__________________ SUPERMODEL ♧ SZA ____________________

I stepped through the front door, feeling the familiar weight of the day pressing on my shoulders. My mind was still tangled up in work—deals, negotiations, the usual mafia shit that never stopped—but the second I walked into the house, I could feel the shift in the air. The chaos was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Antonio," my mother's voice sliced through the noise before I even saw her.

I followed the sound into the living room, where she was sitting on the couch, flicking through a design magazine. She looked up at me with that sharp, calculating gaze that never quite left her.

"Antonio," she repeated, tapping the magazine with her perfectly manicured finger, "I think it's time we redecorate this place. I've been looking at some designs—new furniture, new colors. What do you think of a more neutral palette for the living room?"

I raised an eyebrow. "A neutral palette? Here?" I waved a hand around the room. The whole place screamed luxury—marble floors, gold accents, rich colors that made it feel like someone had thrown money at it and called it art. It was far from neutral.

"I'm thinking something more... subdued. We can keep the statues, of course." She shrugged, like it was just a passing thought.

"Sure, whatever you say." I wasn't paying attention. My mind was still on the chaos I'd just stepped into.

As if on cue, Celine came darting down the stairs, still looking like a goddamn vision despite the chaos surrounding her. She caught sight of me and gave me a small smile, though I could see the tension in her shoulders. She looked a little... off.

"Hey, you," she said, walking up to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. "How was work?"

I hugged her back, grateful for the brief escape from my mother's rambling about wallpaper and drapery. "Busy. Long. You know how it is."

Celine pulled back, eyes flicking between me and my mom. "What's going on in here?"

My mother gave a dramatic sigh. "We're redecorating. Can you imagine? We need a whole new look for this place. It's been the same for years."

Celine raised an eyebrow, and I could see the playful glint in her eyes as she teased, "So, let me get this straight. You're really trying to make this place look like a neutral Pinterest board?"

My mom's eyes narrowed, clearly not picking up on the sarcasm. "Exactly," she said.

Celine snorted, shaking her head. "You know, for a mafia family, y'all are really out here worrying about throw pillows and paint swatches like suburban moms."

My mother ignored her, flipping another page in the magazine. "Antonio, I'll have the samples sent over. We'll look at them together this weekend."

I barely held back a groan. "Sure, Ma."

Celine grinned up at me. "Oh, baby, we should go all out with the redecorating. Maybe a neon sign over the fireplace? Something that says Daddy's Money in cursive?"

My mother visibly flinched, muttering something about lack of class, while I just shook my head. "You love pushing her buttons, don't you?"

Celine shrugged innocently. "It's a gift."

Before I could respond, a loud bang echoed from the kitchen, followed by a string of curses. I sighed. "What now?"

We followed the noise to find Alessandro at the counter, scowling down at a shattered espresso cup on the floor.

"What the fuck did the cup do to you?" I asked.

He shot me a glare. "Slipped."

Celine snorted. "Or your hand-eye coordination is trash."

Alessandro flipped her off before grabbing another cup. My mother, meanwhile, just looked unimpressed. "Honestly, this family needs better manners."

That made Celine lose it. "Manners? We literally run a criminal empire, and you're worried about fucking manners?"

My mother just gave her a serene smile. "Class is everything, dear."

I rubbed my temples, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. But just as I was about to sit down, I caught something off about Celine again. She was fidgety, which wasn't her. Usually, she thrived in chaos, but now she looked like she had something on her mind.

I pulled her to the side, away from my mother's next lecture on the importance of sophisticated interior design choices.

"What's up with you?" I asked quietly.

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip.

I narrowed my eyes. "Celine."

She exhaled, eyes darting around before finally landing on me. "Okay, so... hypothetically," she started, voice way too casual, "what would you do if, let's say, something unexpected happened?"

I frowned. "What kind of unexpected?"

She was silent for a beat, then glanced toward the living room, where my mother was still flipping through her damn magazine.

Celine swallowed. "Like... baby-shaped unexpected."

I blinked. "Baby-shaped?"

Her lips pressed together before she finally huffed, "Antonio, I'm fucking pregnant."

The room went silent.

Then—

"WHAT?!"

I turned my head to see Alessandro choking on his espresso, my mother looking like she'd just won the lottery, and Celine staring at me like she was bracing for impact.

I blinked again. "Wait. You're serious?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I just love fucking with your head for fun." She smacked my arm. "Yes, I'm serious."

I opened my mouth, then closed it, my brain fully short-circuiting.

"Antonio?" Celine's voice was cautious now. "Babe?"

