Carla was going to Michael's wedding along with her fiancé; they were going to be, as Carla had put it. "Taking notes and reporting."

Nikita's new friend had noticed the way the blonde's eyes twinkled when Michael entered the equation. She had reminded Nikita about Walter's advice towards a union with Michael. "Look Nik I don't care if you buff the guy, wouldn't blame you, he is after all delicious, but that family is a little weird – I can see Michael's mother coming after you with an axe."

Nikita let out a sigh and continued the demolition. Wielding the heavy mallet she finally made the wall tumble and then got startled when the phone rang one more time. "…ello?" She answered.

"Ms. Wirth there is a Mr. Weldman here to see you." The security guard at the gate reported.

"Yes, send him through." Nikita answered.

She hung up the phone, dusted herself off, removed the bandana and eyewear and ran into the house to wash her hands and face. She was a wee nervous at the prospect of a strange man, an ex con, rooming with her; but then this was not her house and Mick made the rules.

The man rang the doorbell and looked around, more at the enormous house than at the imposing view. He was whistling and rocking on his high tops as he waited for the door to be opened. Nikita observed him through the security screen. He was handsome in a boyish sort of way, clear blue eyes and short cropped hair that had been tinted a platinum blonde. He smiled at the screen when Nikita called out. "Yes."

"Ms. Wirth…Mick told me to come…I am Grey Weldman, have you spoken with Mick yet?" The man was nervous and Nikita smiled for he looked not a day over 20.

"Hi." The blonde appeared at the other side of the door. "Yes Mick told me about you, please come in…I guess this is your house also."

"Yes, I don't mean to put you out. I know you are Mick's woman and I will respect that." Grey said – babbling.

Nikita let out a resounding laugh – "I am what? That Mick…welcome to the Porno Palace. Everyone calls it this around here, although it is my intention to make it into the beauty it can be. Are you mechanically inclined?"

"I have a degree in architecture, thus I can really work most portions of 'home remodeling'. By the debris downstairs I see you have started already." Grey said relaxing a bit.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Nikita said, her arm weft into the crook of his elbow, and moved with Grey to one of the guestrooms. Not the one Michael had used; she had decided to never change those sheets or allow anyone to sleep there ever again.

Nikita thought that life was starting to look up. A professional, a gentleman and handsome at that. Perhaps he would help her forget Michael, scratch that itch as it where. After all, this guy could be a one-night stand – hands down!

////

Michael's wedding was expensive and gaudy. Proof that money does not buy class. Michael's family was horrified, especially Lady Adrian and her proper and always elegant daughter Madeline. But the bride's family paid for the wedding and the bride set the style; too bad Carol had none.

Walter laughed, "Gold lame is perhaps the most annoying material known to man Adrian, I can see it in your face."

"No Walter, everything can be done with polish and elegance. Grace is something the Viscanos are in desperate need of. Perhaps Michael will teach this woman a thing or two."

"You either got eclat or you don't. I don't think you can teach it." Walter laughed louder.

---

The wedding was held at the bride's home, a rambling estate with a great deal of security. The church had denied Carol a religious ceremony because she had been married before – news to Michael. Why then had he been warned repeatedly by his father-in-law to keep the woman celibate?

Of course this had caused a tremendous broo-ha-ha between the couple. But all the fear Carol had felt, all the sorrow she had expressed went in one of Michael's ear and out the other; he had no choice, no matter what - the wedding would take place. Michael was resigned to the idea and daydreamed about Nikita during the entire ceremony.

The outside perimeter of the compound being closely watched by the authorities who were taking photos, audio tapes and any other type of Intel they could lay their hands on. And then there was the media, especially the tabloids, there to report on the wedding of the year. The Chairman of the Board of S.A.M. marrying into the mob – a made for television movie if there ever was one.

----

The couple had gone on their honeymoon to France. He was not looking forward to spending time with Carol, she tended to whine, complain, demand and act totally like the spoiled brat she was. Thank God the woman had been so drunk by the time they arrived in their hotel room that Michael was saved – no nooky on the wedding night.

With the time change and with Michael's unhappiness and frustration, sleep was not coming for the young man. He put on a jacket and decided to go for a coffee at the hotel's lobby bar. The place was bustling with tourists and locals and he felt comfort in the midst of it all. He ordered a café au lait and sat watching the comings and goings.

Michael requested a house phone and proceeded to call Nikita. The phone rang repeatedly and finally Grey picked it up on the ninth ring. Nikita was taking a shower before going out to dinner.

"Hello". The architect answered.

"Err…is this the Schtoppel residency?" Michael asked.

"Yes can I help you?" Grey said, this was the first time he answered a phone in over two years and the quiet man was happy to do so.

"Is Nikita there?" Michael asked a bit annoyed.

"Who is this?" Grey who had already, in his mind, made plans that included the blonde asked annoyed.

"This is Nikita's…cousin." Michael said, more annoyed than Grey was. "Who are you?"

"I am Nikita's…friend. She is taking a shower can I ask her to return your call?" Grey asked.

"I am afraid not, could you go get her please. I am calling long distance…just tell her Michael is on the phone, it is kind of an emergency." Michael said.

"Alright." Grey who figured Michael was family, not much of a threat and who also didn't want to piss off Nikita went to get her.

----

Grey had knocked on Nikita's bedroom door and had called out that the phone call was for her. Nikita had yelled back that she had it, and picked up the extension on her nightstand. She saw the red light of the phone Grey had used disappear.

"…ello" She said, thinking it was Carla with a report of the previous night's wedding.

"Hi" his deep sultry accented greeting sending instant emotions to all the right parts.

"Michael what are you doing?" She asked. "Aren't you on your honeymoon?"

"Yes, but I wanted to hear your voice." There it was, again Michael looking for trouble.

"Michael how are you doing?" She asked.

"Miserable, do you miss me?" He asked. "I miss you Kita."

"Yes Michael, but you have to give your marriage a chance." She answered. "Ours is something that will never happen, give it up, go on."

"Is that what you are doing." He was getting angry.

"What do you mean?" She asked confused.

"Grey – your friend." Michael answered. "I had to tell him I was your cousin for he would not put you on the phone."

"Michael he is a friend of Schtoppel's staying here for a few days." Nikita said.

"Kita…I don't know how to ask this but…would you wait until I get back before getting involved with – anyone." He begged, his voice soft, a sweet whisper.

"Michael I have no intention on getting involved with anyone for now. It has nothing to do with you, it has to do with me…go back to your wife, give your marriage a chance." She said.

"Stop that, it is not a real marriage, I don't love this woman. Did you find the PDA I left you? Michael asked.

"No, where did you leave it and why?" She asked figuring it was not her place to hound him about this.

"I want you to carry it with you always. It is in the drawer of the desk in the room I used. Kita for some reason you have become my weakness." He said.

"I think that it is you rebelling against your family Michael, that too shall pass. Now where is she?" She asked.

"Sleeping it off." Michael said as Nikita heard Grey knocking on her bedroom door.

"Michael try to make the best of this please. I'll be here whenever you need me – I am your friend." She said and they bided each other goodbye.

----

Nikita opened the door and told Grey. "Listen I am not feeling well, I need to go to sleep. I am sorry."

"Perhaps we can have dinner tomorrow?" He asked.

"Perhaps…if I feel better. I think it was all the heat while we worked on the cabana." Nikita said. "There is plenty of food in the fridge…see you tomorrow, enjoy your first night out."

"Ok, I may take a walk on the beach…I'll be alright, hope you feel better." He said and the blonde closed the door.

She waited until Grey went for his walk and retrieved the PDA; it already had a text message from Michael. "Hi, are you there?" Knowing that he was away from his PDA she answered anyway. "Yes."

////

The honeymoon had lasted a good month. To Michael it had seemed an eternity. He spent his days and nights daydreaming – his new hobby – of Nikita. He tended to compare Carol to Nikita at every turn and of course, in his mind's eye Nikita was always a formidable victor. His performance with his wife was flawless; he played the attentive new husband to perfection. But then again, he had stopped himself a couple of times wondering what was happening to him – 'damn it' Michael would say, 'stay focused.'

The matter of the coital bliss had been addressed early on the second morning when Carol awoke all readied for her communion. The woman aggressive and determined approached her sleeping husband who was of course sporting a tent under the marital sheets. The obsessed woman mistook his morning reaction for an invitation to partake, and was sadly disillusioned when the handsome readied man she had married deflated immediately upon seeing her face. Her hopes for feasting dashed. She groped at him with desperation and Michael 'daintily (yes I said Michael daintily) removed her hand.

"Oh Michael!" She spoke, trying franticly to re-awaken the sleeping giant.

"I am so sorry!" Michael answered his face full of remorse, his heart singing a grateful hymn.

"But…" She stopped herself. Couldn't, didn't want to ask. Even insensitive self absorbed and annoying as hell bitches knew that the male 'Richard' had a mind of its own.

