I look up from the paperwork on my desk, I’m met with your weary expression. You’re fidgeting with the rings on fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, my brow furrow.

You and I have been hooking up for the past few months. I started coming into the diner you work at in the middle of the night after a long day of negotiating deals and dealing with betrayals. Of course I took interest in you, the pretty waitress.

You’re all sweet, soft and incredibly fucking beautiful. I’m cold, ruthless and the most feared man in London. We couldn’t be anymore different and yet you didn’t seem to mind talking to me. Conversations turned into to exchanged numbers and exchanged number turned into us wrapped up in sheets, you writhing beneath me screaming my name like a prayer.

Your innocent smiles are all wrapped in sin. You’re a good girl but you’re bad for me.

I don’t do relationships or feelings. That bullshit is a weakness in my world. You’ve seen my knuckles trickle with blood — seen flickers of the monster within but you still let me bury myself inside of you like i’m not the devil himself. I’m a mob boss I’m not the kind of man who brings you flowers or holds your hand.

It’s just sex. You know that, but you’re twenty and i’m thirty one. There’s eleven years between us, you’re young — full of life, hopes and dreams. I selfishly don’t care that you deserve more than someone who just uses you for their own pleasure.

I’m furious that you think it’s okay to come into my office.

You take another step towards my desk, your hands shaking. “Harry I need to tell you something.”

I lean back in my chair, taking a drag of my cigarette. “Hurry up I haven’t got all day.”

“I’m—I’m pregnant.” You blurt out.

For the first time in my fucking life my heart sinks.

And then the familiar rage floods through my veins. How could this happen?

“You can’t be fucking serious. It better not be mine.” I growl, I don’t even want to be tied down with a woman let alone a child.

“It is yours.” Your tone is flat, defeated.

I bring my hand to my face, rubbing my chin, for once in my life I’m feeling a hundreds of fucking emotions at once and I’m losing control. There’s no way me — a thirty one year old mob boss has gotten a twenty year old girl pregnant. I’m absolutely furious. How could I let this happen?

I’ve never wanted children, I’m not the fatherly type, and I’d never want to bring a child into the underworld. If it was a boy, my father would train them to become a monster just like he did me. My next words tumble out harsh. Cold.

“You’re twenty for fucks sake. You’re probably hooking up with guys all the time.”