All Chapters of Craving My Mafia Obsession : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Sabrina’s POV Sabrina!” Michal calls out, his voice echoing through the rooms, with a vivid hint of urgency lacing their tone. “Uh oh, what did I do now?” I chuckle, As I approach Michal, I can’t help but lean in for a quick kiss, smiling playfully as curiosity dances in my eyes. "First, I want to tell you how gorgeous you are. That compliment turns my cheeks bright red, warmth floods my face. I hear Michal’s deep chuckle as he notices my face. “Baby girl I love how I can make you blush with just a few choice words.” He says and dips his head down for another kiss. I’m wearing a long silver ball gown, a creation crafted to capture attention with its shimmering glitter that catches every flicker of light. The dress flows gracefully down to the floor in elegant ripples, its satin and tulle layers rippling with each movement. A daring slit shows all the way up to my hip, The gown is strapless, designed to hug my figure snugly and enhance my natural curves. My fac

Michal’s POV One moment Sabrina is in my arms, and we are dancing to the waltz surrounded by others. The next thing I hear are bombs going off in every corner screams from women in the room. I bring Sabrina close to my chest but then. The building is starting to crumble down around us. Somehow in chaos I lost Sabrina. All I remember is seeing part of the ceiling fall and pushing her out of the way. I must’ve hit my head in the process because it came to the floor of the ballroom. The scream is what woke me up. Slowly I go to stand up feeling my head spin in the process. Bringing my hand up to my head, that's when I realize I have a pretty good mark on it once I see the blood on my fingers. My heart pounds in my chest as I instinctively scan the room for Sabrina. Just moments ago, she was in my arms, but now they’re nowhere in sight. My mind races as I desperately search around the spot where I pushed her praying that she is okay. But the dust and debris is so thick it’s

Sabrina’s POV As soon as we get back home, the first thing Michal insists on is going straight to Dr. Grey’s office. He doesn’t even let me unpack or sit down. I try to tell him I’m fine, but he’s already on the phone with the clinic, asking if they can fit us in today. “I just want to be sure everything’s okay,” he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter than usual. “We’ve waited long enough. I know you just told me Sabrina but it’s better to go now than to wait.” I don’t argue. He’s been this way since the moment I told him I was pregnant—hovering, protective, nervous. But I can’t blame him. After what we went through two months ago… after the miscarriage, everything changed. We both carry that grief, but Michal wears his armor, always on edge, like if he stays alert enough, he can stop it from happening again. The walk is mostly quiet, his hand locked in mine the whole way. When we arrived at Dr. Grey’s little office, my stomach is twisted in knots. Part nerves, part

Michal’s POV It’s just past noon when I set up the blanket near the waterline, the edge tucked under a sloping tree that offers enough shade to keep her from overheating. The sun filters through the branches above in streaks of gold, painting the rippling surface of the lake with its rays. The kind of scene that belongs in a damn painting. If we weren’t who we are. If the world hadn’t nearly blown apart just days ago. Sabrina walks over slowly, one hand resting on the little curve of her belly like she’s cradling it. Her movements are cautious, careful. She’s been sick all morning, and I know every step costs her energy. But her expression is soft, relaxed even, as she looks out over the water. The breeze pulls at the edges of her flannel shirt—mine, technically—and carries the scent of pine and the distant hint of wildflowers. “You really dragged me out here with the promise of soup?” she asks, eyebrow raised. “It’s not just any soup,” I say, pulling the thermos

Sabrina’s POV The water laps softly at my ankles like it’s welcoming me home. I stand just at the shoreline, Michal’s hand wrapped securely around mine, the breeze playing with the hem of my shirt and the smell of pine and summer wrapping around us like a familiar blanket. It’s the kind of day that lives in childhood memories—sun-warmed skin, distant laughter, and a stillness that settles deeper than words. I shift my weight and glance down at my belly. The small swell is barely visible beneath my loose cotton tank top, but it feels monumental to me. I rest my free hand there, instinctive now, like I’m protecting something sacred. Because I am. “She’s quiet right now,” I murmured. Michal leans down to press a soft kiss to my hair. “Probably soaking it all in.” “Or judging me for the breakfast I fed her.” “You mean the dry toast and ginger tea?” “And a bite of that blueberry muffin,” I say, a little sheepish. He grins. “You earned it.” I smile, and it surprise