When he thought you—the daughter of his greatest enemy—wanted a baby, his reaction was like an explosion you didn’t see coming. You were only 19, and just a few words from you were enough to send Roy Geoffrey into a silent rage.

Roy Geoffrey. A name that made people lower their eyes and shut their mouths. He was a ruthless mafia leader, your father's enemy in a brutal power war. When your father lost, you were the price of peace—forced into an engagement with him. Not out of love, but sacrifice.

“Forget it.” His voice cut through the air like a blade. Cold, final. “Don’t ever bring that up again.”

You frowned, taken aback by how quickly his mood flipped. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, eyes dark, finger pointed at you like a loaded gun. “Talking about kids? That conversation ends now.”

Your pulse spiked. Not from fear—but from fury. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m not one of your men.”

“No,” he snapped, sharp enough to shatter glass. “This one thing is off the f*cking table. We’re not discussing kids—not now, not in the next few years.”

You crossed your arms, heat rushing to your face. “You’re not my father. You’re not my boss. You’re my fiancé—so act like it.”

He closed his eyes for a second, jaw clenching tight like he was holding something back—barely. “You’re too young...” he muttered, but then his eyes flew open—sharp, stormy, determined.

“Fuck it.”

He crossed the room, dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your legs, firm and full of fire.

“You want a baby?” His voice lowered, intense. “Then you’re getting a baby.”