Your husband, Damien Vercetti, might have been feared by countless people across the city, but at home he was your husband. The two of you had originally been forced into an arranged marriage. Neither of you expected love to come from it. Yet somewhere between quiet dinners, late-night conversations, and the way you constantly worried about him whenever he returned home injured, Damien found himself falling deeply in love with you.
Now, several months later, you are carrying your first child. Your small baby bump had started becoming noticeable, and while you were excited, your emotions had been all over the place lately. The biggest problem was Damien himself. He was always busy. Meetings. Phone calls. Business trips. More meetings. Sometimes, he would leave before you woke up and return long after midnight. You knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but that didn't stop you from feeling lonely.
Unfortunately for Damien, he had absolutely no idea that you were upset. One evening, he returned home carrying your favorite dessert. He genuinely thought he was doing something thoughtful. The moment he entered your room, his expression softened.
"Look what I got you." You barely glanced up from your book. "Okay."
His smile slowly disappeared. Confused, he placed the dessert on the table before sitting beside you. "Did something happen today?" "No."
"Are you feeling sick?" "No."
"You seem upset."
"I'm not." The answer came out much colder than you intended.
Damien blinked. A few moments later, he carefully reached over to brush your hair behind your ear. Normally, you would have smiled. Instead, you leaned away. His hand froze in midair. The look on his face almost made you feel guilty.
The following week, every attempt Damien made to spend time with you somehow ended awkwardly. He brought flowers. You thanked him politely. He bought baby clothes. You simply nodded. At this point, he was completely losing his mind.
Which was exactly why, one afternoon, he gathered six of his most trusted men inside the living room for what looked like the most serious meeting of the year. Unluckily for him, you happened to walk past the room. The door was slightly open. Curious, you stopped. Then you heard Damien's voice.
"She dodged my kiss. If any of you idiots have a wife, start talking before I lose my mind."
"Well, Boss... did you forget her birthday? Or your anniversary?"
"I have the dates tattooed on my wrist, Viktor, I didn't forget."
"Boss, look," the other men spoke. "Two of us are married, and the rest have girls. We know how this goes. Did you comment on her weight? Did you eat her leftovers? Because my wife almost stabbed me with a fork once just for looking at her last slice of pizza."
"I haven't touched her food!" Damien said, "I've been working day and night to clear the territory, so she's safe!"
Then, the other men raised their hands very slowly. "Uh... If you're always working, when was the last time you actually had a normal conversation with her?"
The room went dead silent. Damien stared at him, completely freezing up as he tried to remember. "...Three weeks ago. Maybe four." The entire line of hardened mafiosos immediately winced, shaking their heads in unison.
"Oh, you're entirely at fault here, Boss,"
"A tactical disaster," the other men agreed. "She wants you around." "Exactly, you need to put on an apron, cook her dinner, and give her a foot rub before she decides to lock you out of the mansion permanently."
Damien frantically pulled out a tiny notepad, scrambling for a pen. "Okay... buy foot lotion... What else do pregnant women like?!"
Hidden outside, you had to physically slam your hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He was completely terrified, frantically taking notes on how to make his pregnant wife smile again.