Page 34 of Forbidden Daddy
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "There’s always a choice. You chose to stay."
The weight of that truth settled between us. I chose to stay, to be part of this world, to stand beside him in rooms where life and death decisions were made with casual brutality. The scared assistant, who’d accidentally sexted her boss, felt like a different person entirely.
"What happens tomorrow night?" I asked.
"Justice," Roman said simply. "One way or another."
That evening, I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at my phone with shaking hands. The missed appointment notification glowed on the screen, a reminder of the choice I’d made. Stay with Roman in his world of violence and secrets, or face the truth about what was growing inside me.
I’d chosen Roman. But tomorrow, I’d have to choose again.
I was about to delete the notification when footsteps echoed in the hallway. I quickly locked my phone and turned, but it was too late.
Roman stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze taking in my flushed cheeks, my trembling hands, and the way I clutched my phone like a lifeline.
"You’re not hiding something from me, Cassie?" he asked, his voice low and unreadable.
My throat tightened. The question hung between us like a loaded gun, and I realized that no matter what I said next, everything was about to change.
"Are you?" I whispered back, because sometimes the best defense was a good offense.
But the way his eyes darkened told me that whatever games we’d been playing, whatever truths we’d been avoiding, time was running out for both of us.
13
ROMAN
Islipped out of bed at eleven p.m., my movements careful and silent as I watched Cassie sleep. She was curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, dark hair spilling across the white pillowcase like ink. Beautiful. Vulnerable. Mine.
The urge to wake her, to tell her where I was going, clawed at my chest. But I couldn’t afford that luxury. Not tonight. Tonight was about ending the threat that had been circling us for weeks, about cutting the head off the snake before it could strike at what mattered most.
I dressed in the dark—black tactical gear, Kevlar vest, weapons that had kept me alive through a dozen wars. The weight of my Glock against my ribs was familiar, comforting. This was who I’d been long before Cassie walked into my life, and it was who I’d be long after the dust settled.
The bedroom door locked with a soft click behind me. No goodbyes. No hesitation.
This was war.
The safehouse on the outskirts of the city looked like any other abandoned warehouse from the outside. Inside, it was a fortress—reinforced walls, multiple escape routes, and enough firepower to level a city block. My men were already waiting, their faces grim in the harsh fluorescent lighting.
Declan stood at the tactical table, studying blueprints of Pier 19 with the focused intensity of a general planning a siege. He looked up as I approached, pale eyes meeting mine with something that might have been concern.
"You’re late," he said.
"Couldn’t leave earlier." I pulled on my tactical vest, checking the straps with practiced efficiency. "Everything in position?"
"Connor’s team has overwatch from the north. Tommy is handling electronic surveillance. We’ve got the pier locked down tight." Declan’s voice was steady, professional. "But Roman..."
"What?"
He hesitated, and for a moment, I saw something flicker across his features—doubt, maybe, or fear. "Are you sure about this? Going in personally?"
I finished adjusting my vest and reached for my weapons. "Someone betrayed my family. I look them in the eye before I put them in the ground."
"I’m not questioning your resolve." Declan stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I’m questioning your judgment. You’ve got Cassie to think about now. A future to protect. Maybe it’s time to let someone else handle the dirty work."
The suggestion hit me wrong, like nails on a chalkboard. I’d been leading from the front since I was nineteen years old, hadearned my place through blood and violence, and the kind of choices that kept lesser men awake at night. The idea of stepping back, of hiding behind my men while they fought my battles, was antithetical to everything my father had taught me.
"Since when do you advocate for caution?" I asked, studying his face.