Michael, the brilliant strategist, thought – as it were – on his back and proceeded with the convoluted plan that hopefully would not turn around and bite him in the ass. After all Michael knew that not only Paul's revenge, the eradication of the modern day Mafia and his Mother's happiness were at stake…there was also the possibility that Nikita would be cancelled by an unforgiving Section if he failed.

Michael held her hands in his, more than anything to stop her incessant manhandling. "I…I…err…am sorry Carol. I now have this problem once in a while. My analyst says…" She interrupted him, speaking softly – holding his green gaze with her shit color one.

"Michael" whine, whine. "When did you start going to an analyst?" She asked.

"…When I found out you were lying to me." There it was – brilliant! "You…lied to me Carol and toppled my confidence." Tears wetting his magnificent gaze, turning her eyes into pools of chocolate with grief for her traitorous behavior. He sat on the bed; his pajama clad legs dangling over the side, and holding his face in his hands he continued. "My analyst explains that perhaps in time I will recuperate – hopefully" turning to her, "but for now Carol – we must let nature take its course."

The woman had been left speechless as he padded her hand and walked remorsefully to the bathroom, were he closed the door and did a happy jig. The advances stopped for now…Michael didn't even want to ask for how long. He had grabbed the PDA from the shaving kit and written a long lovesick note to Nikita…Michael had the hots for the blonde in a big way.

-----

On the Concorde winging its way back to America Carol was telling Michael. "I have more to confess" grief stricken face, "we lied to my father."

"Who lied?" Michael confused asked.

"My first husband Jurgen and I. Well, not my first husband – he is not dead Michael, so I guess I am not really married to you after all." She let out a breath.

Michael mouth hung open, "What?" a mixture of relief and terror inhabiting his muscular body.

"My father's family would have killed him. We had to pretend. Michael, please…I am carrying his baby…since you have that problem…" pointing to his crotch. "I couldn't hold the secret any longer. Please, I need to pretend…or they will kill my husband, the love of my life." The woman wept.

"We'll figure out a way Carol, don't fret." And Michael excused himself, letting the woman cry, feigning grief.

In the cramped bathroom Michael pulled out the PDA and wrote… "Nikita I have found a way."

----

Meanwhile back in California where fortunately the sun shined everyday, other advances were being averted. Not because Michael had asked her to remain celibate – who the hell did Mr. Casanova think he was? - But because Nikita found Grey, a little light on the loafers – he was whinny, possessive, controlling, too blonde, too not-Michael. She wondered how Michael was faring, how his magnificent package looked in the afterglow of the honeymoon business – although the PDA messages assured her that he was being faithful to their non-existent relationship and that he was miserable without her.

Michael gave great text-message-sex. He would make her skin bubble, her panties soak, and her heart race with his sultry, color-coded, increased pixel "Hi". Her resistance from then on went downhill…what followed always attentive, full of promises and awfully erotic. The man, whether here or there was a wet dream and Nikita couldn't possibly throw away her prospects and envisages for a loser like Grey. 'There' she had said 'is no comparison.'

"Nik, why won't you let me woe you?" Grey had repeated at nauseam.

"I have told you Grey I am still in mourning, and I like you as a friend only. That is all that you will ever be." Well, the mourning remark was an invention, a story she had made up. The friend remark was also a lie – for she truly didn't even like the man.

Over and over the conversation went the same. Nikita politely refusing the man's advances, the man insisting in his very vexatious way. The month was almost over; Michael would be back and perhaps…when you wish upon a star!

----

Nikita's PDA sat in a drawer in the bathroom were no one, especially Grey, could find it. She was rushing around getting ready and had no time to check on the Palm Pilot. She knew that Michael was on the plane back, or maybe had already landed and she was sure he would call her cell phone the moment he landed and could give his wife the slip. She made up her mind that she would surrender to Michael the minute she saw him, the hell with the consequences. Playing hard to get had been done, she needed to try new tactics.

----

'You won't be able to resist me this time.' Grey said facing the mirror in his room as he dressed to go see Mick. 'On our way back from the jail I plan to…"

His thoughts were interrupted when Nikita knocked and said. "Are you ready?"

What nefarious thoughts cursed through the ex-con architect's mind? Only the shadow knows!

In a dark corner of the man's room stood a shadow, it's silhouette melding into the dark fabric of the sun-blocking pleated curtains. Not a sound from the shadow, not a pleat disturbed. Gray was never the wiser that his conniving plans were known by anyone, least of all, the intruder in his room.

////

Sometimes when life hands you lemons – it is just that, forget the crap about the lemonade. Nikita tapped her foot against the foyer's marble floor; her chino skirt clad derrière resting on the table. She had wanted to leave the house promptly at the planned time so that their arrival at the jail would be exactly when the visiting hours commenced. She had told Grey she did not want to miss a minute with the incarcerated man. Poor Mick had been so very generous with both of them and the least they could do was visit with him promptly.

One more time "Grey, we are going to be late, we need to get going." No answer from the man, he had been primping for an hour.

This time she stalked up the stairs to his room. Her face reflecting a modicum of anger but inside she was fuming. At the door she stopped for she smelled a caustic odor that sent her stomach reeling. She controlled the vile that raised wondering what the smell was. "Grey?"

He opened the door; his blank face scared her, his clothing skewed. His eyes fixed and dilated and his posture too stiff. He moved with ragged steps and collapsed in her arms and reeked of the now sickly sweet odor. She tried to let out a scream as she saw the shadow rush pass the door, pushing her to the side and then flying down the stairs. Her voice faltering still, she could not scream.

And then she heard a hoarse whisper from the man in her arms "Let it go Nik, just let it go."

Nikita moved carefully and with great difficulty to the bed. She sat him there and turned to call the police. Grey stopped her, "Don't." He ordered.

"There has been a break in, look around…" She protested.

"Drop it I said…no police please." The man pleading, his speech slurred.

"But you are hurt…" She softly said as she looked around and saw the drug paraphernalia on the floor and the messy bed. Understanding donned on the innocent blonde. "You've been doing drugs in here – you son of a bitch. You've put me in peril for your stupid, destructive habit? Who was that, your pusher? God damned it Grey, I am calling the police."

As she moved to get the phone Grey was on her like white on rice. He rushed her finding strength where she had seen none minutes before. A vice like grip on her neck, cutting the flow of air, whispering in her ear softly "If he doesn't kill you, I will damn it. Now shut up, take off all your clothes and lie on the bed. He was not satisfied with me alone, he is going to want you too…"

Terror overtook Nikita, she couldn't scream, couldn't complain, couldn't protest. All the training in self-defense disappeared, forgotten like some passing consideration. She thought she was actually going to die as panic overwhelmed her, instead she just passed out. Hearing muffled conversations, crashing sounds, not able to open her eyes, to witness her defilement.

---

What seemed like hours passed, she awoke in an unrecognizable place. Sterile, modern and sparse, she could smell the ocean and hear its crashing waves. She tried to incorporate her nude body on the bed, but couldn't. However, she could see shadows. Her mind was foggy, like if a hundred Clydesdales had marched inside her head. Her mouth was dry – painfully so; she tried to speak and couldn't.

----

When she woke up again Michael stood by the foot of the bed. Her body was now clad in a soft camisole and drawstring pants of the softest pastel pink, in contrasts with the bold bedding. The room was no longer sterile or sparse; this room was well appointed and comfortable. The linens soft and inviting. She sat up bolt upright.

"Where am I?" She asked, "Not you please, not you." She repeated cowering when he caressed her exposed toes. "Don't touch me."

She was yelling and Michael's calm demeanor infuriated her more. "Nikita, you are still discombobulated."

"DON'T TOUCH ME – GET OUT!" She yelled, so he turned and walked out the room as a lamp hit the closing door.

Nikita walked around the room. She was sad, not only was Michael a drug dealer and a rapist, he had also kidnapped her. She couldn't believe that the gentle, secure and funny man she had fallen in love with was such a monster. She lay down again and slept some more, the weight of her lids proving to be a great adversary.

-----

"How is she?" The man asked.

"She'll be fine – there is no question she is your daughter." Michael answered with a smile.

"Feisty?" The woman asked laughing.

"You won't laugh for long, she broke the $12,000 lamp in her room." The man added amused.

/////

Nikita woke up again a couple of hours later; her body did not ache as much as she remembered it hurting before. She was still in the same room, but this time Michael was no where to be found. She got out of the bed, still wearing the same sleeping clothing and went through the door that obviously housed the bathroom.

The spacious luxurious bathroom had not only an antique bathtub, but also a glass-enclosed shower, a separate room for the toilet and bidet and an antique armoire where a pair of painted basins sat. A door to the left of the sinks led to another spacious dressing room with floor to ceiling mirrored doors to two sets of closets.

