonight. The fact that I was receiving a phone call at this hour by Mariano himself, was more than alarming.

"There was a... Situation last night. One of your family branches were attacked. Ammunition was stolen from the treasury there." Mariano replied.

I could feel my body tense with nothing but pure range.

"Why was I not informed?" I snapped.

"We tried to call you but you didn't pick up."

I must have left my phone in my room while I was playing piano with Elle. "Who does it look like it could be?" I asked.

"Right now, it has the Russian signature written all over it." Mariano replied.

Fuck.

"What's our plan of action, sir?" Mariano asked. He and I knew the rules very well. There was a line that could not be crossed, treaty or no treaty, war was in order.

"Put more guards on the remaining branches and treasuries. You and your family lay low for a while. We don't need to give the Russians any reason to suspect that I'm about to rain a war on their asses. Give me a few days to make the necessary preparations, then we go to war." I explained, already sliding a pair of sweatpants on before exiting my room and heading towards my office.

"What about the banquette that's coming up in a few days? Are you still to attend?" Mariano asked.

"I have no choice. Any suspicious activity will completely obliterate the element of surprise... Which is one of the few things we must count on. We may have more men, but they definitely have more ammunition."

"And about the French? More specifically, the Lundwerg family. You know they have connections that could be vital."

"A treaty was signed years ago. I expect full cooperation from the French. But that will only be if situations deteriorate. For now-"

"Lay low, I got it. We'll carry on business as usual. But boss?"

"Yes, Mariano?"

"Be careful," he spoke, "In all our years of knowing each other, I've had the honors of working for you-"

"You work with me, my friend, not for me. This business is a partnership. Your job will not be to protect me, our jobs are to protect each other. No harm will come to you or your family as long as I'm breathing." I clarified, pulling up my emails.

"Grazie, Thank you." He spoke on the other end.

"Keep me informed on the situation." I replied.

"Understood. I was thinking of asking your cook to the banquette event." Mariano spoke, laughter just waiting to break through his voice as if he could see my fingers tense above my keys.

"Mariano." I spoke, low and cold.

"Joking! Joking! Have a good night, boss." He laughed on the other end, before the line went dead.

-

"Morning." Elle groaned, as she walked out of the kitchen. She was still in her large, oversized button down with loose joggers. Even the simplest of clothing looked exquisite on her.

"Good morning." I replied, as I watched her set a plate of surprisingly healthy looking food in front of me.

"What is this?" I asked, glancing back between the plate and her.

"It's Chunky Buckwheat Granola."

"Why do you insist of feeding me salads and whole grain stuff."

"Shut up and eat your granola, you man child." She grumbled back.

There was something about me that loved how feisty she could unintentionally be. It was as if she remembered who I was only after she was done mouthing me off. I waited for the realization of what she had just said, to settle in, but it never did. She just retreated to the kitchen to grab my cranberry juice that she had forgotten about.

Lumiere had been gone from early in the morning. I had sent him out right away to check in to the branch that was attacked last night. Apparently, we lost a few good men in the attack.

Mrs. Potts was also alerted as to what happened this morning. If any women had lived through the dawn of times, and had seen some serious shit, it was Mrs. Potts. She knew every deep and dangerous secret this family had. Her safety was just as important, if not more important, than mine.

"How do you look so alive right now?" Elle asked once she returned. I chose to ignore her question, realizing she probably didn't even need an answer.

"I have a question to ask you." I spoke instead. She glanced up at me, as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

"Go ahead." She nodded.

"There's a banquette that's coming up in the next couple of days. It's mandatory that I bring a date." I explained, digging in to the granola that tasted surprisingly delicious. "I was hoping you would accompany me."

"I-I-" she replied, her demeanor completely changing as I stared at her. Even her flustered state was extremely attractive. "I mean, I'd love to." She nodded finally, shakily setting the cranberry juice onto the table.

"Wonderful. How is your ballroom dancing?"

"Nonexistent." She admitted.

"As I suspected. I have business to attend to today, but once I return, I'll teach you how. Tomorrow, we will go pick out your gown." I sighed, savoring the delicious flavor that was oozing from the blueberries.

"O-Okay." She nodded, turning to leave, but I called out to her before she could go.

"Hey Elle?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a date."

"Thank you."

Elle's POV

"Thank you."

Jesus fucking Christ, Elle. Thank you? Yes, let's just go fake our death now so we can live out a life in solitude.

I glanced up with my burning cheeks as Stefan tried to stifle a laugh.

I was just too smooth.

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