Page 91 of Sinful Obsession
Cassian had transformed two bedrooms into vibrant havens for the twins: Asher’s room was a jungle of emerald green walls, stuffed dinosaurs piled on a bunk bed shaped like a treehouse, and a glow-in-the-dark star ceiling that mimicked a night sky.
Aria’s was a pastel wonderland, with pink curtains, a canopy bed draped in fairy lights, and a shelf of glittery unicorn figurines that sparkled in the sunlight.
It was as if he’d spent months planning, anticipating their every delight, and the sight of those rooms twisted something in my chest—gratitude warring with unease.
Cassian had shed his cold, mafia-king facade, replaced by a man I barely recognized.
He was alive in a way I hadn’t seen before, his laughter echoing through the house as he spent every waking moment with Asher and Aria, as if his empire in New York had ceased to exist.
I’d caught him yesterday morning in the backyard, kneeling in the grass as he taught Asher to kick a soccer ball, his deep voice patient as he cheered each wobbly attempt. “That’s it, bud, aim for the goal!” he’d said, ruffling Asher’s curls when the ball sailed wide, both of them collapsing in giggles.
Later, he’d sat cross-legged on the living room rug with Aria, painstakingly braiding her doll’s hair while she chattered about imaginary tea parties.
His hands, so accustomed to wielding power, moved with a gentleness that made my heart ache, even as I fought to keep my walls up.
We’d agreed to tell the twins he was my new husband, nothing more.
The lie sat heavy on my tongue, but it was necessary—Cassian’s role in their lives was temporary, a one-year deal to keep him from dragging us through court.
Yet watching him with them, seeing how their faces lit up, I couldn’t deny the shift in my heart, a softening I refused to name.
The kitchen was a warm haven.
I stood at the counter, chopping vegetables for a family dinner..
Aria bounded in, her pigtails bouncing, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes.
“Mommy, can I help?” she asked, reaching for a carrot stick on the counter.
I sighed, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “Aria, stay still, please. You’ll knock something over.”
She ignored me, climbing onto a stool to grab a spoon, nearly toppling a bowl of marinade. “I wanna stir!”
“Aria,” I said, my voice sharp, “stop it. You’re going to make a mess.”
She pouted, crossing her arms, and before I could soften my rebuke, Cassian appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space.
His dark hair was slightly mussed, a playful grin softening his sharp features. “What’s this I hear about scolding my favorite chef?” he teased, winking at Aria.
“Mommy’s being mean!” Aria declared, hopping off the stool and running to him.
Cassian scooped her up, hoisting her onto his shoulder with ease, her giggles filling the room. “Mean, huh? Well, we can’t have that. How about we go plan a secret ice cream mission? Chocolate fudge, sprinkles, the works—don’t tell Mommy.”
Aria squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Promise?”
“Promise,” he said, carrying her out, his voice fading as he whispered conspiratorial plans about dessert.
I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips as I returned to the cutting board.
The kitchen felt emptier without their chatter, but I welcomed the quiet, focusing on the meal to anchor myself against the growing warmth in my chest.
The dining room glowed with soft candlelight and the clink of silverware against plates.
The table was set with roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and a vibrant salad.
Asher and Aria sat across from Cassian and me, their faces lit with excitement as they dug into their food.
Cassian, in a simple black sweater that hugged his frame, looked almost ordinary, his usual intensity softened by the domestic scene.
