Page 41 of Bronx

I can do this, he told himself and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.

Half an hour later, the door creaked open, jolting Bronx from his reverie and revealing Cora holding Samuel’s hand. Cora entered, her petite frame dwarfed by the large suite, with Samuel at her side. The little boy looked curious and excited, his dark hair a mess from sleep, his gaze reflecting the same innocence as his mother’s.

Bronx stood from where he’d been waiting on the sofa in the living-room area, his head guardian instincts kicking in as he automatically assessed the room for any potential threats. But there were none—only the challenge of earning Samuel’s trust and love.

“Samuel,” Bronx began, his deep voice gentle as he crouched down to the boy’s level, “your mom and I have something important to tell you.”

“Is it about ice cream?” Samuel asked, his eyes wide with hope.

Cora stifled a giggle, glancing at Bronx with a mix of amusement and anxiety. “No, buddy,” she replied softly, kneeling beside Bronx. “It’s about our family. You see, Bronx and I are going to be mates.”

Bronx could sense Cora’s trepidation, her fear of how Samuel might react to this news. He allowed himself a small smile, trying to project an air of comfort and reassurance. This was new territory for all of them.

“Does that mean Bronx will always be around?” Samuel asked, looking between his mother and the man he had come to know as a protector.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Cora replied, her voice choked with emotion. “Bronx will be a part of our family.”

The boy’s eyes, wide with curiosity, flicked between his mother and Bronx as he processed the news. The air was charged with anticipation, and the soft rustle of leaves outside the window provided a fitting soundtrack to this pivotal moment in their lives.

“Can I ask Bronx something?” Samuel asked, looking up at Cora with a gleam in his eye.

“Of course,” she replied, giving him an encouraging nod.

The young boy scrambled onto Bronx’s lap, his small hands gripping the strong guardian’s arms. Bronx could feel Samuel’s warmth seep through his jeans as the boy settled into place. He looked down, meeting Samuel’s gaze with a tenderness that surprised even himself.

“Will you be my new daddy, Bronx?” Samuel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bronx hesitated for a moment, feeling the enormity of the question. Then, glancing at Cora, he answered gently, “That’s up to your mother, little one.”

“Please, Mommy,” Samuel pleaded, turning imploring eyes toward Cora. “Can Bronx be my new daddy?”

Cora’s laughter bubbled up, light and genuine. She reached out, ruffling her son’s hair affectionately. “We’ll see, Samuel,” she said, her eyes dancing as she looked at both of them.

Bronx smiled at the exchange. He wrapped his arm around Samuel, pulling him close in a secure embrace, and silently vowed that he would do everything in his power to keep this family safe, to give them the happiness they deserved.

“Good,” Samuel said resolutely, his small hand reaching out to grasp Bronx’s. “I like Bronx.”

“Excellent,” Cora said with a smile. “Now—it’s time for your bath and bed.”

“I want Bronx to help,” Samuel said, scrambling down off Bronx’s lap and heading toward the bathroom, never letting go of Bronx’s hand, tugging the adult behind him.

Once Samuel was in the tub, Bronx leaned against the doorway, watching as Cora carefully scrubbed Samuel’s head with a soapy sponge. The child giggled, splashing water onto the tiled floor of the bathroom, his laughter echoing like a sweet melody throughout the suite. Despite the tension that still hummed beneath his skin, Bronx smiled at the sight.

“Okay, little man,” Cora said, her voice tender. “Time to rinse off.”

Samuel obediently tilted his head back, allowing the warm water to cascade over his fine, dark hair, washing away the shampoo and bubbles. Cora reached for a fluffy towel and wrapped it around her son’s shivering form, lifting him out of the tub with practiced ease.

“Let’s get you dried off and ready for bed, hmm?” she murmured, ruffling his damp hair affectionately.

“Can Bronx read me a bedtime story?” Samuel asked, his gaze hopeful as he looked up at his mother.

Cora glanced over at Bronx, her gaze searching for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. He would do this for them—for Cora, for Samuel, for himself. He would not let fear dictate their lives any longer.

“Of course, Bronx would be happy to read you a story,” Cora answered, her smile softening as she led Samuel toward his bed in the living room.

We need a house, Bronx suddenly realized. Someplace big enough for Samuel to have his own room.

Something like the house Steele was fixing up for Mila.

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