Nikita smiled to herself as she entered the toilet and said out loud, "If you bastards are going to keep me here prisoner, you might as well allow me all this luxury."

Nikita checked herself out; there were no signs of violation or bruises, except for the obviously fresh black and blue mark at her neck. Nothing else. She remembered Grey holding her in a chokehold, but that was the end of that memory.

She decided to shower, wash her hair and teeth. Again she checked her private parts carefully, wanted to see if she had been raped. She didn't know much about how someone was supposed to look after a rape, but to her untrained eye, she didn't look like if anything had happened to her other than the chokehold.

"Hmm." She wondered, and yelled, "What the hell is going on?"

She opened a closet door and realized one closet was full of men's clothing – mostly black. Then she opened the other set of doors and found women's clothing – her size. She chose a lilac pique camisole and low hung pedal pushers and sandals with little purple flowers. Her hair down, lipstick only, she didn't need anymore makeup. She wanted whomever to be reminded of the angry purple bruise on her neck.

"Hello" she heard a male voice calling from the door to her room. She entered the room to find a bespectacled young man wearing baggy clothing and tennis shoes and sucking on a liquorice stick. "Hi."

"Hello yourself. Where the hell am I?" She asked moving towards him.

"Does that hurt?" He asked pointing at her neck.

"What do you think?" She sarcastically replied. "I asked where am I?"

"You are home." He said and smiled, opening the door further and waving her to pass.

"Err…" apprehension obvious in her previously defiant voice. "Where is Michael?"

"He is gone for now. Please come with me." The young man asked her.

"What is your name." She said.

"I am Seymour Birkoff, you can call me Birkoff." He said blushing.

"Have I been kidnapped?" She asked.

"Kidnapped? I am confused." He stuttered.

"Well, I was taken against my will from Mick's house, right?" She moved closed to the boy who moved back embarrassed when she put a hand on his face.

"Listen, I think you should know something before you make a pass at me…" Seymour said and she interrupted laughing loudly, but he proceeded anyway, "you are my sister; and we are on our way to meet the rest of the family."

With this bombshell, Seymour Birkoff turned and started moving away from the woman, to see if she would follow. At first she didn't, she was rooted to the floor right were she stood. Her mind racing – what had she done, where had she been, who was she. Shit!

"Wait right there…I am WHAT?" She asked confused.

"You are my sister." He repeated in an overly exaggerated enunciation, as though she was having trouble hearing him. The young man was more than frustrated. "I just found out today also but gosh I am not as slow as you." He sat on a bench outside Nikita's room and she joined him.

"But please, explain … what about Grey, Mick?" Nikita asked hands on face, elbows resting on her knees.

"Our father loves to talk Nikita, he'll want to explain." Birkoff said. "I'll fill you in though – Mick was a plant, it seems coincidences do exist. Grey – well he is everything you think he is."

"A drug addict, ex con?" She asked incredulous. "With a pusher that makes house calls."

"Exactly, but please let's go before we get in trouble." Birkoff added and both stood.

"Wait…was I raped? Did Michael…rape me?" Nikita asked, tears in her eyes.

"What? Michael…my brother?" Seymour screamed.

"Oh my God…" Nikita's legs gave out and she had to sit again.

"Michael is a man of honor. The drug dealer in Mick's house was quickly apprehended, you never saw him other than the moment when he brushed passed you." Seymour answered. "And furthermore, my brother Michael saved your bacon, he came in just in time to catch that Grey character taking off your clothes – you were half naked. You should have seen Grey when Michael finished with him…man he looked like if he had been run over by a truck. Needless to say, Michael took care of Grey – I think he too has been cancelled." Shrugging his shoulders.

"Cancelled?" She asked.

"Never mind, you'll learn what you need to know in due time." Birkoff said pulling another piece of candy from his shirt pocket.

"Did Michael rape me?" She asked again.

"Michael would not do a thing to hurt you." He answered and then a bit irate. "And, have you taken a good look at him – women throw themselves at him, he doesn't need to force anyone…"

"Is he my brother too?" Nikita asked.

"Freaks you out that you were having impure thoughts for your brother?" Birkoff asked laughing.

"You little shit, just answer." She grabbed his scrawny arms and pinched him.

"Ouch – not yours, only mine." And rubbing the spot where she had pinched him. "By the way…he freaked out too. That is what you two get for making out with strangers."

Nikita stood from the bench and bending a bit swept her hand to show Birkoff and said, "Lead and I shall follow."

////

The sunroom was all white wood and tile. Tall ceilings and walls lined with glass panes. The rattan and wicker furniture cushioned in tropical florals and the ceiling fan blades covered in dried banana leaves rotated soundlessly. Different seating areas and glass-topped tables filled the room, some around the breathtaking view, others around the fireplace that stood proudly on the west side of the enormous room. A wooden game table held precious metal chess pieces and a bandana wearing man that Nikita recognized as Walter played the game with a distinguished woman dressed in khaki pants and cap sleeved sweater.

A beautiful brunette looked out of the glass windows. Decked out in white crisp cotton pants and shirt, navy sweater around her shoulders, she stood drinking lemonade from a tall colorful glass. A striking resemblance to Michael, except for the eye color was a tell-tell sign of family ties.

A man, white hair and blue eyes sat reading the newspaper in one of the deep cushioned sofas. He was handsome and wore a pair of jeans and a light blue polo shirt. On his lapel a Vietnam Era Prisoner of War Pin. The man was engrossed in the article before him and puffed slowly on a long brown cigarette. The soft sound of the Muzak filled the room with music.

Before entering the room, or making their presence known Birkoff turned to a skeptical Nikita. He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled a warm smile that reached his eyes. Nikita felt more at ease, even before the young man spoke.

"No matter what - Michael and I are happy you are in our family." Birkoff finished the statement by winking.

"Thank You Birky." She said and kissed his cheek. "I am going to like having a little brother."

----

The glass door leading to the sunroom was closed. When the inhabitants of the bright room heard the gold door handles twist they looked up. Birkoff pushed the doors open and with flair and enthusiasm said.

"This is Nikita Wirth…Jones." Smiled and bowed.

Paul Wolfe who sat on the couch and Walter Jones who sat by the game table stood. As did George Jones who Nikita had not seen before, but who stood by the white wood and brushed cooper bar serving himself a cup of coffee. Walter crossed the enormous room to greet the blonde woman who stood stoically by the entrance. Nikita somehow found comfort in Seymour's proximity and let out a breath she had been holding when she felt Michael presence behind her.

She knew he was there long before he had entered the room. His nearness making every hair in her body stand on edge. His musky perfume permeating her senses making her deliciously tingly all over. 'Bring it on guys' she whispered 'nothing can stop me now.' Michael smiled.

-----

"Michael son, when did you get back?" The beautiful brunette asked ignoring the blonde. "How come you returned so soon. Where is your wife?"

"Not now Madeline" Paul said as Walter finally approached the blonde.

"Nikita welcome to our summer home." Walter greeted her. "Come in, let me introduce you."

"Wait Walter, where exactly am I? And what is going on, how come…" Nikita was interrupted by Michael who put a hand to the small of her back and propelled her forward.

"Kita, come sit." They sat next to each other in one of the sofas looking at the panorama. The rest of those present followed suit.

"The compound is relatively close to California – about three hours away as the crow flies. Your brothers can give you a tour after we speak... After the incident at Mick's house the family decided to bring you here." Walter added.

"Are you my father?" She turned to Paul who quietly looked at her and whose eyes resembled her own.

"Yes." Succinctly answered.

"Any other family members I should know about before we continue?" She asked.

"I am your grandfather." George said. "And to be blamed for this plight. First I want to apologize…"

Nikita interrupted standing. "That is something we need to talk about later…apologies and all that. Now, if you don't mind" she turned to Michael. "I hope no one minds but after I learn who is whom here perhaps I can speak with my father and grandfather alone…"

This time Madeline interrupted, "I most certainly object, I am Paul's wife, Michael and Seymour's mother…"

"Madeline, I said not now…go with the boys and your parents, I need to speak to my…daughter." Paul said, his voice low, tremulous.

"Yes mamman leave them alone." Seymour said and Nikita moved to the bar and took a stool with George and Paul following. "Nikita you already know my mother, so the only one that you have not met is Lady Adrian." Nikita turned to the gentile looking woman that stood by Walter. "She is Walter's wife, Madeline's mother and Michael and my grandmother."

The woman moved forward, grabbed Nikita gently by the shoulders and kissed her on each cheek. "Bienvenue." She whispered, taking her daughter Madeline's hand and gently, followed by everyone else, guided her out of the room; leaving Paul, George and Nikita alone.

Nikita and Michael's eyes were locked in each other as the handsome man followed his family out the door. He whispered to his brother, as the younger man waited to close the glass doors. "She wants me…" and smiled.

