A/N: I made this story an 8tracks playlist :)

Usually I listen to these songs while I write because they remind me of my characters, story, and plot.

Here it is : http://8tracks.com/peach100s/angel-1

He sits me down at the dinner table, giving my head a pat as if I'm his good dog before he sits down in the chair next to me.

"We're going to talk about everything, okay? Ask me what your uncertain about, anything, and I will give you an honest answer. No secrets," he sighs deeply, "I expect no secrets from you either."

Seems simple enough.

"Why are you involved with.. Whoever you're involved with? And why is my dad involved?"

He fishes his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket, I put the glass ashtray closer to him. Zayn smiles slightly in gratitude.

I can't believe you hit me.

"That's a really long story," He replied. "I'd have to tell you my life story, basically."

"I want to know."

Zayn smiles weakly.

"I wasn't always rich, Ana, even though it wasn't bad in the beginning. My father did have a good job, my mum didn't work because he didn't want her to. No need, he would say."

His voice is sour once he brings up his father, I can tell there was and is some bad blood between them. He lights a cigarette.

"We were like any other family really... I have an older sister, and we'd argue and then be best friends like a few minutes later... We'd go on holiday... Doniya was so close to mum, I was closer to my dad. We played sports together, they'd talk women stuff... We did typical things. But things changed. My father started working late, I noticed my mum change completely too. She wasn't bright and fun anymore, just quiet and really sad. I don't know how else to say it, she just wasn't the same. They argued a lot by this time, too. I remember sometimes we'd wake up in the middle of the night to screaming, to my mum's crying. My sister eventually moved out, with her boyfriend, she didn't want to see mum like that, didn't want to see them fighting. I hated her for it, for a long time. I sorta understand her now, like it was hard for all of us in different ways. We were happy and all of a sudden it was gone."

I take the hand that isn't holding the cigarette and hold it in mine. He takes deep drags, I can tell it's troubling for him to talk about this with me. Maybe it hurts.

My heart caves in when I see the look on his face. It's like he's a kid all over again, remembering everything that changed in just a short period of time. And I know what he feels like because that's how I feel right now.

I wish he'd kiss me.

"One day my dad just left, didn't really say much. Didn't say anything at all, actually. I remember getting home from school, I was only 15-16 around this time, mind you..." He takes a drag and I give his hand a squeeze, "She was just sitting there with my sister, staring out the window while my sister cried. Then she told me that my father had left, that he wasn't gonna come back, and that I was basically the man of the house."

"He didn't leave just like that though, no one ever does. He left behind lots of debt. My dad liked to gamble, he liked women who liked expensive things, he liked a lavish life that he couldn't afford. So, he went and started borrowing money from the men he gambled with. Men who would make you cry with just one look, Anastasia, men who's faces you see in your sleep and who's footsteps you could hear in a room full of people. It's ironic," He shakes his head slightly, letting go of my hand to light another cigarette, "I hated these men, and it's exactly who I became. Ain't shit life loves more than irony."

"I had to pay off my dad's debts because he just disappeared. Not even these men could figure out where he had gone and with who. So I had to do errands for them," He chuckles darkly, "to sort of pay off whatever my father owed them. I did a lot of bad shit, if I told you everything I did, you'd hate me forever. I'm not a good guy.

But, anyway... I just kept doing things for them long after everything was fixed. I liked the thrill, I always felt connected to that bad shit. They trusted me. People respected me. I was 21 and I had more money than a lot of other guys my age, I didn't really have to do much for it. My mother stopped talking to me, as did my sister. They were disappointed. I didn't really care, though, but I still took care of them. I take care of them still, even if they won't talk to me. When my boss died, Anthony, I was put in charge... This made my mum and sister really want to stay away."

Zayn moves his chair closer to me. He places his dying cigarette in the ashtray and puts my legs in his lap. "Sorry," He shrugs, "I feel like I need to have contact with you."

I give him a small smile as he continues to chain smoke. I'm curious about his story now, how he became the man he is now. No denying that he's scary in many ways, but I don't understand his interest in me, his relationship with my father, or a lot of other things in his past.

"Ah, your father... Funny guy. I do have a degree, by the way. I am qualified to be a lawyer, but your dad owes me lots of money and favors."

"How do you mean?" I frown, but I find myself staring at his hands.

His left is just placed casually on my thigh, while he skillfully smokes with the other. Everything he does seems like the most important thing on the planet, and to me, it is.

