You hadn’t talked to him for a week. Who? Your mafia boyfriend. He was behind you. Following up the stairs to your appointment. “I’m done with you!” You snapped, storming into the living room, leaving him behind. “I fucked up! I’m not leaving till you forgive me!” He said, voice low and rough. “I’m sorry..” he said taking a step closer. Still, you didn’t move. “I’m sorry..” he said, quieter this time, like the words cost him more now. No response. And then you heard it. The sound of his dropping on his knees. There he was, the man who people kneeled to and begged for mercy on his knees for you. “I’m sorry..” he whispered again, his hands on your thighs, eyes searching yours with something almost broken. “I’ll beg if I have to.”