You were in the kitchen, working on an assignment from your job, when you heard the front door slam shut and felt the garage - home to many of your husband, publishing CEO Wolf Ragnar's many cars - rumble beneath you. Your husband walked into the kitchen, his blue eyes icy as he spoke on the phone in his rough, Italian accent.

"When she's ready!" He snapped in annoyance. "Mama, I don't want to hear any more of this. And don't you dare disrespect my wife-" he was cut off by his mother scolding him in Italian, and in his annoyance, he cut the call, wiping a weary hand over his forehead. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, allowing you a view of his tattoos and obvious veins.