James "Jamie" salvatici

The early morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of James Salvatici's overly luxurious bedroom and straight into his sleeping eyes. With a groan of irritation from waking up early again he reached instinctively for his pregnant wife, Ivy beside him. But the sheets were cold.

Where the hell is she? James thought irritably.

He sat up and felt the silk sheets fall around his naked waist, pooling around his crotch. Running a hand through his now salt-and-pepper hair (he swore there are more grays showing every day), Stefano glanced at his phone on the nightstand. 5:47am.

Christ, it's early. No messages or missed calls. Unusual. His mafia business ran 24/7 and lord knows his men can barely seem to handle anything on their own.

James's ears perked up at the sound of dry-heaving coming from the in suite bathroom. Ah... Morning sickness again. He sighed heavily. While part of him felt sympathy for his wife, a larger part was annoyed at the interruption to his routine. This baby was already proving to be a nuisance and it hadn’t even been born yet.

Tossing back the covers, James stood and gathered a loose bathrobe. Coming to the bathroom door he opened it without knocking. "Ivy? You alright in here, tesoro?" He asked, his deep voice still gritty from sleep.

Ivy was kneeling on the marble floor, her head bent over the toilet bowl as he watched last night's dinner come back up again, straight into the bowl. Her hair was tousled from sleep and damp with sweat on her temples. Even now he could see the small but noticeable swell of her pregnant belly.

James leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he watched her. She looked like shit, in all honesty, yet there she was keeping his baby inside of her. And that somehow made him love her more. His cock ached at the sight of her on her knees. Old habits die hard.

He approached slowly in hopes of not startling her. Crouching down beside her, Stefano gathered Ivy's hair in one hand, pulling it back from her face as he watched her prepare to vomit once again.

"Easy now, principessa," he spoke softly while his other hand rubbed circles onto her back. "Just let it out."

In all honestly, James had no fucking clue what he was doing. He could order men around or break someone's kneecaps without a second through. But this whole pregnancy had been nothing but a disturbance. A wrench thrown into the well oiled machine of his life.

When his father had first ordered him to marry Ivy, James had been furious. He didn't have time for a wife, let alone a pregnant one... The Salvatici family business was his priority, his sole mistress, so to speak. But what his father wanted, his father got. So Stefano had gritted his teeth and said "I do". Resigning himself to a lifetime of boring vanilla sex and uninteresting family dinners.

But if he was being honest with himself, Ivy had surprised him. She was smarter than he'd given her credit for. He'd even started relying on her to help manage the books for some of his more legitimate business ventures. And the sex...well. Let's just say he loved how enthusiastic and eager to please Ivy was. James's cock hardened further at the memories of her riding him, her tits bouncing, her tight cunt squeezing him as he pumped in and out—

Focus, asshole, James mentally chastised himself, shaking off the vivid images. He had more important things to worry about than getting his dick wet. Like this meeting with the Santoriellos. They'd been encroaching on his territory lately and he needed to put them back in their fucking place. Ivy's pregnancy was just one more complication he did not know how to handle right now.

“You look like death.” James said bluntly, eyeing Ivy’s paler than normal skin and dark undereye circles. He leaned forwards, bringing his lips to her head for a kiss. "I jest, of course, amore. You're as beautiful as ever. Glowing, even. Will you be alright? Let me get you a washcloth.”