MasukEve
Five hours.
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DominikDr. Russo looks like he would rather be defusing a bomb in a hurricane than standing in this exam room with me.Good. That means he’s alert.I’ve secured the entire floor of the clinic. My men are stationed at every exit, the elevator banks, and the stairwells. Enzo is standing guard directly outside the door. If a nurse so much as drops a clipboard three hallways away, I will know about it.Eve is sitting on the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath her legs. She’s wearing a hospital gown that looks ridiculous on her. Flimsy, patterned with faded blue flowers, and entirely unworthy of wrapping the woman carrying the Grimaldi heir."Dominik," she sighs, kicking her legs slightly. "You’re looming. Stop looming.""I’m being observant," I correct, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m standing in the corner, tracking Russo’s every movement as he sets up the ultrasound machine."You’re staring at the doctor like you’re deciding which of his fingers to remove first," she points out
EveMy blood is humming with a restless, frantic energy that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I napped for an hour in my ridiculous office throne earlier, and everything to do with the fact that I’m sexually frustrated.Beside me, Dominik is sleeping the sleep of the righteous. His breathing is deep and even, his arm thrown possessively over his eyes. He looks peaceful. He looks beautiful.He looks incredibly punchable.From the moment he found out about the pregnancy he’s been treating me like a fabergé egg. He touches me as if I might shatter into a thousand pieces if he applies more than a featherweight of pressure. The sex, if you can even call it that, has been tender, slow, and emotionally fulfilling, I suppose. It’s sweet. It’s loving.It’s boring as hell.My hormones are currently staging a violent coup. I don't want sweet. I don't want tender. I want to be claimed. I want the heavy, possessive weight of him pressing me into the mattress until I can't remember
EveIf Dominik Grimaldi keeps smiling like that, I might actually file for divorce.It isn't a normal smile. It isn't the rare, genuine grin that lights up his eyes, or even the dark, wolfish smirk that usually precedes trouble or an earth-shattering orgasm.It’s a smirk of pure self-satisfaction.It’s the look of a man who believes he has single-handedly invented the concept of reproduction.I stand in the middle of my walk-in closet, staring at the shelves where my stilettos usually live. They are empty. Gone. Replaced by row after row of sensible designer flats, loafers, and sneakers."Dominik!" I yell, turning on my heel.He appears in the doorway a second later, looking annoyingly handsome in his pinstripe suit. He’s adjusting his cufflinks, that maddeningly smug expression already in place.It seems to be a permanent accessory."Yes, mi amor?""Where are my shoes?""In storage," he says calmly. "Dr. Russo said your center of gravity will shift. Heels are a fall risk. I can't hav
DominikThe meeting with the Greeks was a headache I didn't need.Fucking Russians. If they’d stayed in their lane none of this would have been necessary. They’re scrambling. After I sank their command ship, they’ve been trying to salvage whatever scraps of influence they have left in the city. They offered me percentages, routes, and fealty. What I needed was their obedience. Unless they find a way to turn back time, they’re burned for the time being.But I hate dealing with the Greeks. They’ve always believed they should be running the city, and I don’t fucking trust them one bit. At least I’m going into the arrangement with wide open eyes.Enzo texted me earlier that Eve isn’t feeling well and it’s been gnawing at the back of my mind all day. Eve never gets sick. I push open the front door hurriedly, expecting to find her curled up on the sofa or still in bed. She’s going to the doctor whether she likes it or not.I find her standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking o
EveThree weeks have dissolved since the night the world fractured and reassembled itself in a warehouse in Red Hook.We’re back at the estate and no long trapped in a makeshift bunker braced for an impending siege. The suffocating tension that choked the air for weeks has completely evaporated.Dominik has been true to his terrifying word. Following the swift, brutal execution of Orsino Genovese, the remaining families fell into a stark, absolute line. The streets are quiet. The threats have vanished. My husband reigns over the city with a dark, uncontested authority, and he treats me with a level of devotion that still leaves me breathless.Everything is basically perfect.The only little glitch is that for the past four days, my body has felt as though it’s moving through wet cement.Waking up this morning was a monumental task. The alarm sounded at seven, but opening my eyes required a surge of willpower I simply didn't possess. A thick, oppressive fog of fatigue has settled int
EveThe heavy oak door of our bedroom clicks shut, sealing the violence of the world outside.Dominik doesn't move toward the bed immediately. He simply backs me against the door, his hands coming up to frame my face. His thumbs sweep over my cheekbones, his eyes burning with a heat that has nothing to do with the bloodshed in Red Hook and everything to do with absolute, unwavering possession."I love you," he whispers, the words leaving his lips like a sacred vow.Hearing him say it again makes my chest ache. The biggest bogeyman in New York, the man who just executed a traitor without a flicker of hesitation, is looking at me as if I’m the center of his entire universe. The cold, ruthless monster who stood in that warehouse is gone, replaced by a man who is utterly laid bare before his wife."I love you too," I reply, my voice trembling slightly under the weight of the emotion suspended in the air between us.He sheds his suit jacket first, letting the expensive fabric drop to th