"Like if you don't want her…" Seymour joked back softly.

/////

Paul poured three cups of coffee and George paced. Nikita sat on the stool twisting the chair in a nervous gesture. Handing a cup to the girl, who took the cream and one sugar cube and stirred, Paul said. "Dad, let me explain what we know to her, you can fill any blanks I leave."

"Ok son, go ahead." George said, picked up his cup and took a barstool.

"How do I start? What do you know about us – or about me?" Paul asked Nikita.

"All I know is what my adoptive mother Roberta told me before she died." Nikita said. "That she had met and become fast friends with my Californian mother who had run away from her much older husband in order to have her baby. When my mother died, a year after I was born, my father a Mr. Jones who lived in Malibu had paid Roberta to keep me comfortable and away from the States." Nikita said and took a sip of her coffee, observing both men from the rim of her cup. "A stupid story…I am sure."

"Well not stupid but not entirely accurate, no disrespect to Ms. Wirth." Paul said.

"Let me son." George piped in. "Nikita, from the beginning ok?" George said.

"Please." Nikita answered politely.

"Walter and I are brothers, I am a year older. I married Belinda Wolfe my sainted wife who died 25 years ago - I never remarried. Madeline and Paul are both adopted from childbirth, Paul always carried my wife's last name - Wolfe. Our family chose the natural surrogate parents through Ivan Chernov, and they gave us our children. Chernov was a Russian physician who did all kinds of genetic experiments behind the Iron Curtain. Madeline married Michael's father, Paul's business partner and they were very happy. But because they had it all, majority interest in the business, a son, a happy marriage, and Paul had loved Madeline forever I became obsessive and destructive. I wanted my son to have it all – he had different ideas."

Nikita watched both men. Paul's face was hard to read his head down. George hardly looked at either of them as he spoke. He continued.

"After Madeline married and my son realized he had to respect her wishes he got on with his life. Paul fell in love with a woman named Simone who he secretly married. I found out and dug up her past and worse yet her present, Simone's last name was Viscano - Paul left Simone. He met your mother and they had a torrid affair." Paul interrupted.

"NO! I am taking over now father." Paul stood before the woman, looking her in the eyes. "Your mother was a beautiful sensitive woman, whom I loved a lot. She helped me through the most horrible time of my life – the betrayal of my wife, the divorce. Eventually discovering I had a son with Simone named Steven and that they had both died in a kidnapping plot gone array" Paul was crying "drove me to the edge. Simone was still married to a member of the Cosa Nostra – the Mafia, and I found out she had been using me."

"I am sorry." Nikita said.

"Your mother had found out she was pregnant, got spooked because of the kidnapping and everything else; and because my father convinced her she ran away – I didn't know where to, I thought she was dead, didn't know about you. Father is the man that paid Roberta and pretended he was I. So sorry Nikita…" Paul said holding her hands.

"Why now…and don't tell me it is because of love. Why look for me now, I would have never found you. But you could have found me quickly with all your resources." She said pulling her hands from Paul's grasp.

"I told you, I thought she was dead and I didn't know of your existence until six moths ago when Roberta died. She had written a letter that was mailed to me by the hospital. I confronted my father and started looking for you." Paul said. "You may not know it but you were born to take over, continue the dream. I want to retire, don't want to argue with Michael anymore about the business, I am giving you my power. You can run the business with Michael."

"Nikita, please there are no words…" George said.

"You are an old man George, God will forgive you. What you did to Paul, to my mother, to myself cannot be undone. Let us start from scratch, don't ask me to forgive you, don't apologize, it is much too late for that." Nikita said.

"So?" George asked. "Then where do we go from here?"

"Forward I guess." Nikita said.

/////

Michael and Seymour waited for Nikita outside of the sunroom. Three hours had passed since they had left the woman alone with her destiny. The sun had raised higher as the noon hour approached the private island in the Hawaiian chain.

Outside of the majestic grounds the land lay untouched, like the day God had created it – wild and untamed in its magnificence. Or so it appeared to the Islanders who in the pristine beaches mined the precious and extremely rare Ni'ihau shells. These would be fashioned into expensive leis worth thousands of dollars and even adorned with the official flower - the pupu shell.

The blonde emerged unscathed, not worse for the wear and yet there was a hitch to her step. The brothers sat outside the glass double doors that led to the pool. They were sipping iced tea and playing quietly a game with glass pieces that Nikita didn't recognize. But then at this point she was questioning her own existence, how was she to know anything else. Michael furtively watched as she composed herself on the other side of the door letting out a long breath before stepping out to further face her destiny.

"Kita." Michael called out as the blonde shuttered her eyes from the intense sun. "Over here."

Birkoff stood and approached her handing her a pair of sunglasses with an admonishment. "Wait here, you are going to need sunscreen."

She nodded, reached for the glasses and rooted herself to the spot. Michael then approached her. "How'd it go?"

"Let us say I feel you are…" Nikita trailed off, not finishing.

"Competition?" He asked and let out a small laugh.

"No…a sacrificial lamb. These men are not only ruthless, callous and…" She searched for the correct term.

"I would say delusional…My mother suffers from that disease herself…Don't worry Kita, they don't control me…we'll make sure they don't control you either." He patted her hand, winked and invaded her space, leaving her as always shaking with a sense of longing. "We'll make a formidable pair, I'll fill you in, not here or now…" and holding her chin tenderly, his eyes matching the flora, her eyes the sky. "Ok?"

She did nothing else but nod. Birky was approaching with a brown bottle of sunscreen, some high SPF number blazoned on the side in red. "Here slather this on, or would you like your brother to do it for you?" An obvious attempt to relief the tension.

"I'll do it…why are you called Birkoff?" She asked as they moved towards the back of the house.

"My given middle name. Has something to do with a story about a prisoner after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. A lone Japanese pilot involved in the attack crashed on the island and was captured by Michael's grandfather and kept captive for the duration of the war. The man died after giving much Intel but never knowing the war was over." Seymour recounted as Nikita weft her arm through the crook of his arm. Michael walked silently next to them.

"Ooohhh Birky I am impressed." Nikita mocked and her brother sported an obviously hurt face. "Hey don't fret, it is better than being named after the short, fat, bold Russian Communist leader who banged his shoe on the table at the OAS and provoked the October Missile Crisis." She smiled. "Don't you think?"

-----

The private island of Ni'ihau* had been in the Samuelle family since King Kamehameha IV sold it to them in 1863 for a paltry $10,000. Michael was the sole surviving owner of the priceless piece of land. How did one put a price on Paradise when Heaven had no price? Michael gladly shared the right to this piece of patrimony with his extended family out of the goodness of his heart, for only a Samuelle belonged there.

The smallest of the inhabited Islands in the chain didn't appear in any map and was undetectable. Geographically it was 17 miles off the West Coast of Kaua'I, with a land area of 70 square miles. Thanks to Walter's incredible ability with 'gadgets' the family felt invisible when they visited the island. Thus the island had become a haven, a piece of heaven ready to be enjoyed without the vicissitudes of the life they led.

Inhabited by a mere 250, the island enjoyed none of the comforts of modernity in order to preserve its culture. No roads, electricity, tourists, traffic, automobiles – nothing but wild undisturbed Nirvana, except for inside the sprawling compound. The protection of the island was a religion to the family, a family that needed a haven.

------ *The island does exist, it is a private island and belongs to the Sinclair family. Part of the Japanese survivor story is real, but mostly it is fiction. As with any of these stories, I have taken great poetic license to make reality fit into my fanfic. Let's face it – is there a man as deliciously perfect as Michael Samuelle?

/////

Nikita had been given the scenic tour of the beautiful island, easy task considering their surroundings. The siblings spoke of nothing more than the beauty of the island, of the history of the place and of the fables it enveloped. They laughed and talked until exhausted they returned to the main house.

Nikita had not learned anything more about her life, her prospects or her future from Michael and Seymour. As if by agreement the trio had stayed clear of any discussions that could enlighten anyone, including those who were keeping them under surveillance. The blonde woman had entered the world of intrigue by the deep end of the pool – total immersion.

"There you are. Did you like our island Nikita?" Madeline asked, her Mona Lisa smile covering her sharp incisors.

"I thought it was Michael's island…oh well, in any event, yes it is magnificent, don't you think?" Nikita didn't like Madeline, and vice versa.

The brunette, who had changed clothing and now wore a strapless black sheath, three rows of pearls and simple pearl studs in her lobes hooked her arm through Michael's elbow. He looked at Nikita and winked. It was obvious to Michael, as well as Nikita that Madeline was going to be a tough nut to crack. But if you identified your enemy then you were safe as long as you remained aware of their presence.

"Michael your wife called says you weren't answering your cell phone. We chatted for a while, love the girl. We decided you two would host a dinner tomorrow night so the Viscanos can meet your sister." Madeline was acting up for Nikita's benefit as she propelled Michael away from the blonde.

