“It is currently 3:14 AM, Lucian. I am merely stating a biological observation, not issuing a royal decree. Please, put the car keys back on the nightstand.”

Celeste sat propped up against a mountain of pillows, her hand resting on the gentle curve of her five-month-old belly. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the master suite, casting a soft glow on Lucian, who was already halfway into his trousers, his eyes wide with the kind of intense focus he usually reserved for hostile takeovers.

“You said the word ‘pandesal,’ Celeste,” Lucian replied, his voice a low, urgent rumble as he hopped on one foot to pull on a...