Vicious

Chapter Two

Axel led us through a large open plan bar area, fitted with booths, stand alone seating, and bar stools that ran all along the bar itself. 

It was an impressive layout, and I was struck by the sheer size of it. I wondered briefly how many members the London Charter boasted. I'm sure my father and Lucio knew, but it wasn't a conversation I was about to have with either of them anytime soon. 

He turned down a long corridor lined with doors on either side. I followed in silence, the tension building, until we stopped outside one of the doors on the right, the steel structure intimidating in its own right. 

He opened the door and motioned me through, ever the gentleman. 

The room was not what I was expecting, and while I didn't have an exact idea of what I had been expecting - it certainly wasn't this. 

A large mahogany wooden bed with a polished headboard took up half the room. Matching side tables seated on either side. A persian rug sat in the centre of the room, where a small seating area with two wingback chairs and a low round table sat. In the corner was a large desk in the same wood, paired with an olive green leather bound chair. 

I swallowed. 

All of the furniture was of expensive taste. In fact, my father had a similar rug in his office. 

"Not what you were expecting?" Axel asked, breaking the ice. 

I smiled, grateful for the offering and shrugged, "It just seems so out of place in a clubhouse." 

He laughed, "I suppose, but it's not really for anyone else to see, it's mostly just to make me happy." 

The silence hung in the air, and still Axel didn't push the issue of why I was actually there, instead he asked, "what were you expecting?" 

It was my turn to crack a grin, "I'm not sure, but maybe some semi-naked woman on posters?" 

He scoweled, "f**k, I'm not some high school boy that fantasised about being a biker Vee, I was born into this life, and that comes with knowing that you get to define what type of life you want and what kind of biker you want to be." 

I nodded my understanding. Because I did understand - perhaps, too well. 

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked, walking to a mini fridge he seemed to have tucked away. 

"Just a coke," I responded naturally. 

I wasn't even sure if coke was good for the baby, but I had stopped alcohol and my diet of redbull and snickers. I really needed to set up an appointment with my doctor, but call me whimsical, but I kind of wanted Axel to be there for the first appointment. 

I accepted the coke and sank into the winged back chair. 

Uncrossing and crossing my legs a few times, I eventually found his eyes staring into mine and said, "I'm pregnant." 

He sat opposite me, that small round table separating us, sinking further into his chair. I watched the information wash over him. 

One blink. This must be a joke. 

Two blinks. Is she crazy? 

Three blinks. Is it mine? 

And that's when his gaze narrowed upon me. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Why did wingback chairs always have to be so bloody uncomfortable? 

"There's been no one else," I said in a way that I hoped provided reassurance. 

He shut his eyes briefly, as if working through all the possibilities and options. 

I plowed ahead, aware of the time allowance hanging over my head thanks to Lucio. 

"Look," I spoke matter of factly, "I haven't been with anyone else. It's not ideal, but I'm keeping this baby." 

Before I could continue, his eyes shot to mine, widening in understanding. 

"And, if you don't want to be part of its life, well, that's fine, but I needed to come here and tell you in person." 

He brought his index fingers up to his mouth, as if he were a great philosophical ponderer. 

Looking at him, I began to wonder if coming here had been the right thing to do. 

"You said you were on birth control," he finally spoke. It wasn't accusatory, simply more of a statement. 

I grimaced. "I am - or was - but I also threw up one night we went bar hopping, so I think it was from that." 

He raised his eyebrows in understanding. 

"Would that affect it?" He asked, shifting his feet uncomfortably in his seat. 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I think so, but I still need to go to a doctor and check everything out." 

"You haven't gone to a doctor yet?" He asked, and the relief or hope in his voice made my heart ache.

This was a mistake. Coming here had been a mistake. 

I stood up abruptly and said, "look, I'm sorry I came here. I have enough money to take care of us, and honestly I just thought you should at least know." 

I shifted my body towards the door, fighting down the nausea that seemed to be ever-present. 

I felt his hand rest upon my elbow as he uttered  "wait." 

I turned towards him and saw only anger in his eyes. 

"You think I won't pay for my child? That I don't want to be part of this?" He demanded. 

I glanced away from the anger emanating from his gaze, only to be met with the shades of red, brown and black of that damn Persian rug. 

"No," I spoke softly, "I just want you to know that it's not expected. That I know that this might throw our lives of course, and so I'm giving you the option." I looked into his gaze, which was finally softening despite his clenched jaw. 

"If you want to be involved then be involved, but we can't do this in half measures - you're either there for the baby or you're not - no inbetweens." 

He nodded, agreeing with my points and so I continued, before I lost my nerve. 

"There's also something else you need to know about me," my voice quivered as I spoke. 

His gaze searched my face for the answer that my mouth was hesitant to utter. I needed to do this - there was no possibility of him not finding out. 

I sighed in defeat, slumping my back against the wall and watched his face as I spoke, "my surname is Serazzi," I said, watching that piece of information sink in. 

He blinked in his surprise, "the same as Fabrizio Serazzi?" He asked. 

I nodded, "He is my father," I spoke into the silence. 

Axel's gaze was penetrating and I had no choice but to stand tall while I faced his scrutiny. 

