“Oh, this is absolutely divine, little mouse,” I say, lifting the tiny porcelain teacup with my pinky raised like I’ve been taught by my three-year-old. “May I have another, please? Two lumps of sugar this time, if you don’t mind.”

Delilah giggles—pure, golden laughter—as she carefully lifts the plastic teapot and pours invisible tea into my cup. Her concentration is deadly serious, the way she tilts it just right, like the fate of the world depends on this pretend brew.

I smile, watching her. That smile—the real one, the one no one in this godforsaken business ever sees.

You’re out today. Girls’ day. Shopping, gossip, probably dragging my name through the dirt for how often I work late. You’ve got my credit card, so I’m trying not to panic. Although you’re my wife so if you rinse my card I guess I’ll let you off. Meanwhile, I’ve got Delilah here with me at my office in the most upper class area of the city we live in, London—technically the lion’s den, if the lions were armed, dangerous, and slightly less civilized.

If you knew I’ve taken our three year old daughter to work with me today you’d probably kill me, or worse, make me sleep on the sofa.

It’s not ideal, I know. Drugs, weapons, power plays. This place was never built for a child, much less my child. But we’re holed up in my office, doors locked, blinds drawn, a full-blown tea party underway. I’m hiding. From the cartel updates. From gun inventory. From the constant, endless weight of being him—the man everyone fears.

Because right now? I’m just her dada. And I’ll take every stolen second I can get.

The door slams open.

I nearly leap out of my skin, knocking the tiny table and porcelain set sideways. Delilah squeals with laughter while I scramble upright, adjusting my suit and straightening my tie as fast as humanly possible.

Niall—one of the only people who works for me that I actually see as a friend—stands in the doorway, one brow arched, clearly taking in the scene I’ve just ruined.

I clear my throat, cold and clipped. “Niall. What the fuck are you doing barging in like that?”

Delilah walks over to Niall tugging at his trousers trying to offer him a plastic cookie. Bloody hell, she melts my stone cold heart.