The blonde, left behind with Seymour heard Michael tell his mother as they walked away. "Ni-ki-ta is not my sister mother, you always forget that Paul is NOT my father."

------

Samuelle Armaments and Munitions Enterprises had facilities all over the world. Their corporate headquarters were in Anaheim California. The same City that housed Disneyland housed SAM - a study in contrast to say the least – Mickey and weapons of mass destruction. The concern manufactured strategic missiles, systems integration, space launch vehicles, naval electronics and surveillance missiles, combat electronics, commercial and governmental satellites, as well as a slew of other design, development and integration of large-scale, real-time mission critical systems and software.

Nikita was given the tour of the Anaheim facility with a touch of dismissive annoyance by Terry who had been Paul's executive assistant for many years. His right hand woman that now would obviously have to kowtow to the blonde that professed being her boss' long lost daughter. The man had called her at home early in the morning and had advised that his daughter Nikita Wirth would be there to tour the facility and had instructed her in what to do.

No one had told the woman that Nikita was there to take over her father's position, but no one needed to advise her of said fete. She had heard enough through the years to know exactly what the man's plans were, and she didn't necessarily approve of them. But then she preferred to work under devious manipulative Paul Wolfe than have to assist some new daddy's girl.

Terry had pined for the white haired man for most of her time with him. He had never looked at her as anything more than a faithful and most efficient employee. She had even tried to gain Michael's attention – he had declined kindly and told her he was madly in love with his then fiancé Carol.

"Aggh." Terry had screamed as she hung up the phone with Paul. "This takes the cake." And then to further annoy Terry Nikita had proven to be a beautiful charming young woman with a keen mind and a pleasant disposition. She needed to warn Mr. Viscano that a new horse had entered the field, after all the man did pay her well for the information.

"…and you know that Paul Wolfe's plans to have Nikita seduce Michael in order to gain control of the company." She was saying to the Mafioso.

"But - I understand he found his daughter, what I don't get is how you have arrived at the conclusion that he wants to gain control through Michael." Mr. Viscano was saying.

"Simple, I heard Paul talking to Grey Weldman, the P.I. Wolfe hired to find his daughter. He ordered him to rape Nikita in order to have Michael come in and rescue her – the whole knight in shining armor routine." Terry told Viscano.

"And did it happen. Did Michael rescue this Nikita person?" Viscano asked.

"I don't know yet, but I don't think so – Mr. Weldman has disappeared, he didn't even come around to pick up his last check." Terry said.

"How is Michael going to fall in love with this girl? He is married to my Carol and he loves her. Or have you heard differently." Viscano asked.

"Oh no sir. Michael truly loves Carol. Remember I tried as you requested to seduce Michael and he told me he loved your daughter." Terry answered.

"Alright. Keep me informed, I will do a bit of investigating from this part. Thank you and you'll receive something extra in your check for this information." And Terry and Mr. Viscano hung up the phone, while in another extension of the Viscano home, Carol too hung up the phone and finished her eavesdropping.

///

Nikita sat in the limo her father had sent for her. They had arrived together at the airport and he had taken her directly to SAM explaining that he had to meet Madeline for breakfast and would make arrangements for her after the tour of the facilities. Madeline had left the island with Michael the night before. Nikita had not seen the handsome Frenchman again after his mother had ushered him into the house after her tour of the property.

Now she looked behind to the huge modern facility she had just toured. "What the hell am I getting into?" She questioned no one in particular and then lowered the window between the passenger side and driver side and asked the chauffeur "Where are you taking me now?"

"Popsicle to your home of course." The man to the right of the driver answered.

"Mick! When did they let you out…what are you doing here…Oh my God." The blonde squealed. "Stop the car, get back here and fill me in."

"Miss Wirth, I don't think that is a good idea." O'Brien was driving the car. "Let's get you home as ordered, please."

"O'Brien, is that you?" She asked for the man had shaved his lush black hair and looked a bit like Mick.

He smiled, looked through the rear view mirror and answered. "Yes its me Marco. Nikita we are your team, Michael himself chose us to protect and serve you. Carla is at the house."

"Protect me? And why should I need protection?" She asked.

"Michael will tell you what you need to know, we are to call him the minute we get to the house." Mick answered.

"How about you guys letting me in on what is happening, where am I going to live…" She asked a bit miffed.

"You wouldn't want Michael mad at us, now would you?" Marco said and Mick nodded in agreement.

"Oooh afraid are you?" She mocked.

"Of Michael, you bet." Mick said. "Now pumpkin give us a break will ya?"

"Fine. Am I going back to Malibu?" She asked now fully pissed.

"For the time being. The house has been completely redone and you need to prepare for tonight – you will be dining with Michael's In-laws and your family at Michael's home in Beverly Hills." Marco O'Brien advised her.

"Fine." She closed the window and separated herself from the men, sat back, served herself a glass of Evian and sulked.

The scenery distracted her, her thoughts traveling back to her short time in California. As in a dream sequence in some cheesy B movie she catalogued her memories…all of a sudden she remembered Madeline from the plane from Sydney. The beautiful woman had sat to Nikita's right and had shared with her California, politics and the likes.

They had spoken about the planet; men, life and when the trip had ended Madeline had given Nikita her private number and had wished her good luck. Was this a coincidence? Nikita didn't think so, not at all. After all Nikita had truly liked the woman from the plane – and absolutely despised Michael's mother.

----

The phone on the side of the seat rang and Nikita picked it up. "Hello?"

"Kita" it was Michael. "Are you comfortable, are you getting everything you need?"

"Michael what the hell is going on? Why do I need protection? What is Mick doing out of jail? Why was your mother in my plane from Sydney?" She paused to breathe and Michael laughed.

"You are the inquisitive one, aren't you?" He joked. "In due time Kita. Just promise that you will trust me and that…"

"Bullshit Michael. Why should I trust you? You even said you'd found a way and all of a sudden I am longing to screw my half-brother for heaven sakes." She was grumpy. "I am not a happy camper, how the hell am I going to endure a conversation with the woman that sleeps with you each night…"

"You are longing for me? By the way I am not any fraction of a relation to you…Tell me you do want me." He asked smiling like a schoolboy.

"Hadn't you noticed? You've got to be blind." She flirted, her anger forgotten.

"Hmm, I was too busy wanting you." He had successfully stopped her ranting and made her focus on more pleasant things – or so he thought.

One more time shrilling. "What am I supposed to do tonight – Hi Carol, I am the woman who covets your husband. Is there someplace where Michael and I could finally have sex?"

He laughed. "Behave Kita. I'll find a way, I promise."

"When Michael, when?" She cried. "I want some commitment from your part."

"Soon, be patient." He said.

She was so angry with him that she hissed and hung up the phone. Muttering obscenities under her breath, she almost jumped out of the car when they arrived at the house. Without wasting a second she stormed through the house to the master bedroom, not even acknowledging Carla. She slammed the door and sat on a banquette by the panoramic window.

Carla's cell phone rang. "Yes Michael…she is pissed all right. We'll leave her alone, won't bother her until an hour before she has to go…Ok, we'll drive her." And with this the call ended.

Michael sat in his home office smiling at his cell phone. Nikita was feisty and he couldn't wait to enjoy her. Nikita sat in her room looking at the new modern décor and tried to block any unanswered questions from her mind – but she could not erase the image of Michael or even as much as dim it.

----

The magic hour rolled around and Carla knocked and entered. She found Nikita curled up on the banquette obviously having fallen asleep where she sat. She moved towards the blonde woman softly calling her name. Nikita awoke and like if she had been speaking with Carla all along she asked, "So am I going to finish the wedding dress or was that also a lie?"

"It was … prescribed." Carla answered, "How have you been?"

"Prescribed…I know, I know…how long do I have?" Nikita asked, resigned.

Carla didn't speak again. She moved to the closet and pulled out a creamed colored strapless dress, rhinestone bodice, flounce chiffon skirt and hung it in the dressing room. For the first time Nikita noticed the room.

It had been redone all in white. The only other color came from the ocean beyond her windows. A wonderful white king size bed with satin headboard and bedclothes had replaced the round bed. She entered the bathroom and found a foamy bath waiting for her. She asked Carla to leave her and the brunette did so, leaving Nikita to dress for the evening.

When Nikita appeared at the top of the stairs she was not wearing the dress Carla had taken out for her. In a way Carla enjoyed that her former friend was still hard headed. Instead Nikita had chosen a silk silver suit that accentuated her lean fit body and showed enough décolletage to make Michael anxious – with just enough leg showing.

"Shall we?" She asked and they left.

/////

The limousine sat quietly in front of the house. She walked to it and Mick opened the door for her. Marco moved to sit in the driver's side, Carla had handed her a purse and a pashmina. "You are not coming?" She shot back at the brunette who didn't move from the front door.

