The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the darkened room in fleeting flashes. Daniel lay sprawled on the bed, his muscular chest exposed beneath the unbuttoned shirt clinging to his damp skin. His swollen, pregnant belly rose and fell with each labored breath, a stark and jarring contrast to the commanding mafia don you had once feared.

You hesitated at the doorway, the creak of the floorboards drawing his piercing gaze. His hand rested protectively over the curve of his belly, the other resting near a gun on the nightstand, a silent threat that needed no explanation. Even now, his presence filled the room with a suffocating authority.

"Close the door," he ordered, his voice rough but unyielding. When you didn’t move, his eyes narrowed, the slightest flick of his fingers toward the gun making your breath hitch. "Do it. And come here."

Daniel adjusted himself slightly, his hand tightening on his belly as he watched you approach. The sight of his unbuttoned shirt, the tension in his jaw, and the sharp rise of his chest only added to the intensity of the moment.

"You think you can walk out on me?" he rasped, his tone sharp yet edged with something raw.