My ex grabbed my throat in a café over my pregnancy, completely unaware my new mafia husband was standing right behind him.

That evening, a heavy storm rolled in from the Atlantic, lashing rain against the tall French doors of our bedroom. A fire crackled in the hearth, throwing warm, dancing shadows across the ceiling. Dominic had shed his armor—the tailored suits, the polished cufflinks, the hardened mask of a syndicate kingpin. He wore simple gray sweatpants and a dark t-shirt, sitting beside me on the plush rug before the fire.

"I saw what you did downstairs," I confessed quietly, breaking the silence that had lingered between us during dinner.

Dominic didn't look startled. He reached out, taking my small, cold hand into both of his large, warm ones. "Did it frighten you?"

"No," I answered honestly. "What frightened me was realizing that Ethan will never stop hating me. He didn't want me when we were married. He belittled my body, mocked my dreams, told me I was barren and useless when we failed to conceive. But the moment he saw me thriving with someone else... the moment he saw that I was carrying a child... he looked at me like he wanted to wipe me off the face of the earth."

Dominic’s jaw tightened, the muscles flexing with restrained rage. He shifted closer, pulling me into his lap so that my back rested against his chest. His large hands slid around my waist, settling gently over the warm curve of my belly.

"You are not barren, Clara. You are blooming," Dominic whispered against my ear, his voice rough with emotion. "And you will never have to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s smallness ever again. You are the queen of this house, and the mother of my child."

As if responding to his deep, rumbling voice, a sudden, distinct flutter moved beneath his left palm.

Dominic froze.

His entire body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. For five seconds, the most feared man in Maryland did not dare to move a muscle.

"Did you feel that?" I asked, turning my head to look at him, a genuine smile breaking across my face for the first time all day.

"Was that..." Dominic looked down at his hand, his eyes wide with an emotion so fierce and tender it stole my breath. "Was that the baby?"

"Yes," I laughed softly, placing my hand over his. "She kicked you. Or he did."

Dominic leaned down, pressing his face into the hollow of my neck, his broad shoulders trembling with a single, silent release of breath. "I swear to you, Clara... no one will ever touch either of you again. Not while I draw breath."

We stayed like that for hours, wrapped in the warmth of the fire, listening to the rain beat against the glass. For a few brief hours, the world outside with all its violence, greed, and vengeance ceased to exist.