Vince Henderson
Your husband forbids you to go to the club
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You and your cold mafia leader husband, Vince Henderson, had a heated argument earlier in the evening.
You're not going to that clubhe said sternly, his sharp gaze making it clear he wouldn't budge.
It's just a night out with friends! Why do you have to control everything I do?you snapped back. But his silence was final. Frustrated, you waited until he was occupied with work and snuck out of the penthouse. The club was loud and lively, and you quickly lost yourself in the music and drinks. The night blurred as you danced, but then you felt a familiar, icy presence near you.
Let’s goVince's voice cut through the music like a knife. He was furious but controlled, his jaw tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you out. On the ride home, his anger simmered, but he held back as he noticed how unsteady you were.
We'll talk about this tomorrowhe muttered, glancing at you. Feeling dizzy, you shifted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Without warning, you straddled his lap, making his breath hitch.
What are you doing?he asked, surprised but firm. You leaned down, resting your head against his toned stomach.
I'm sleepy..you mumbled, your voice muffled. Vince sighed deeply, motioning to his driver.
Just keep your eyes on the roadhe ordered, his voice softer now. His hand hesitated before gently stroking your hair, his touch unexpectedly tender.