I snapped out of it, grabbing her face and kissing her, hard enough to steal the breath from both of us.

When I pulled back, I saw the small smile playing at her lips, the nervousness still lingering in her eyes.

"You're really pregnant?" I asked again, like I needed confirmation.

She nodded.

A slow grin spread across my face. "Well, fuck."

Celine snorted. "That's your reaction? Well, fuck?"

I kissed her again, this time slower, my hands tight on her waist. "I love you."

Her expression softened. "I love you too."

Then—

"So when are we having the baby shower?" My mother's voice cut through the moment, already planning shit before I even had a chance to fully process what just happened.

I sighed, pressing my forehead to Celine's. "And here we fucking go."

I stared at my mother like she'd grown a second head. Neutral Pinterest board? In this house?

Celine smirked, pressing into my side like she was settling in for the show. "Right, so where exactly does the life-sized golden panther statue fit into this 'neutral' theme? Just curious."

My mother waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, that stays. It's an antique."

"Right," Celine drawled. "Of course. Because nothing screams understated elegance like a giant gold jungle cat."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already regretting walking through the front door. "So, let me get this straight—you're keeping all the insane shit, but the sofa is what needs a makeover?"

My mother sighed, as if I was the difficult one. "Antonio, really. The walls need a refresh, maybe some new art, a few statement pieces."

Celine snorted. "Statement pieces? Like what? A life-sized golden giraffe to match the panther?"

"I like the panther," my mother said primly, flipping through the magazine again. "And no giraffes. They're tacky."

I turned to Celine, lowering my voice. "You realize she's going to drag us into a months-long redecoration process, right?"

She grinned up at me, unbothered. "Yeah, but I don't live in fear of her like you do."

I scoffed. "I don't fear my mother."

"Right. That's why you're standing stiff as hell, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else."

I didn't respond because, well, she wasn't wrong. Instead, I focused on the tension still lingering in her shoulders. There was something... off about her.

"You good?" I murmured, just for her.

Her smirk faltered for half a second before she covered it up. "Yeah."

Liar.

I narrowed my eyes but let it go. For now.

Just as I was about to pull her upstairs to avoid getting roped into choosing curtain swatches, my mother clapped her hands together. "Enough about that. Sit. Eat. I had the chef make something light—Celine, you need to be eating properly. You're looking a little pale."

Celine tensed against me. It was so subtle that no one else would have caught it, but I felt it.

Now, I was definitely missing something.

I pulled her to the dining table, settling beside her as the staff brought out plates of seafood, pasta, and fresh bread. Celine twirled a piece of her hair around her finger absentmindedly, clearly distracted.

I leaned in again, voice low. "You sure you're good?"

She hesitated. "Mhm."

Liar again.

I let it slide. For now. But whatever was going on, I was getting the feeling that the chaos in the house was nothing compared to what was about to hit.

Five months.

In five months, my life had shifted in ways I never saw coming.

Celine's pregnancy was in full swing, and with it came a whirlwind of chaos, mood swings, and cravings that could drive a lesser man to insanity. She was still her usual sharp-tongued, dramatic self—just with an added layer of unpredictability that kept me on my toes at all times.

I walked into the house, immediately met with the sound of Celine's voice echoing through the halls. "Antonio!"

Ah. Here we go.

I followed the sound to the kitchen, where she stood in front of the open fridge, a deep frown on her face. She was in one of my shirts—her stomach stretching the fabric slightly—and a pair of tiny shorts that barely counted as clothing. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and her expression was pure devastation.

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

She turned to me, eyes wide with betrayal. "Who the fuck ate the last of my gelato?"

I sighed. "Tesoro—"

"No. No 'Tesoro' me right now. That was the only thing I've been thinking about all day, and now it's gone. I might actually kill someone. And by someone, I mean you."

I bit back a smirk, knowing it would only make things worse. "I'll get you more."

She crossed her arms, glaring. "I don't want you to get me more, Antonio. I want that one. The one I was emotionally attached to."

I ran a hand down my face. "You were emotionally attached to a pint of gelato?"

"Yes."

"Cazzo." I exhaled and grabbed my keys. "Fine. I'll go buy you another one."

She grinned, instantly back to looking pleased. "See? That's why I keep you around."

I shook my head, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You keep me around because you're obsessed with me."

She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "Hurry up before I change my mind and kill you anyway."

I smirked, squeezing her waist. "You'd miss me too much."

Her only response was a dramatic shooing motion before turning back to the fridge, muttering about how unfair life was.

Pregnant or not, she was still Celine. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

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