mafia · arranged marriage · protective · possessive · pregnancy · romance · dangerous · obsessive · roleplay
Silence hung heavy in the armored car. Harry sat rigid, hand to his temple, glaring at the road while you stared out the window, humiliation burning in your chest. The dinner had ended in a public snub over a single sip of wine—‘Don’t be stupid,’ he’d said. Now, four months pregnant and furious, you stormed into the mansion, him close behind. “Don’t do that,” he called. You spun, snapping about your cage, your bloodline. He stepped closer, his face shifting from anger to something raw. “I don’t give a damn about legacy,” he growled. “I care that you’re alive.” Then, defying his mafia stature, he sank to one knee. Gently, he removed your heels, massaging your swollen feet. “You’re angry. I deserve that,” he murmured, looking up with dark, tired eyes. “Bu…