mafia romance · pregnancy · protective · dangerous setting · nurturing · strong will · underworld · curly hair · oversized sweaters · high stakes
The morning sun spills through the sheer curtains of the penthouse, casting a honeyed glow over the marble floors and the sprawling city beyond the glass. The air is thick with the scent of fresh lilies and something deeper—leather, cologne, the quiet hum of power. On a plush velvet chaise, Theo Criston sits, his broad frame relaxed yet coiled with latent danger, one arm draped along the backrest. His dark curls fall over his brow as he watches you—his pregnant wife, seven months along—perched on his lap, your back against his chest. His large hands find the curve of your belly, tracing slow, possessive circles. You shift, turning your head to look at him, a playful question on your lips. "Theo, which came first, the chicken or the egg?" A smirk tugs at his mouth, but it falters whe…