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Serafina is very quiet.

The weight of her silence sits heavily on my shoulders as we drive towards the penthouse. She’s not fidgeting, she’s not sighing loudly—she’s just sitting there. It’s like she’s gone numb to me. That terrifies me in ways I can’t process.

It’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to reach out and hold her, to rest my hand on her leg. I want to tell her everything is going to be okay, but how can I? I don’t even know what she’s thinking or feeling or planning.

I really fucked up.

I fucked it all up.

The amount of stress I gave her caused her to have a panic attack and land in a hospital. What kind of monster am I?

The ache that drifts inside my heart is haunting and contagious as it spreads through the rest of my body.

I keep my eyes forward, on the road ahead, so that I don’t have to look at her and hate what I’ve done to her.

It doesn’t help, though. I can still sense the pain in that deep silence between us.

Serafina walks ahead of me into the penthouse.

“Give me a moment to run you a hot bath. Just relax on the sofa for a second.”

She nods, sitting down and closing her eyes with a soft sigh.

I clench my jaw. Don’t sit next to her. She needs her space, and you promised it. I head through to the bathroom and run a hot bubble bath with Epsom salts, and gentle lavender scents waft through the air as the bath fills up. When I turn to call her, she’s already standing there.

“Can I help you with anything?” I ask.

“No, thank you,” she says.

“I’ll make a hot chocolate, then. You get comfortable. I’ll be right back.

When I leave, I glance back over my shoulder to see her pulling her shirt up over her head. My heart stalls for a second, but I force myself to drag my eyes off her. This is not the time to be uncontrolled and drawing in desire. I have to focus and take care of her.

While she’s in the bath, I quickly put fresh blankets on her bed, puffing out her pillows and turning on the soft lighting. I put a glass of water next to her bed and a small chocolate in case she wants something sweet.

I don’t want her to be sleeping so far away from me, but what can I do? She is free to make her own choices.

I should never have taken that away from her.

My whole life I have grown up watching mafia men control their women. They strongarm and demand things of them. They claim it’s for protection, but at the end of the day, it’s just control.

I vowed never to be that man.

Yet, the moment I fell in love—the moment I became obsessively fueled by the urgent need to protect her—that is exactly who I became.

I turned out to be just like them.

I guess I can admit that I understand where the need stems from—the need to keep her safe.

But in pursuing that need, I disregarded her own.

I was selfish; I only thought about myself in the sense that I wanted her to be safe so that I didn’t have to worry about losing her.

What about what she wanted?

Tossing three heaping spoons of creamy hot chocolate powder into her mug, I stir it in and then add two marshmallows and a dash of cream on top.

Walking upstairs, I talk to myself.

She needs space.

You promised to give her space.

Just put the hot chocolate down on the edge of the bath and walk away.

Don’t hover.

Don’t sit there with the expectation of a conversation.

Give her what you promised.

You aren’t going to be that man anymore.

“Sera—“ I push open the half-closed bathroom door and walk inside. She opens her eyes. She’s completely covered in bubbles, lying low in the bath, being caressed by the warm, scented water.

“Thank you.” She sits up enough to take the hot chocolate from me. “Oh. That’s nice.” She smiles when she sees the marshmallows.

The bubbles run down her breasts, revealing her dark nipples and silky-smooth skin.

I clench my jaw and step away.

“Just shout if you need anything else,” I murmur, trying not to be that man.

Turning towards the door, my heart leaps into my throat when she calls my name.

“Yes?” I say, not turning back.

“We need to talk, if you have a moment?”

“I have infinity for you, Serafina. Every moment of every day is yours,” I reply, stepping back towards her.

“Sit down.”

Once I’m settled, watching her, waiting quietly, I can see she’s anxious, and my stomach begins to knot tighter and tighter.

She sips the hot chocolate and takes a deep breath, setting it aside.

“When I was at the hospital, I wasn’t entirely honest with you.“

“Oh?” My body goes rigid with stress.

“I did have a panic attack—but there was more to it.”

I bite my tongue.

“I’m pregnant, Nico.”

My ears are ringing. The words repeating, echoing, and distorted.

Did I hear that right?

Emotions surge inside me.

She’s pregnant?

I’m going to be a father?

“Nico?” she says my name quietly.

“This is—“ I stammer, my heart initially exploding with joy, but then darkness slams it down as I realize how much stress I’ve caused her while she’s been carrying my baby.

“Yes?” she asks, her voice tighter, strained.

“This is incredible, Sera. This is so amazing.”

“You don’t sound happy.” She shifts, and the water splashes back and forth like a small wave rolling through the bathtub.

“I’m honestly—how could I not be happy. I’m happy,” I say, taking her hand. “I’m also really, really sorry.”

“You’re sorry that I’m pregnant?”

