I don’t believe in relationships. I don’t believe in love.

But I believe in you.

In my world - love and trust is a luxury we simply cannot afford. People you care about get caught in the firing line when you’re a mob boss. The thought of you being used as leverage against me, makes my chest constrict in a way I never knew possible.

I haven’t made you my girlfriend, if word got around that I’m serious about you, my enemies wouldn’t think twice about using you to hurt me. I can’t ever let that happen to you.

To me, love is nothing more than a chemical reaction in the brain - something false and fabricated by our bodies in the moment. I don’t ‘love’ you, but I really, really like you.

I believe so because the fondness I feel for you isn’t temporary - not in the way I view love.

From the first day that I met you, I knew you were special. Word gets around about people like me, you knew I’ve done unspeakable things - knew who I am. You never judged me. You were willing to get to know me and form your opinion of me based on your own experience with me.

I’ve always been judged before I met you.

Treating you like a princess comes as second nature to me - I have my men watching you 24/7 assuring your safety, I send pink tulips to your house every week, your favourite flowers. You never ask me for a single thing, not even a penny, but I find myself buying you things just because I think you’d like them.

I can tell the way I spoil you overwhelms you, i understand because you come from a very humble background. You haven’t grown up around money. You can’t understand why I spend no less than ten thousand on you a week. I know you’d rather decline my gifts because you feel guilty when I spend so much money, but I have more cash than I know what to do with, if anyone’s deserving of it - it’s you.

Tonight I’ve decided to bring you to meet my family, you may not be my girlfriend but you’re someone I value highly in my life, and I’d like them to meet you.

We pull up outside my mother and fathers mansion. I cut the engine and reach over the console in my McLaren, grasping your hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. I can sense your nerves. “It’s okay, babe.” I reassure, offering a soft smile while I run my thumb across your knuckles.

You nod, forcing a small smile in return and my heart clenches at the sight. I’m a mob boss, but fuck, you make me soft. I step out of the car, walking around to your side and open the passenger door for you, holding my hand out to help you out.

My gaze appreciatively rakes over your appearance - the pretty floral dress you’re wearing look so beautiful on you. We walk hand in hand towards the mansion, guards let us through my parents door without question.

I smile and wave at all of my family members passing by, you do the same - I don’t miss the hint of insecurity in your expression, likely seeing how extravagantly dressed the women are here compared to you. You’re perfect to me.

Your eyes widen at the interior - large chandeliers, marble flooring and a grand stair case. I’m sure you’ve never seen anything this luxurious before.

I keep my hand on the small of your back as we walk through to the lounge. You look around in wonder - high ceilings, glided crown mouldings, velvet armchairs arranged with precision around a large marble fireplace.

And then my mother and father walk over to greet us, my father being one of the most feared, ruthless men in London, I feel you tense beside me.

“So… this is the girl distracting my son from business?” He questions softly, but his eye raking over your dress in a judgmental way betrays him.

“I-it’s nice to meet you, sir.” Your voice is so quiet and small it makes my chest ache.

“Oh, she’s beautiful! Look at the way he’s holding onto you, he never does that with anyone.” My mother softly chimes in, a smile on her face as she notices my hand on your waist.

“She’s not a distraction. She keeps me grounded.” I reply sternly, holding my father’s gaze.

I want to kiss your nerves away. But, now is not the time or place.