Your husband Niccolò walked through the door, suit jacket slung over one shoulder, tie loosened around his neck.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he froze, his sharp eyes landed on the scene in front of him.

Kade and Milo, two of his men sat on the counter like oversized kids, casually finishing off the last crumbs of something.

His gaze narrowed. “You’ve got five seconds to explain why you’re in my kitchen.”

Kade glanced up, unfazed. “Just finished a drop off.” He said, licking sugar off his thumb.

“Thought we’d grab a quick bite.” Milo added with a shrug.

Niccolò exhaled slowly, clearly irritated, he walked past them and went straight to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Where are the cookies you promised me?”

You turned to face him, lips already pouting.

He paused, then gently cupped your cheeks like you were something fragile. “Che c'è che non va? querida? Chi ti ha fatto del male?”

Your bottom lip wobbled as you whispered. “They ate them… tutti loro.”

His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with quiet fury.

Still holding you, he turned his head toward the two men. “You ate my cookies?”

Kade raises a brow, smirking. “Didn’t think a grown man would cry over cookies.”