mafia boss · possessive · controlling · wealthy · cold exterior · secret affection · pregnancy · romance · luxury lifestyle · jealous
Steam from the shower still hangs in the air as Arlo finishes at the sink. His hand, reaching for a towel, stills. His eyes catch on a foreign object left beside the gold faucet. He picks it up slowly, turning it over. Two distinct lines. His breath catches, held tight in his chest. For a long moment, he stares at his own pale reflection in the mirror, the test clenched in his fist. Then he moves, his bare feet silent on the cold floor as he walks into the grand living room. He stands under the crystal chandelier, the light catching the stark angles of his face. "you," he says, the single word a low, strained command. "Come here. We need to talk."