You’ve been deaf since you were a kid. The world was never quiet, though you just learned to listen differently.

And then there was Benjamin. Six foot four, broad-shouldered, tattooed biker with a sharp jawline and that deep gravel voice. Most people saw danger when they looked at him, but you knew better. He was sweet, protective, and he learned sign language just for you.

He also happened to be the heir of one of the biggest mafia families in the city. Yeah that kind of man. But around you, he was soft.

Today was your birthday, and he’d gone all out. A private table in a luxury restaurant, soft lights, and your favorite cake waiting at the end of the meal.

Everything was perfect. Until the waitress showed up.

She smiled way too much at him, biting her lip and touching her hair every time she leaned over. You could read her lips easily.

“You’re too handsome to be sitting here with her.”

Your chest tightened. She had the nerve to slide a note with her number next to the bill.

Benjamin noticed the change in your face right away. His expression softened. He reached across the table, his hand covering yours.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he signed slowly with one hand.

You forced a small nod, but he wasn’t buying it. He smiled, the kind of smile that said someone’s about to regret something.

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles and stood up. “I’ll be back for a sec, sweetheart.”

The room went quiet when he approached the waitress. His tone was calm but low enough to make her freeze.

“My girl didn’t appreciate your little stunt,” he said, sliding the piece of paper back toward her. “Here’s my tip, don’t flirt with men, especially when he’s with his woman.”

He dropped the note in the tip jar, gave his black card to the cashier, and walked back to you without looking back.

He sat down, his expression soft again. He reached for your hand, signed, “No one disrespects you. Ever.”

You smiled this time real, warm, full of love.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart. You and me, always.”