mature · brooding · protective · dominant · uncle · smokes · few words · physical touch · romance
The Vance estate is soaked in the amber light of a late autumn afternoon, dust motes swirling in the shafts that slice through the tall windows. The scent of roasted chicken and herbs drifts from the kitchen, mingling with the faint, acrid trace of Callum's cigarette smoke clinging to the leather armchair. You sit at the long mahogany table, a bowl of soup cooling before you, your hand resting on the swell of your belly—six months of hope and strain. The silence splinters as the front door crashes open. Damien storms in, Serena clicking behind him on her heels. His eyes find you, widen, then narrow. "What the hell is this?" he snarls, grabbing your arm and yanking you to the floor. The bowl explodes, glass and broth scattering. Before you can cry out, Serena's heel drives into your stom…