"Not this time. Have…fun." She whispered.

Nikita stopped, turned to her former friend and stretched her arms up in the air. "I am now officially part of the California crazies I was warned about…I can't help but have fun." And with this she took a vow, walked on her stylish Manolo Blanicks and held back the anxiety that threatened to spill in the form of tears.

The dark interior offered comfort for a split second. The expensive bouquet of French perfume filled her senses and she forced her eyes to determine the someone that sat across from her in the shadows. "Hello dear." A British accent called out.

"Sugar, we are your escorts for the evening. Thought we should go over some rules before you arrive at the Samuelle Estate." Walter said, taking over for his proper wife Adrian.

"Hello Adrian. Tell me Walter, am I ever again going to have a moment to myself?" Nikita asked moving more into the corner of her seat.

He moved across and sat next to her. His forehead as always covered by a bandana, this time a black and white one, his ponytail always amusing to Nikita. "Sugar, don't say those things about California" and laughing "none of us are from here anyway, hell I don't think anyone comes from California…and the remark is in reference to those Hollywood types."

"Walter, stop making a joke of everything. Can't you see she is upset?" Adrian said moving forward and handing Nikita and Walter a glass of Champagne. "Here drink this, it will make you feel better."

"Unless you hand me the bottle and a straw, I doubt this will make me feel better." The blonde reposted looking at Walter and raising her brows.

"That a girl. Now, we are in Michael's corner. See, our daughter has…" Walter tried.

"A broom up her ass." Adrian added, the other occupants of the car looked at her in surprise. "Yes, don't look at me like that…I may be a proper English Lady, but I have eyes. The woman is so manipulative that in an effort to control everything, and everyone – including Paul, she drives everyone nuts…she needs to let go, get a life…maybe she could…can we trust you with something my dear?" Adrian asked.

"I don't know Adrian, can you?" Nikita totally disgusted with the machinations replied.

"Madeline is not our natural daughter." Adrian said.

"Paul and George told me, neither is Paul George's natural son." Nikita said.

"Clones I tell you…the way they act sometimes, they are freakin' clones." Walter took a long swig of the Champagne and served himself another.

"Of course they are not clones, but you will see we get treated as second class citizens by them and we are probably three times more powerful than they are – go figure." Adrian said.

"Please I am getting more and more confused by the minute. Are you telling me to beware of my Father and Grandfather? I already knew I couldn't trust Madeline." Nikita said.

"Michael asked us to come with you and fill you in. I believe there is much more going on here that meets the eyes. Sugar, we are members of a 5% club of good guys…" Walter said.

"To the point Walter. Michael asked us to tell you not to trust anyone – not even us…see for yourself, judge for yourself who it is you can trust. Make your own determinations. Our grandson is a good man. He is sacrificing much to get to the bottom of this mess." Adrian told her.

Nikita didn't want to hear anything else. She drifted momentarily into her organized thought process and remembered a conversation she had with Michael months before. "What does your stepfather have to do with your marriage? "I though your natural father had arranged the marriage." Michael had answered "…Yes…of course, but Paul feels that he has to guard my father's wishes."

"Has Michael lied to me?" Nikita asked, her face calm full of resignation.

"Not lied Sugar. Michael has a job to do a very important job that sometimes forces him to live this fantastic existence. He cannot divulge much to the rest of us and suffers from the same problem you have of not being able to trust anyone. Think about it, it must be very hard having no one to turn to." Walter said.

"But…" Nikita started.

Adrian interrupted, holding the blonde woman's hands. "He trusts you Nikita. I don't know why, that is up to him to say. He has many responsibilities, many balls in the air all at once. Trust him, even if you can't trust anyone else."

"We have arrived and we didn't even tell you the most important part." Walter said as the limo stopped at the gated entrance to an unbelievable driveway. Marco announced himself to the guard. "Michael wanted you to know that his marriage is…arranged."

"I knew that." Nikita said.

"No dear. Michael had to marry Carol Viscano because her father is the head of the most powerful Mafia family in the world. If we can eradicate the Viscano Family, we will rid the planet of Organized Crime once and for all." Adrian said. "Now, let's not talk anymore of this dear. You need to think, digest all of this."

Nikita looked out the window at the perfectly kept gardens, at the long driveway lined with gaslights. A medieval dream, a castle in the center of a sprawling city. 'What the hell have I gotten into.' She thought once more.

---

Uniformed butlers who bowed when the three latest guests entered guided them to the great room where the rest of the party awaited. Birky was the first to greet them "Nikita…" he said as he approached her "are you ok?" He whispered.

"Fine" she mumbled her eyes searching for Michael. Birkoff kissed his Grandfather and Grandmother.

"Welcome to our home." A pretty brunette, her hair in a bob, her clothing a bit masculine addressed the blonde. The entire room turned to those arriving.

"Carol, Don Viscano, this is my daughter Nikita Wirth." Paul Wolfe said as he moved to greet her.

"My mother couldn't be here." Carol said and kissed Nikita.

"Hello, I have heard so much about you. You are all Michael talks about." Nikita answered still not seeing the handsome Frenchman.

"It must be really difficult for someone to find their long lost family, no?" Don Viscano spoke. The heavy man, whose mouth looked as if it was full of cotton said. "Tell us Nikita how does it feel?"

Nikita who was perhaps smarter than the lot put together answered seriously. "I must confess Don Viscano." Still holding his hand and walking towards a sofa with him. "It is very hard to adjust to all of this. Especially since it has been such a short time since my move to the States, my adoptive mother's death…I was ready to enter an Abbey, my calling and now I have to postpone my plans…It is quite a mess I assure you. And look at me, having to wear these clothing…I tell you it is very hard."

She had noticed the mistrust in the man's eyes as he had sent a chill down her spine. She needed a cover – wasn't that what the spies called it? So she had decided to place herself in the most secure spot – the Church. After all she had seen 'The Godfather' series of movies and the Marlon Brando look alike was not going to get the better of her.

"We had to contact the Ohio Abbey Nikita was on her way to and ask for a postponement." Michael said as he entered the room wearing a dark brown sports coat over tweed brown pants and beige turtleneck. He moved to kiss his wife's head and then kiss his family.

Nikita was quite impressed by the way the man was in total control, his eyes not once crossed hers, not even when he placed a chaste kiss to her cheeks. "I am glad you are all here, Carol and I have something to announce." He walked to his wife and held her hand.

"We are going to have a baby." In the tumult of congratulations and cheers Michael looked at Nikita, his eyes begged for understanding, spoke of grief and pain and somehow held a spark of something Nikita could not discern – could it be hope?

"This calls for a celebration." Paul said.

"A celebration indeed." Don Viscano joined in. "I guess this proves that Michael and my Carol are truly in love."

The cryptic remark worried most. Michael and Carol wondered if it had anything to do with the truth of the pregnancy. Paul, George and Madeline wondered it if had anything to do with their plans for Michael and Nikita. The rest of those present just found it plain odd.

"That they are." Nikita said. "Do you know that I had the opportunity to spend about 4 hours getting to know my brothers and Michael did nothing but talk non-stop of Carol? It was very sweet…I have never seen anyone so much in love, and I am sure that Carol reciprocates this love."

She moved embracing the expectant mother and then, with her back to the room hugged Michael and mouthed "I trust you."

"Dinner is served." A white gloved uniformed majordomo announced.

/////

Don Viscano walked on the arm of Nikita into the dinning room. A magnificently decorated room with a long wooden table that sat 20 comfortably. The crystal gleamed, the silverware shined, the dishes expensive and fragile. It was obvious to Michael's family that he had his thumbprint on the elegance and richness of the room, obviously his wife had just walked into this opulence. After all, the family knew what her choices had been when she registered for the wedding gifts.

"So tell me when did you decide you had the 'calling'." The Don was asking Nikita, there was a noticeable hush to the conversation of the others entering the room.

"Wagga Wagga, Australia" Nikita said. "We used to visit there in the summers."

"Really?" The fat man asked. "And what is there?"

"Yes really, I know the name sounds funny, but it is a fine community of monastic, contemplative nuns who dedicate their life to prayer and spiritual service to others."

"What order?" Viscano continued. He was not letting up.

"Father, enough…" Carol said. "It sounds as though you are interrogating her."

"Oh don't worry Carol. I don't mind talking about it. The are Carmelite nuns." Nikita said.

Michael was watching quietly, his eyes darting back and forth. He was amazed at Nikita who had been thrown into this situation and was performing like a pro. He intervened at what he thought was a mistake on her part.

"But Nikita the Abbey in Ohio is not a Carmelite Abbey, right?" He knew that Don Viscano was very knowledgeable of the Church. In an attempt to buy his God's pardon, the Mafioso poured money especially into Abbeys and Monasteries.

