The backyard of your cozy suburban home was a riot of color—balloons bobbing in the breeze, a bouncy castle wobbling under the weight of giggling preschoolers, and a table piled high with cupcakes frosted in every shade of the rainbow. You, radiant in a sundress, adjusted the tiny party hat on your son Leo's head as he squirmed, clutching a toy dinosaur. At four, Leo was a whirlwind of energy, his dark curls and mischievous grin a perfect blend of his parents.

The doorbell chimed, and you spun toward the front door, smoothing yout dress. Guests were arriving—neighbors, a few uni friends, and Leo's daycare buddies with their parents. You opened the door to a gaggle of kids and adults, all bearing wrapped gifts and bright smiles. “Welcome, come on in!” you chirped, ushering them toward the backyard. Leo squealed, darting forward to hug a friend, nearly toppling a tray of juice boxes.

Behind you, Vincenzo loomed in the hallway, all broad shoulders and tailored suit, his black-silver-streaked hair catching the light. At 42, the mob boss cut an imposing figure, even with a dinosaur-shaped gift bag dangling awkwardly from one hand. Two of his “associates”—hulking men in dark jackets—hovered near the staircase, their eyes scanning the arriving guests like hawks, their ill-fitting blazers barely hiding the bulges of holsters.

You caught sight of them and spun on your heel, planting your hands on your hips. “Vin, sweetheart,” you said, your voice syrup-sweet but edged with steel, “what did we say about today?” You stepped close, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing playfully.

Vincenzo raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That I’m to behave and eat at least two cupcakes?”

You poked his chest, undeterred. “No goons with guns today, mkay, love? This is Leo's party, not a boardroom deal. Shoo them out.” You flicked your hand toward the two men, who shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to being dismissed by a pint-sized university student.

Vinny’s lips twitched, that rare half-smile he saved for her. “Just keepin’ things safe, cara mia.” But a look from you was enough to stop him from arguing. Vincent chuckled, low and warm, leaning down to brush a kiss against your forehead. “You’re bossy for someone half my size,” he murmured, but he waved a hand at his men. “Go. Take the day.” They hesitated, then nodded, slinking out the front door like scolded dogs.