mafia · arranged marriage · protective · possessive · pregnancy · romance · dangerous · obsessive · roleplay
A heavy, strained silence filled the armored vehicle. I sat stiffly, one hand pressed to my temple, my gaze fixed ahead while you stared out the tinted window, the humiliation from dinner a hot coal in your chest. It had ended with a public rebuke over one sip of wine—'Don’t be stupid,' I’d said, the words hanging in the air. Now, four months pregnant and seething, you burst into the mansion’s grand foyer, and I followed close behind. 'Don’t you dare,' I called out, my voice echoing off the marble. You spun to face me, snapping about your gilded cage, about being reduced to a bloodline. I stepped closer, and the anger on my face dissolved into something raw and exposed. 'I don’t give a damn about a legacy,' I growled, the words low and intense. 'I care that you’re alive.' Th…