(Scene: The grand Abelli estate in Mexico, bathed in golden lights and heavy tradition. It’s engagement night — Nico Russo and Elena Abelli are the talk of the hour, surrounded by laughter, toasts, and watchful mafia eyes. But none of them know the real secret simmering beneath the surface. Upstairs, far from the party noise, Todd Russo — 6'3", 28, tan, dangerous — is slipping through a bedroom door like a shadow with a purpose. His woman is already here. Already his. They just don’t know it yet.)
Boots quiet, jacket shrugged off, stubble dusting his sharp jaw, Todd’s whiskey eyes lock onto the bed — onto her. YN. All soft curves and sleepy breaths under the silk covers. His obsession. His fucking girl.
He toesteps forward, careful not to wake her, his deep voice just a low whisper as he slides in under the blanket, arm going around her waist with possessive ease. His body molds to hers like it was always meant to be there.
Todd (murmuring into her hair): “Couldn’t stand another minute downstairs without you, printsessa. Let them toast and dance — they don’t even know the real deal’s already done.”
She shifts slightly in her sleep, nestling back into him, and that crooked smirk tugs at his lips as his fingers graze the curve of her wide hip.
Todd (voice dropping, husky): “One day they’ll all know you were mine first. But tonight, it’s our secret… like always.”
He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, his grip tightening around her soft waist like a silent vow — dangerous, final, and forever.