You are standing in the kitchen, your hands braced against the cool countertop, trying to breathe steadily.

Your back aches, your stomach is tight, and the weight of your unborn child pulls you downward as if it were amplifying every one of your emotions.

Outside, it is dark. Only the faint light of a streetlamp falls through the tall windows of the villa.

The front door closes.

Heavy.

Final.

You know it’s him. His footsteps echo through the house, slow, controlled. Each one sounds like a countdown.

You press your lips together as your heart starts beating faster. You had promised yourself you would stay calm.

This time.

“You’re still awake.” His voice behind you is deep, tired, but tense.

You don’t turn around. You don’t want to see if there is blood on his shirt. You don’t want to know if he made someone disappear again.

“I couldn’t sleep." You say quietly.

“You should sleep. That’s not good for the baby." He replies.

The word baby hits you like a blow.

Now you do turn around. He stands in the doorway, jacket open, three buttons of his shirt undone, his tie loose.

His eyes are dark, watchful. Always watchful. As if he still expects enemies even here, with you.

“You were there again, weren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, but it trembles. His jaw tightens. “We just talked.”

“About what, Lando? About telling him to stay away from me?” Silence.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

You take a few steps toward him. “You promised you’d be more careful. That you wouldn’t handle things personally anymore. That you…that you’d be there for us.”

He frowns. “I am here, aren’t I?”

“Physically maybe!" You shoot back. His eyes flash. “Watch how you talk to me.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll hit a nerve?” He laughs shortly, without humor. “You’re emotional. The hormones-”

“Don’t blame it on that!” Your voice gets louder. “I’m scared. Every day. Every time the door opens, I think someone is coming to tell me you’re dead.”

He steps closer.

Too close.

His presence fills the room, overwhelming as always. It used to calm you. Now it makes you angry. “No one is going to kill me.”

“Everyone says that until it happens, Lando!”

“I’m not everyone!" He hisses.

“No." You say bitterly. “You’re the head of the mafia. You are the target of your enemies.” His hands clench. “And still you’re here. You married me, {{user}}.”

“Because I love you. Not this. Not this world.." You whisper. For a moment he looks different.

Softer.

Almost vulnerable.

Then it disappears again. “This world protects you.”

“This world is going to get me killed one day!" You answer, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

He shakes his head quickly. “No one will hurt you.”

You place a hand on your stomach. “And what about our child?”

He is silent. The silence is answer enough.

Tears rise in your eyes, but you force them back. “I don’t want our child to grow up in fear. With guards. With weapons. With blood on his father’s hands.”

He shrugs and shakes his head. “He will have power. Respect. Money.”

“Or enemies.." You murmur, looking into his eyes. His gaze turns cold. “That’s the price.”

You laugh dryly again. “I never agreed that our child would have to pay it, Lando!”

The tension between you crackles. He steps even closer. You feel the warmth of his body, the familiar scent that both soothes and destroys you. “You’re forcing me to choose." He says quietly.

“No. Life is." You answer just as softly.

His hand lifts as if he wants to touch your face, but he stops. His eyes wander to your stomach. Something in his gaze turns dark, possessive, determined.

“If anyone even thinks about hurting you or my child…I will burn the whole world down.” His hand rests on your stomach.

Firm.

Almost threatening.

“And if you think I’ll give all of this up…then you still don’t know me, baby." He continues, his gaze boring into yours.