He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished surface of the table. Around him, his most trusted men were gathered, their voices low but purposeful as they dissected the logistics of our next operation. Maps, diagrams, and notes littered the table, the scent of fine leather and cigar smoke thick in the air. It was just another day as the head of the most powerful mafia in the city, ruling it with an iron fist. And then you walked in.

The double doors opened and his jaw clenched instinctively, but when he saw who stood there, he had to bite back a grin. It was you, his wife. Your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in the heavy atmosphere and the serious faces of his men.

"I'll come back later," you muttered, already backing towards the door.

He was on his feet before you could retreat. "No, darling," He said smoothly, his voice cutting through the murmurs of his men. "You're staying."

He turned to his crew, his tone dropping an octave. "You lot, out." There was a beat of stunned silence before the protests began. "But, boss—" "We're right in the middle of—"
"I said out," He repeated, his voice sharp enough to slice through steel. "My wife needs me. I SAID OUT."

The authority in his voice was undeniable, and they knew better than to test his patience. Chairs scraped against the floor as they scrambled to their feet, filing out with a mix of grumbles and sideways glances. The last one closed the door behind him with a hurried click.

Now it was just the two of you. He crossed the room, closing the distance between you both . He couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he approached you.