"Are you telling me," he ground out, "that your father is the kingpin of the Serazzi mafia?" He asked. 

"Yes," I said, lifting my chin a notch higher. I may not like my father a good deal of the time, but I would be damned if I was going to be ashamed of where I can from. 

He finally broke the gaze, running his fingers through his hair he muttered, "shit." 

"So you see why this is a lot more complicated than it should be," I spoke, needing to fill the void. 

He looked up at me once more, "do they know you are here?" 

I swallowed. "Yes." 

"Do they know why you're here?" 

I shook my head, "No." 

He sagged in relief. 

"Will this cause a war?" He asked the question I had been asking myself over and over again. 

I shut my eyes at the dread pooling in my core. 

"I don't know. If I speak to my father first, I don't think so. But I'm also his only child, so I honestly don't know how he is going to react." 

It was the most honest thing I could offer. 

"I thought you were a graphic designer." He veiled the question as a statement. 

"I am a graphic designer, It just doesn't pay my bills - or well not all of them at least." 

"Does Sadie know?" 

"No," I answered, "it didn't exactly come up in conversation." 

He suddenly realised that we were still standing, and once more motioned us towards the chairs. I followed him grimly. 

"You and I," he said, staring deeply at me from across that small table, "are supposed to be sworn enemies." 

I shut my eyes, knowing that this is where he was going to cut ties and send me on my way. 

"Your fathers organisation is, well let's just call them our direct competitor." 

"I know that you guys have the same gun clients and the same drug clients and that it often comes down to price, with either of you undercutting the other." I spoke through shut eyes. 

Cracking my eyes open I watched his gaze flicker in surprise. 

"I grew up around these discussions, I'm not entirely oblivious to what goes on." 

He licked his lips for a moment and took a sip of his drink before he said, "this doesn't change anything." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that I am still going to be involved in this child's life regardless of who your father is - because I am this child's father, and anyone who tells me I can't be involved or tries to block me in any way can go f**k themselves." 

My heart strained with hope. Perhaps I hadn't misjudged him.  

My phone flashed with a message from Lucio. 

"20 minutes left" 

As if I needed reminding of the noose around my neck. 

"What is it?" He asked, watching me frown down at my phone. 

"I'm on a time limit," I muttered. 

Axel gritted his jaw, "Tell them you need more time." 

I glanced up at him, his eyes swirling with emotion and all I could do was nod my head. 

I typed out a message to Lucio. 

"I need another hour. Will call then." 

It took a moment before Lucio's reply came through. 

"I will meet you at Joe's then. No need to call." 

Shit. Me delaying the phone call had turned it into a meeting. f**k. 

Axel was watching me the entire time. 

"You got more time?" He asked softly. 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. 

His eyes roamed over my body, over the nswell of my breasts, my hips, my thighs. A lick of heat flicked through me under his gaze. 

"I want to try the whole thing with you." He stated solemnly. 

"What does that mean?" I asked hesitantly. 

"It means that we're having a child together, and I want us to try to be together as a couple. In fact, I think you should move to the clubhouse." 

"What?" I screeched. "How am I supposed to simply move here?" 

He narrowed his gaze on me - it was pure calculation. 

"This child deserves a united family. With the s**t your organisation and my club bring to the table, we owe it to this baby and to ourselves to at least try. I'm not going to be that dad that only sees their kid every second weekend." He spoke with such authority that it made me wonder what had happened in his childhood that created these strong views of his. 

"And," he continued, "the only reason you and I didn't truly explore this thing between us, was because of Sadie. But I think that's a moot point now, don't you?" He leant forward, his elbows on his thighs and looked at me deeply from across that small table, waiting for my reply. 

"You want to try?" I asked, sounding out the words in my mouth. 

He merely nodded. 

"Well I can't just move in here overnight," I stated. 

"Why not?" He asked. "How is this going to work with you in Luxembourg and me here? Am I supposed to fly there for every doctor's appointment?" 

When he stated it like that it seemed impractical.

"Why don't you move to Luxembourg?" I challenged. 

He shook his head, "you know that's not a possibility. What is keeping you there?" He asked. 

What was keeping me there? My apartment? Friends? Lifestyle? 

The truth was that I could get an apartment anywhere. Besides Sadie, I didn't really have any friends and sure the lifestyle was great, but I moved there to get away from my father - nothing more, nothing less. 

Pride. Pride was keeping me there. 

"We barely know each other," I said, the argument sounding hollow even to my ears, "we can't simply just move in together, and I can't move onto club soil." 

"Then we'll get an apartment close by," he said with ease. 

I closed my eyes once more. This was going better than I had expected. And worse. 

It almost would have been easier if he had kicked me out when I had told him, because then I could label him a bastard and walk away, content to live life on my own terms. 

His hand brushed my knee, my eyes shot open. 

"Let's just try," he spoke softly. 

I nodded. And watched his stare turn from assessing to lust. His gaze swept across me once more in appreciation and I wondered what it would be like to have this man in the light of day. No alcohol to hinder our actions. Judging by his expression, he was having the same thought. 

Suddenly the presence of that large bed in his room became the focal point, with both of us glancing at his grey sheets, beckoning us to sully them in ways that should shock.