The living room was a mess—crayons scattered across the coffee table, a half-eaten apple on the couch, and Mia's latest masterpiece smudged on the wall. Tina sighed, running a hand through her hair as she picked up a toy truck. Three years old, and Mia was a tornado with curls and a giggle that could melt anyone. Even now, she was spinning in circles, singing some made-up song about dragons and princesses.
"Mia, baby, slow down before you crash into something," Tina called, her voice warm but tired.
"I'm a dragon, Mommy!" Mia roared, flapping her arms.
Tina laughed despite herself. This was her world now—sticky fingers, bedtime stories, and a husband who ran half the city's underworld. She'd known what Enzo was for years, ever since the truth slipped out before Mia was born. Mafia boss. Head of the DeSantis family. It wasn't like he hid it anymore—the late nights, the scars, the way people flinched when he walked into a room. But Tina loved him, and love was a stubborn bitch. She'd endure the whispers, the fear, the distance, because he was hers. At least, she hoped he still was.
The clock read 7:45 p.m. Enzo was late again. She'd made his favorite—chicken parmesan, the kind that took hours to get right. It was cooling on the stove, and the knot in her stomach tightened. Lately, he'd been a ghost in their home, drifting in after midnight with excuses about "business." She didn't ask anymore. Asking meant fighting, and fighting meant facing things she wasn't ready to face.
The door swung open, and Mia bolted toward it. "Daddy!"
Enzo scooped her up, his deep laugh filling the house. "Hey, princess. You been good?"
Tina leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching them. He looked like sin in a suit—dark hair tousled, tie loose, a shadow of stubble on his jaw. A new tattoo peeked out from his rolled-up sleeve, some jagged design she didn't recognize. Her chest ached. He was still the man who'd swept her off her feet, but something was slipping.
"Hey," she said, forcing a smile. "Dinner's ready."
He glanced at her, his eyes softening for a second. "You're too good to me, babe." He set Mia down and kissed Tina's forehead, quick and casual. She caught a whiff of whiskey and smoke on him—not unusual, but it stung anyway.
They ate together, Mia chattering about preschool while Enzo shoveled food in, barely looking up. Tina watched him, her fork hovering over her plate. He was distracted, his mind somewhere else. She missed him—missed the way he used to look at her like she was the only thing that mattered. Tonight, she'd change that.
After Mia was asleep, Tina slipped into the bedroom, her nerves buzzing. It had been weeks—maybe months—since they'd been close. She'd bought lingerie last week, black lace with a plunging neckline, the kind that screamed take me now. She changed in the bathroom, checking herself in the mirror. Her curves were softer since Mia, but damn, she still looked good. She fluffed her hair, took a deep breath, and stepped out.
Enzo was in bed, eyes half-closed, scrolling through his phone. The sheets were bunched around his waist, his chest bare. Tina's pulse raced. She leaned against the doorframe, one hip cocked, letting the lace do the talking.
"Hey, handsome," she purred, her voice low. "You awake?"
He looked up, blinking like he'd forgotten she was there. His gaze slid over her, and for a heartbeat, she thought she had him. Then he rubbed his face, groaning. "Jesus, Tina, you're killing me. You look fucking incredible."
She grinned, crawling onto the bed. "Good. That's the plan." She straddled his hips, leaning down to kiss his neck, her hands sliding under the sheets. He was warm, solid, and she found him—half-hard already. Perfect. She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slow and deliberate, feeling him twitch.
Enzo groaned again, but it wasn't the good kind. He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away. "Babe, stop. I'm fucking exhausted. Long day."
Her stomach dropped. She sat back, the lace suddenly feeling ridiculous. "Oh."
He opened his eyes, giving her a tired smile. "Don't look at me like that. I want to, I swear. Just… tomorrow, okay? I'll make it up to you."
Tina swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. "Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow."
She slid off him, curling up on her side of the bed. He reached for her, his arm draping over her waist, but it felt like pity. She stared at the wall, the sting of rejection burning behind her eyes. Long day. Right. She'd heard that one before.
Morning came too fast. Tina woke to the sound of water running—Enzo in the shower, getting ready for another day of "work." She dragged herself out of bed, the lingerie tangled in the sheets like a bad joke. She kicked it under the bed and pulled on a robe, heading to the kitchen.
Mia was still asleep, so the house was quiet. Tina started the coffee, her mind replaying last night. She'd tried—really tried—and he'd brushed her off like it was nothing. Maybe it was her. Maybe she wasn't enough anymore. The thought twisted in her gut, but she shoved it down. He was busy. That's all.
The coffee maker gurgled, and she leaned against the counter, staring out the window. Enzo's car was parked crooked in the driveway, like he'd been in a hurry last night. She frowned. He'd smelled like whiskey, hadn't he? And there'd been that moment—when he'd grabbed his jacket, she'd seen a smudge on the collar. Lipstick? No, it couldn't be. She was paranoid.
The shower shut off, and Enzo walked out, towel slung low on his hips. Water glistened on his chest, and Tina's traitorous heart skipped. "Morning," he said, flashing that damn grin.
"Morning." She handed him a mug, trying to sound normal. "Big day?"
"Always." He sipped the coffee, leaning beside her. "You okay? You seem off."
She forced a laugh. "Just tired. Someone kept me up with promises of tomorrow."
He chuckled, pulling her in for a kiss. "I'll keep it this time. Scout's honor."
"Yeah, right." She smirked, but her chest felt tight. He finished dressing—suit, tie, the whole mafia king look—and grabbed his keys. "Love you," he called, heading out.
"Love you too," she muttered, watching the door close.
Mid-morning, Enzo was back in the shower. He'd forgotten something—his wallet, probably—and popped home to grab it. Tina was in the bedroom, folding Mia's tiny clothes, when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at it—Unknown Caller. It rang again, insistent. She hesitated. Enzo hated her touching his phone, but he was in the shower, and what if it was important?
She picked it up, hitting answer. "Hello?"
A woman's voice slid through the line, smooth and sweet. "Hi, darling. Where are you?"
Tina froze, her breath catching. "Who the fuck is this?"
.