“No, I’m sorry that I put so much pressure on you. That I trapped you like I owned you. My intention was only ever to keep you safe, but I realize just how badly I went about it,“ I sigh, shaking my head.

Serafina watches me with her eyes narrowed. Somewhere in her heart, I can see she wants to believe me, but she’s holding back.

I can’t blame her for protecting herself and the baby.

Sadness settles over me when I think about taking care of such a tiny little thing. My child. My baby.

It reminds me of the responsibly I have towards my younger siblings. The responsibility I have carried my own life. I’ve never regretted a moment of it—until the moment I lost Grigoriy.

I couldn’t keep him safe.

I failed him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks nervously. “Did you not want children? Because if you don’t, it's—“

“No, no, it’s not that at all. I was just…“ I sigh. “I was thinking about my brother.”

“Don’t be angry at Luka. I’m the one who took the keys. It’s not his fault,” she says quickly.

I smile, shaking my head. “Not Luka.”

“Who, then?”

“I had another brother, the youngest of all of us. His name was Grig. Grigoriy.”

“Had?” she asks cautiously. "Did he leave the country?”

“Last year, he was murdered by one of our rivals. He was making bad choices and getting into business with the wrong people. It didn’t pay off—in fact, it cost him his life.”

She takes in a sharp breath, then leans forward to take my hand. “I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t know.”

For a moment, I stay quiet, fighting tears of regret and sorrow. Fuck. I miss him so much.

“Every day, I think about him. He was my baby brother, you know. I was supposed to take care of him, and I failed.” My voice breaks.

“You can’t take that responsibility on, Nico. You aren’t the one who hurt him. You aren’t the one who got him involved with the wrong people.”

“I am a part of the mafia world, but I avoid that side of it. I try to avoid all of it as much as I can, and I think that is why I didn’t see what was happening with Grig.

I can’t tell you how much it broke us—all of us—when we lost him.

We’re still dealing with the pain of that.

But as a family, one day, we will get justice for what they did to him. ”

She chews on her lip as she watches me.

I shouldn’t be burdening her with this. I don’t know how or why I started talking about this.

Taking a deep breath, I clear my throat.

“Sera, I love taking care of my family. I love being there for them and making them happy. I will be there for you and our baby. I will take care of you and keep you happy. But I won’t hold you prisoner.

You are free to come and go as you please.

But you must understand that things are dangerous right now.

If you can do it, please stay in the penthouse with me until the danger has passed. ”

“I’ll think about it, Nico. I’m so tired at the moment, though, that I don’t want to make decisions that are wrong for the baby. That is the most important thing right now.”

“I understand,” I nod. “Are you hungry? It’s been a really long day. I’m going to make some toasted bacon and avocado on that fresh bread. Do you want one?”

“Yes, please.” She smiles gently at me. “I’m getting out soon. Before I get all wrinkly and turn into a mermaid.”

“I think you’d make a beautiful mermaid,” I laugh, standing up and leaving her in peace while I head to the kitchen to sort out some food for us.

Over the next two days, I am sure to be patient, and no matter how hard it is for me, I keep my distance, sensing that she needs the space to think and make her own decisions. For the time being, I am just grateful that she’s still here.

***

It’s eight o'clock, and I settle down on the sofa to watch a movie after dinner. To my surprise, she sits close to me. I dare not move too much, in case I take this small gesture the wrong way. But as the night goes on, she shifts up against me, and in quiet comfort, she snuggles into my hoodie.

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

But I’m smiling and my heart is swelling with hope.

When we discuss the baby and I make promises, I can still see her apprehension; she needs time to trust me again, and I have to keep proving to her that I deserve that second chance.

One night, after our usual evening movie, she stands up, yawning and stretching her arms above her head, and says, “I’m going to sleep so well tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll make you a tea and bring it to you. Go get comfy.”

While I’m in the kitchen, she heads up to the bedroom.

With hot tea in my hand, I walk in and find her bed empty. Her room is dark, and she’s not there.

“Sera?” I call out, my stomach twisting. I just heard her up here. Where could she be?

“In here,” her voice calls out, and I follow it through to find her in my bed, snuggled beneath the blankets.

I don’t dare say a word. Again, my heart is flooded with happiness.

“Here you go,” I smile, setting her tea next to her on the bedside table.

“Thanks. Um. You don’t mind, do you?” she asks, raising her brows in question.

“Not in the least,” I answer, trying not to sound as though I’m over the moon with excitement.

I must be winning her trust back. I must be making progress if she wants to be near me again.

Now all I have to do is not mess it up.

Even with her this close to me, I have to stay patient.

When I switch my bedside light off and set my book down with the pages open, facing down on the table, she sighs softly and shifts a little closer.

I roll onto my side and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. “Are you warm enough?” I whisper.

“Mm,” she answers sleepily.

“Sleep well, my angel. I hope you have the sweetest dreams.”