"You are right Michael. But eventually I wanted to get into the Carmelite Abbey here in California or the one in Louisiana. Have you heard of those?" Nikita answered and turned to Don Viscano. She was going to take this to the extreme if necessary.

"But of course, I am a big donor." The man chest puffed out. ""This is the reason for prayer, my daughters, the purpose of this spiritual matrimony, the birth always of good works, of good works."

"Saint Teresa of Jesus." Nikita answered, the man nodded his head in approval. "Well, then I am not to present the theories or principles of Carmelite spirituality or the theology of the Church on the role of lay persons to you. Instead…I am sure you also know this quote. "…[T]he most urgent pastoral problem of our times: to teach our people to pray."

"Of course, from one of my favorite synopsizes of spirituality. Truman Dicken's 'The Crucible of Love.' The man answered as suddenly Nikita had gone from threatening to interesting.

"One of my favorite books also," and turning to Michael "Dicken was an Anglican priest and his book was not just a theoretical dissertation on the spiritual life…" Nikita said.

Don Viscano interrupted. "You know Paul, you have a great girl here. I wish Carol shared my love for my Rule of Life."

"Don Viscano." Nikita said. "Just because someone does not live the distinct style of the Teresian Carmelite charism, it does not mean that they don't share the ecclesial committed life." Nikita thought 'the nerve of some people, Mafiosos with a religious conscience.'

"You know my dear. I think that you would be a waste as a nun. The vocation of the nuns is contemplative, monastic and cloistered." Don Viscano said. "Perhaps you could serve better in the vocation of the secular, for it is contemplative, lay and apostolic

"But it is necessary to distinguish well between contemplation and cloister…" Nikita said and Michael interrupted.

"Nikita, you and Don Viscano can speak of this after dinner." He said coming to Nikita's rescue.

"I am sorry I do get carried away." Don Viscano said, patting Nikita's hand, for he was sitting to her right. "And so does your sister Michael." And turning to Nikita "You know just as you did in Australia, I used to visit the Carmelite Abbey in New Jersey when I was a boy."

"Is this where you were born, Don Viscano?" Madeline interjected, and the conversation went on from there.

When Michael's intense green eyes called to Nikita, she looked up. Her blue eyes displaying a bit of anger towards him. Silently she communicated that she wanted to speak as soon as possible. His wife was pregnant, she trusted him, she had told him that much, but he was going to be a father…she knew it was over for them, even before it started.

----

The night was coming to an end. The whirlwind evening had been a success for all those present. Don Viscano had come away feeling relaxed that the Australian beauty was not going to interfere with his daughter's marriage. The Wolfe/Jones could rest assured that the blonde woman was going to cooperate. Michael was the only one that worried, Nikita's body language had spoken to him all night and he was sure it was not good.

Because of the torrential rain that had started with the dinner party and had yet to let up, everyone including Don Viscano had to remain at the Samuelle mansion. An extremely elaborate ruse by Michael and Carol, who were not sleeping together, was concocted so that as Michael put it "No one should know what is going on."

Paul was telling his wife, while they lay in one of the many guest bedrooms, that they were in a difficult situation. "You know Madeline, I still want to see that son of a bitch Viscano and all the hurt that entails his existence eradicated from the face of the earth. You can't imagine how I feel when I look at his face and think of my poor Simone…" The hard man was crying and Madeline said.

"Paul, the end is really close, Michael…" Madeline was interrupted by Paul incorporating himself on the bed.

"I know Michael is on the job – can you believe he has made her pregnant…he has a cast iron stomach…and now we have to make him fall for Nikita…" Paul said.

"I worry…I wonder if he has fallen in love with the Viscano girl. And I don't think anyone is as good an actress as Nikita's portrayal tonight…do you think she really wanted to be a nun?" Madeline wondered.

"Who the hell cares Madeline? Your son has the vast majority of the stock in SAM, he is not going to go gentle into that good night…" Paul and Madeline continued talking.

----

In another room, another couple discussed the evening's occurrences. "Walter do you think that baby is Michael's? Adrian asked her husband as he spooned with his wife.

"Hell if I know. I can't believe that Michael who was balking at the wedding would get her pregnant so fast." Walter said.

"That may be why…like that he has 9 months of not having to have relations with the woman." Adrian quipped.

"She probably forced him – maybe she drugged him, that is it…he must have been drunk." Walter added.

---

Nikita who had wanted to leave before the night had started was settling down in a bed she considered too close to Michael's room. The vivid image of the man kissing his pregnant wife would not leave her mind; she was sobbing quietly at the miserable state of affairs. "Shit, I should have stayed in Australia, where I belong."

"I would have come looking for your there…" Michael who was coming through the French doors of her bedroom said.

Nikita jumped when she heard his voice. He walked in wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants, no shirt and an opened silk black robe. She smiled in spite of herself.

"You startled me. Go away Michael, you are married and are expecting a baby." She said.

He strutted towards her, she was sitting on the bed wearing a slip and she pulled a pillow to cover her body. "Am not." He said as he knelt in front of her, playing with her hands.

"Are too." She said pulling her hands back to hold the pillow again.

"Some guy named Jurgen is the father." He whispered. "I never had to sleep with her." He smiled and mouthed 'Yeah!'

"Really?" She asked him.

"Really." He said mocking her and laughing. "Now, can you let me love you before you go to the Abbey?"

"Under the same roof as your wife and father-in-law?" She asked giggling.

"Don't forget the others." He kissed her softly.

"Are we safe?" She asked pulling the robe off his shoulders.

"Are you a screamer?" He said joking letting the robe fall to the floor and slipping the straps off her shoulders.

"I really was going to be a nun you know." She said as he dexterously removed her slip revealing her alabaster skin. "This is why I didn't become a nun."

Sighing he said. "You are beautiful my Kita."

////

"Relax and let me love you." Michael said taking the pillow she had been holding and placing it on the floor before her. She sat in a pool of silk slip, her torso exposed, he let out a gasp at her beauty.

"Michael I do find this a bit…I don't know..." She whispered, holding his face and kissing him.

He smiled a sad smile. "As much as it hurts, I'll walk away if you don't want this."

"No, on the contrary…I was looking for the word torrid." She said smiling a bit. "I have waited for you, inflamed with need for so long now…and here, under the sleeping eyes of your family, I don't know…" She smiled wickedly. "It is hot."

He placed his head on her lap, his eyes closing for a moment. "Do you believe in destiny?"

"Hmm." She answered stroking his silky hair. What a contrast, such a conflicted hard individual with such soft luxurious mane.

"I believe that you were brought here for a reason. A reason that I selfishly direct towards me." Picking up his head and starting to fuss with the rest of her slip. "I needed you to keep my sanity. I needed you as my partner…" then looking up, "not only here in bed, but in life…I wish I could marry you and run away…"

She was now naked; he kissed her lap and stood removing the silk pajama bottoms. Nikita let out a gasp for in front of her stood a man whose perfection was repeated only in art books. Perfection all but for a small scar on his thigh, she reached and stroked if, moving forward to kiss it.

"A bullet in Algiers two years ago." He said reaching down and picking her up, her arms grasping his neck and his tongue seeking entrance to her warm mouth. "Let's take a bath."

"Hmm" she had chosen to listen, suspected Michael never talked that much because he had no one to listen to him.

"I, my beautiful Kita, am a complicated man." Michael placed her on the soft carpet on the bathroom floor, he moved about as she rested on her side, elbow holding her head; he was filling her in on every minute detail of his complex reality. "See, I bought lavender soap…to remind me of you."

He had taken a box from a cabinet under the sink containing all kinds of goodies, and now he showed them to her. "This is my private stash, no one knows it is here. I come here to remember you, your scent always so clean, intoxicating." He rolled a couple of huge towels from the linen closet and placed them under her head, as well as kissing her mouth for a passion filled second.

He turned on the water; the right temperature and the enormous tub started filling with water. Moving around the room like a man on a mission and she dreamily watched him strut. He put fizzy tablets in the water, bubbles that smelt of lavender and raised high. Lit candles, turned lights off, disappeared and came back into the room carrying rose petals from the nightstand arrangement.

He opened a closet in the enormous bathroom and she saw a little room. "Here let me show you." Going into the room.

She followed like if he was a magnet and saw a wooden sauna/steam room to her right and a massage table and deep stainless steel whirlpool to her left, in front another door. "Michael?" She called because she couldn't see him. He appeared from behind the third door.

"Come see my exercise room." He told her.

She worried "Michael they'll come…"

"No your room has the only entrance. This is where I sleep Nikita, why do you think you were placed in this bedroom?" He asked and she lifted her naked shoulders.

"I told them to put you there. I sleep on that bed every night. Now I can think about you." He smiled moving towards her, their perfect nude bodies reflected on the mirrors that lined the perimeter of the huge room. There was all kinds of exercise equipment.

