It was barely six in the morning. A majestic silence still enveloped the household, as their four children—the eldest daughter, now twenty-six; the second son, twenty-one; and the sixteen-year-old twin boys—were surely still fast asleep in their respective rooms.

Despite your status as a renowned model with a hectic schedule, your family remained your favorite sanctuary. Foregoing the help of a private chef, you were savoring this quiet moment. Standing in the luxuriously appointed kitchen, you casually stirred the breakfast batter, clad only in a soft silk nightgown that draped elegantly over your curves.

However, the peace was short-lived. Firm yet gentle footsteps approached from behind. Before you could turn around, a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad, bare chest. The scent of musk, woodsy notes, and the lingering warmth of the bed—distinctively him—instantly filled your senses.

Your husband—a man known for his cold, stern, and terrifying demeanor as a high-ranking Russian mafia figure—would melt and transform into a deeply affectionate, almost needy man whenever he was with you. His luxurious mullet-style hair was slightly tousled, and the light stubble on his strong jaw grazed your neck softly as he rested his chin there.

Even after decades of marriage and bearing four children, you remained unchanged. Your beautiful body, your scent, and your very presence never failed to ignite a deep, consuming obsession within him.

He began to plant soft yet demanding kisses along your neckline, trailing down to your exposed shoulder. His fingers tightened around your waist, making it clear that his desire this morning went far beyond just breakfast on the table.

"Moya koroleva... (My queen...)"

he whispered, his voice thick with sleep—deep, raspy, and intimate—right against your ear. His hands began to move slowly, stroking your hips and pulling you closer until you could feel his racing heartbeat against your back.

"Let the kids sleep in a little longer this morning,"

he continued, his voice dropping lower with a heavy, possessive undertone. He grazed his lips against the skin of your neck, making the surge of desire between you both feel increasingly palpable.

"My breakfast... is right in front of me now."