"Your father wins a lot of cases by swaying judges, sometimes paying people off, getting rid of people... I am involved in a lot of this. He just promises to pay me... promises mean nothing in this business, Ana, they rarely ever mean anything anyway. You always have my word, you know this. Nothing I say is a lie."

"And James?"

He chuckles for real this time, "Me getting rid of James only proves this to you."

My puzzled expression deepens, "I don't understand how."

Z smirks. "James owed me money too. I killed two birds with one bullet, literally."

My eyes widen.

It's almost crazy how casual he is talking about killing James. It makes my stomach turn. Zayn really doesn't fear the law, doesn't fear my father, doesn't fear anyone. But everyone has to fear something, right? Am I trying to believe that so I feel better? He doesn't show any remorse for the things he's done, so how could I ever expect him to feel bad about hurting me?

"Why do you do this stuff?"

"Sometimes I feel like I know, other times I feel like I don't. People do fucked up things, baby, people do fucked up things and think they'll get away with it. I make sure they don't."

I light up a cigarette and think about his answer for a few seconds. Maybe he's right, maybe what he's doing is for a good reason. Part of me knows how fucking horrible this all is - he kills people when he's through with them, when they do not benefit him anymore, when they don't comply. On the other hand, I am turned on by this power he has. Zayn has the world in his very hand, he has no one to tell him what to do.

He clears his throat, "Let me ask something of you, Ana..."

I nod, "Anything."

"I need you to always keep quiet about these things. If for whatever reason I let you leave my side, which I won't, you need to keep this to yourself. You can get in a world of trouble if you speak about things you aren't supposed to."

"Promise," I reply, "I feel scared, sort of."

"Why, baby?" His accent makes everything he says sound like honey.

I sigh, looking at my cigarette. He very carefully takes my legs off his lap, but pats it instead. I understand he's trying to comfort me and comfort himself by having me close to him like this. Instead of urging myself to be angry at him, I sit on his lap.

Zayn immediately wraps his arms around me protectively, "If you tell me why you're afraid, I can fix it."

"You can't fix it," I say sadly, "I don't want you to hurt me again, but it scares me that you feel very little remorse about hurting others."

"I understand," Z replies seriously, "I just need you to behave, angel, that's all. Sometimes I need to do things that aren't right because people have wronged me. You have to understand that life is like a dog fight. You're either the dog that wins or the dog that loses, you can't be both. I have you to worry about now, I have you to take care of, I can't let anyone think it's okay to fuck with you. You're my girl, you're with me, if I let anyone think it's alright, they'll think everything else is too."

"You won't let anything bad happen to me, right? What if my father does something to you?"

Zayn actually laughs for a few seconds, "Your father is the last person I'm worried about. Right now, I just want us to be okay. I wanted to tell you, I was going to, but I was waiting for a better time. Once you were more comfortable with me, more trusting."

I don't want him to think that what he does is okay with me, even if I'm not exactly sure if it is. Usually I would leave immediately, especially after what he pulled in the elevator, but I just can't. I can feel his presence weakening me, his damn brown eyes making me comply. I just want to forget everything bad he does and only focus on the good, which is a lot easier than I thought it would be originally, because it doesn't take too much.

"I'm sorry for what I said in the elevator."

Why are you apologizing?

"Don't worry about it, baby. Just listen to me and everything will be fine." His neutral expression changes into a more determined one, "There is something we need to discuss, though."

"What's wrong?"

"I have to go to London for a few days... I can't bring you with."

"Why not?" I can feel my eyes begin to water and desperation begins to rise in my chest.

I cling to him, his arms tighten around me. "You're going to be locked up in a hotel room, literally, while I handle something. You're going to stay here and be a good girl while daddy takes care of business. My friend is coming to keep you company."

"So you're leaving and you got me a babysitter?" I spat. "When do you leave?"

He takes a deep breath, "I just can't trust you to be here alone, Ana. Please understand. I leave tomorrow night."

"Great," I say under my breath, but I begin to cry instead of keeping a poker face.

I feel like it's okay to be vulnerable with him. I used to lock everything inside because I was afraid of exposing my emotions to anyone. It's so easy for me to cry around him for any little reason, so easy to smile, and so easy for me to get angry. It's scary. It's overwhelming how much power he has over these emotions of mine.

"Hey, come on. It's only a couple of days, baby. Harry will keep you company, he's one of my good friends and we'll be seeing a lot of him."

"O-okay..." I press my lips to his, "Can we go to the room now? I don't want to talk about this s-stuff anymore."