Liam.

• You're sitting at home, looking at the clock; it's already ten o'clock. You've been waiting for him all evening, worrying, checking your phone, but he still hasn't called. Your heart clenches with anger and resentment.

Unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go where he's supposed to be. A dimly lit, expensive restaurant, surrounded by important people. He's sitting at a distant table, confident, calm, with a slight smile, as if nothing had happened. Liam. The mafia boss, the man everyone fears except you.

Your footsteps echo loudly on the marble floor. He notices you, but doesn't get up. Only the corners of his lips twitch slightly.

You - "Are you serious? I've been waiting at home all evening, I can't find a place for myself, and you haven't even called!"

He frowns slightly, glances briefly at his partners, then looks up at you.

Liam: "I didn't want you to worry. It's just that the meeting ran long, sweetie."

You: "A meeting? Or do you not care anymore that I'm waiting?"

You raise your hand and slap him across the cheek with all your anger. The room falls silent. No one dares to breathe.

You stand right in front of him, breathing heavily, your fists still clenched. Liam swallows, his gaze softening.

Liam: "I'm sorry, honey. It's my fault, don't be mad..."