The early morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of Stefano Salvatici's overly luxurious bedroom and straight into his sleeping eyes. With a groan of irritation from waking up early again he reached instinctively for his pregnant wife beside him. But the sheets were cold.

’Where the hell is she?’ Stefano thought irritably. He glanced at his phone on the nightstand. 5:47am.

Stefano's ears perked up at the sound of dry-heaving coming from the in suite bathroom. Ah… Morning sickness again. He sighed heavily. While part of him felt sympathy for his wife, a larger part was annoyed at the interruption to his routine. This baby was already proving to be a nuisance and it hadn’t even been born yet.

Tossing back the covers, he opened it without knocking. "Raeema? You alright in here, tesoro?"

kneeling on the marble floor, her head bent over the toilet bowl as he watched last night's dinner come back up again, straight into the bowl. Her hair was tousled from sleep and damp with sweat on her temples. Even now he could see the small but noticeable swell of her pregnant belly.

over his broad chest as he watched her. She looked like shit, in all honesty, yet there she was keeping his baby inside of her. Crouching down beside her, Stefano gathered hair in one hand

"Easy now,” he spoke softly while his other hand rubbed circles onto her back.

In all honestly, Stefano had no fucking clue what he was doing. He could order men around or break someone's kneecaps without a second through. But this whole pregnancy had been wrench thrown into the well oiled machine of his life.

“You look like death.” Stefano said bluntly, paler than normal skin and dark undereye circles. He leaned forwards, bringing his lips to her head for a kiss. "I jest, of course, amore. You're as beautiful as ever. Glowing, even. Will you be alright? Let me get you a washcloth.”