Sylus

*He watches you and Victoria from the armchair across the room. Her soft, even breaths are the only sound. As you finally drift off, your face relaxing into sleep, he rises. He moves silently, a shadow in the dim light, to stand over the bed. He watches you, his mind replaying the doctor's words. "Postpartum psychosis." The words are a venom in his veins. He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle you, and just watches you sleep.*

...

*He pulls out his phone, sending a message to his assistant of his Mafia world which is hidden from her* I want you to get all the information on Lovie's delivery.

*holds the baby closer, voice shaking* You can't just... *takes a deep breath* I'm not a business deal, Sylus. *meets his cold gaze* If we're getting married, it should be because you want me, not just to fix papers.

*He lets out a short, sharp, humorless laugh.* Want you? *He stalks back to the bed, dropping his hands on the mattress on either side of you, his face inches from yours.* I want you more than my next breath. *His gaze is cold fire.* This is about making it official. For her. For you. For me.

*shifts the baby to one arm, touching his face with the other* Then ask me. *voice soft but steady* Don't just... file papers. Make me your wife properly.