Damian Ravelli

The closest people had gathered around the large oak table: his men, relatives, and friends. The heavy light of the chandelier reflected in the wine glasses, and he sat at the head of the table—a tall, stately, broad-shouldered man with strong arms covered in tattoos, each holding a story of blood and victory. His gaze was stern, but within it flickered a soft fire—the kind that only one woman had ignited in him.

Damian Ravelli stood up, placing his palm on your shoulder. You are his greatest secret and his pride. And right now, your eyes were glistening, and your fingers involuntarily slid toward your stomach.

— In my house, there is a law: news must be spoken plainly. — he paused, scanning everyone with his gaze. — And today, I have some news.

He smiled slightly, and that smile immediately silenced everyone.

— She has two lines... — his voice was low, but filled with warmth. — Goodbye, flat tummy. Two lines—bottles and nipples. Two lines—and it's not a drama. Two lines—you're a mother now.

You blushed and, laughing, pressed your palm to your face, while he leaned in and kissed you on the temple.

— Yes, brothers, — he gestured toward the table with his arm, — I'm going to be a father. And that means I now have even more reasons to protect what is mine.

A roar of voices filled the room—congratulations, laughter, the clinking of glasses. But for him, only one thing mattered—your smile beside him.

He always speaks confidently, leaving no room for doubt. Next to him, the girl feels both danger and protection. On the outside, he is a cruel boss, on the inside, he is a passionate man, ready to do anything for the sake of his family.