"Do you use all of these?" She asked moving around, touching the shiny objects.

He smiled, moved close and kissed her hard. Their entwined bodies reflected on the glass, aphrodisiac images of perfect bodies assuming some carnal stance. She moved her hand down to his erect member and squeezed, then letting her soft hand caress the hardness of him.

"Come, the water…" He said, skipping a breath or two.

"Let me massage you first." She said, kissing him again. Her index finger playing with his bottom lip as her eyes fixed on his smoky green eyes.

He let out a sharp laugh. "Gawd Kita…leave your print everywhere here…with me…" and as they moved fingers intertwine first to turn off the water then towards the massage table she said.

"I could live here, no one would know." She said, "with you…we would sleep together every night, train, bathe." He was lying on the bed, the ridiculousness of his tremendous erection contrasting with the softness of her hands. "We could buy a hot plate, I could cook our meals."

She was massaging his pole, slavering it with aromatic oils. "Hmm…watch it, you are going to make me…" She smiled a wicked smile and swiftly added her mouth to the manipulations.

"Oh God Kita." He screamed laughing, biting his lower lip hard, the small of his back raising from the table to greet her eager mouth.

"So you are the screamer." She laughed, mouth full of Michael.

"Sound…proof." His hands fisting the sheet, the towel, the table.

She used one hand to rake his thighs. When she would come close to his sacs he would whimper. His back was spending more time off the table than on it. His control stretched to the breaking point. When she tasted the sweet nectar begin to ooze, she separated and asked him to lie on his stomach, he refused, so she mounted the table.

Straddling the man, but not entering him, she forced him to turn on his stomach. "Hmm Kita, what are you doing?" He asked, his eyes watching her through the mirrored wall.

"Massaging your back." Racking fingers down his spine, red welts appearing on her wake. "Massaging your ass." She was biting, licking and slapping softly the butt cheeks and then the scrotum. He was hovering in a fog of lust.

"Sit on your knees" She said and then amended with her movements, placing his upper body back on the table and allowing his ass to rest on his hunches. The curling of his spine allowing her to suck on his entire length vigorously, including the ridged underside that she mapped with her teeth.

Michael's moans, his softly spoken implorations in his native tongue were not heeded immediately, but eventually would get granted, much to his great relief. A particularly good spot was forsaken and Michael felt his resilient control snap.

"There." He groaned, eliciting a smile from the blonde, who was now in the process of stroking her silky blonde hair over the length and breath of his magnificent body.

"Don't get snippy with me or I'll have to spank you." She said, hitting him open-handed hard, her prints red on his hard ass.

"Again, please." He asked, he could feel his rod jumping, his knees giving, his inner thighs twitching.

A lick to the affected area, a shower of kisses, and when he didn't expect it another slap, this time he moaned. She could see his member ooze, so she took it in her hand, placed her mouth around it one more time and sucked hard, long, in out. He was begging for relief, wanted to watch her swallow.

"Not yet." The mean woman said, moving back and allowing him to move.

On top of the massage table and reflected in the collection of mirrors Nikita straddled Michael again. He looked left, she looked right, and then they both looked the same way. She bounced on him he stroked her breasts. She purposely allowed his rod to come almost completely out, just to sink completely in. She adjusted herself allowing for maximum self-satisfaction and put three fingers into his mouth, bringing his eyes to look at her, not their mirror image.

Once she was sure she had his attention, she brought her fingers to her clit, threw her head back allowing her long hair to brush his lap and rode the man whose hands were now on her waist and hips. He had taken command, hardly able to control himself, wanted to watch her cum.

Her face contorted, her fingers pulled out as if the heat of the climax scorched her, he saw total culmination, tongue and lips raked by her own teeth. Then he turned her, he was now on top, he asked her to watch as he did one handed push ups of the beauty's body.

His pole deep within her bringing both satisfaction. Now the position changed, facing each other, he sat on his knees, ass off the table and her legs on his shoulders. He took one finger, just one and pushed on her clit as his magic rod moved in a circular motion reaching every wall, in out and around. And then a cataclysmic orgasm racked the lovers; they both screamed each other's name. Michael pulled hard on her breasts, kissing the legs that were within reach, moving one more time and feeling his flag unfurl, he did it with her one more time. This time, a short job to an equally victorious finish line.

"Merde Kita. If you come live here…you are going to kill me." He laughed. "I am going to have to come up with a plan." He adjusted them both and lay on her for just a while.

///

The lovers exhausted after their workouts were now immersed in the luxury of the marble tub. Its waters filled to the brim with the painstakingly gathered treasures that Michael had collected for them. Their bodies replete with the rush of exhaling after having held their breath for much too long. Their clandestine coupling having been capped with the quick invigorating dip in the ice-cold whirlpool, its jets massaging overworked parts. The equally fast visit to the steam-room moments before exfoliating pains that would surely not surface now.

Michael's fingers idly drew circles on Nikita's supple skin. Her head rested on his strong chest and her back warmed the still wrought with emotions center of his being. He adjusted her like out of habit for their silent communion was just as important to him as their physical one. His mind racing, making plans, adjusting syms, twicking minute details that would make his endgame attainable.

Capriciously she tried to arouse him, as if her presence was not enough. He stilled her pensively and she saw through the reflection on the mirror before them his emerald green eyes drift closed. The iron mask she'd been warned about forgotten in this moment of repose and she smiled – she was sure he was hers for life.

"Penny for your thoughts." She flirted, her singsong voice suggestive.

"Hmm, don't talk, just feel." He said.

"Feel what?" She asked, adjusting her head and thus robbing him of his breath for a moment of indecent lust.

"Hmm, the silence, our communion, our love." Romancing her without consciously trying.

Nikita's heart jumped, could she be so lucky that she'd found her soul mate in the middle of this unfamiliar circumstance? Could the plight her life had been so far possibly have occurred because she was meant to be here – now? And what about her Father's contrivances and her Grandfather's entreaties; who did she owe alliance to in this bizarre game she had entered unwillingly? The answer was quite clear – herself of course and ultimately this other half of the core of her being.

He felt and then saw the miniscule change her body made. He snapped out of his reverie with his stealth intellect and asked matter of factly. "Something wrong?"

"No, why?" Her face betraying her words with the encroaching blush.

"Because…" Calmly. She interrupted, his honesty too much.

"I lied. Do you know what they are planning?" She asked nervously turning to face the man that moments before with his honor, had deprived her forever of her ability to guard a secret from him.

"Who is planning what?" He saw the realization about her truths in her perfect storm tossed eyes. A corner of his mouth slightly twitching in triumph.

"My so called Father and Grandfather." She stated as if it was obvious. "They are not happy with your majority holdings in SAM. They worry that you won't finish this revenge against Don Viscano."

"Hmm." Knowingly he said.

"They want me to seduce you into submission… I don't know, as if you didn't have a brain and were ruled by your penis (she picked it up to make a point)…" She was frustrated, if she had not been sitting on her hunches facing him, she would have paced.

He let out a belly laugh, which startled her. "What?" Confused.

"Don't you get the ridiculousness of this situation – you don't need to seduce me, you possess me Kita. My penis doesn't rule my life, my heart which you own does, but don't touch it again unless you mean to finish what you start." He laughed again.

Still worried, biting her lower lip she asked. "But I don't want you to think that I am with you to fulfill some promise…"

He interrupted, "Nah, I know that you are with me because of the sex…" He grabbed her to him and enveloped her in his strong arms, they were both shaking with mirth and an all consuming need that constantly interfered with their serious moments. "You are my weakness Kita…"

"But…" She interrupted, face buried in the crook of his neck, the water tepid against their heated bodies.

"Let me finish…and yet you are my strength." He took her face in his prunish hands. "I would never abandon my commitment to the Viscano mission, no matter what…however, as I would not let Paul or George down, I could not let my Father down Kita, by surrendering his dream – SAM was his, it is not mine to give." He kissed her passionately, maddeningly slow and added. "I knew about this, thank you for telling me. Now let's get out of here, not even our lust can reheat this water. I want to sleep wrapped up in your embrace."

"Won't they catch us, I mean you are a screamer after all." She said smiling.

"I said sleep…I'll wake early and go back to the charade." He said lifting his perfect brow.

As they stood and wrapped each other in a big plush towel she said. "Am I really your strength?"

"You Kita complete me." Michael stealing a line from 'Jerry Maguire', meant every word.

Sigh…"Michael I don't think you know that you do it…"

"That I do what?" He said busy powdering her now dry bottom with a lush puff full of expensive perfumed talc.

"Never mind…you can't help being magnetic." The lovers lay on Michael's bed spooning, their bodies one, their eyes drifting shut but Michael's mind back to the planning. He had found a way to appease his family by what Nikita had said in confessing what his family was planing. Now a plan to appease Don Viscano needed to be made so he could get his life with Nikita.