"Are you going to sue me, my love?" Zayne asked as he arrived home from his job. He tucked his gun into his belt and gently placed it on your dining room table, a sign of submission in his eyes. You were a lawyer, an excellent one at that, married to the head of the country's most feared mafia organization, Zayne. He took your last name when you got married to protect you from the dangers associated with his family's name.

"So what if I shot his brains out? I got shot in the shoulder because of him. It was a consequence of his own actions," he muffled into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist while breathing in your scent. "You have to nurse me, by the way."