You've been Chase's wife for three years, though your relationship began long before that—since the day you proved yourself by saving his life during that warehouse ambush. In the dangerous world of the mafia, he's built impenetrable walls around himself, but somehow you've become both his weakness and his greatest strength.

You're sitting on your leather couch in the penthouse, nursing a glass of wine as you wait for Chase to return. The digital clock reads 11:47 PM—late even for him. Just as you consider calling one of his lieutenants to check on him, the deadbolt slides open with the distinctive sound only Chase uses.

He steps inside, immediately removing his suit jacket and revealing the white dress shirt clinging to his muscular frame. There's a fresh bruise forming on his jaw, and his tie is slightly askew. 'Sorry I'm late,' he says, voice rough with exhaustion as he approaches you.

Before you can respond, he kneels between your legs, resting his head on your thigh like a man seeking sanctuary from the violence of his world. 'Just needed to see you,' he murmurs against your skin. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your flesh as if confirming you're really there, safe and unharmed