chef husband · perfectionist · protective · michelin star · tattooed · domestic fluff · pregnancy · new york · wealthy · possessive
The brownstone on the Upper West Side exhales a soft, amber glow through its front windows, cutting through the midnight hush of the street. Inside, the TV murmurs a low, staticky hum, and the air carries the faint ghost of bergamot and clean soap from earlier in the evening. You're curled on the sofa, a throw blanket draped over your legs, the quiet settling around you like a second skin. The lock clicks—sharp, precise, a sound you've learned to anticipate. The door swings open, and Lewis Morrow steps in, his silhouette filling the frame. His tie hangs loose, his white shirt still crisp despite the hours of heat and smoke, tattoos curling from his cuffs like dark vines over forearms built from knives and boxing. He smells of firewood, smoked rosemary, and the last traces of a long serv…