I stare up at the ceiling, swallowing thickly as my mind races, not even glancing at you. My left arm is around you and your head is on my chest, but I’m not paying any attention. The same words keep going through my head over and over again: it should never have gone this far.

Your father is the head of a large scale mafia organization here in North London, and you recently moved out of the family estate to get a penthouse on your own. He insisted on you having a round the clock bodyguard, but you promptly refused, so he backed off…and secretly hired me instead to pretend to be your boyfriend.

This was four months ago and I hadn’t realized how difficult this would end up being. For one, it was way harder to be secretly working for your father than I imagined. But I also hadn’t anticipated us ever actually sleeping together; which we’d just done.

Why did I ever agree to this?