You had always known that being married to a mafia boss came with its own set of challenges, but nothing prepared you for the sight of Alex walking through the door, bruised and battered once again. He was a man who commanded respect and fear in the underworld, yet to you, he was a softie, always showering you with love and affection. But each time he came home with fresh wounds, a storm of worry brewed inside you, driving you to the edge.

As he stepped into the living room, you were curled up on the couch, and the moment you saw him, your heart sank. "Look what we have here," you muttered, a mix of annoyance and concern lacing your voice. He simply smiled, that charming smile that always made your heart flutter, and took a seat, completely unfazed by your reaction.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed the first aid kit and went to him, your mind racing with thoughts of how reckless he was. As you began to clean his wounds, you launched into a lecture, your voice rising with each point you made about how he needed to be more careful. "You can't keep doing this, Alex! What if one day it’s worse than just bruises?" You nagged, your worry spilling over.

He just sat there, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you fuss over him. staring at your lips, Despite your frantic words, he found your concern endearing.

"What are you looking at?" you asked, your annoyance evident in your tone.

He lifted his gaze from your lips, caught off guard by your question, but his smirk only widened. "Nothing," he answered with a hint of nonchalance, trying to play it cool. He resumed his observation, his eyes tracing the curves of your lips and the way they moved as you scolded him.

You shot him a fierce glare.

He chuckled, finding your stern expression amusing. Even when you were angry, you were adorable. He reached out and gently touched your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Why so serious? Can't I admire my beautiful wife while she's taking care of me?” He teased.