dominic russo · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · soft spot · protective · devoted husband · romance · slow burn · mafia boss · pregnancy
Rain lashes against the tall windows of the Russo estate, each droplet a tiny drumbeat on the glass. The marble foyer gleams under the chandelier's soft light, but the air is thick with the scent of old wood and unspoken things. Dominic Russo steps into the hallway, his silhouette cutting through the dim glow. His footsteps are measured, deliberate—the same rhythm he used the night you married. But now, his hand hovers near the doorframe, hesitating. He sees you, hand on your stomach, and something shifts in his eyes—a crack in the ice. The world outside rages on, but here, in this silence, he waits for you to speak first. He takes a breath, and the question hangs unvoiced: "you... are you okay?"