Second Chance Daddy: Broken Boss Daddies, page 17
The dichotomy in my brain is too big to reconcile. Dante was supposed to be my safe place, different in a million ways from Gino, and now, here I stand, discovering he’s cut not only from the same cloth, but a firmer, harder, stronger cloth.
How has my life come to this?
When I open my eyes, I feel the tears pouring down my face.
Before I can shatter all over him, the door creaks again.
Tiny footsteps pad across the floor.
Both our heads snap toward the sound.
Aria stands in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes, wild curls sticking out, her tiny face still pink from sleep.
And then—one word.
“Daddy?”
The room cracks apart.
My chest caves, sobs shoving their way up, tears burning as they spill free.
I break.
Dante freezes, eyes locked on mine, his whole body coiled like he’s waiting for the ground to collapse beneath him.
His hand twitches, barely there. A question without words. Permission.
I nod and then look away before my daughter sees me cry.
29
DANTE
My hands shake as I look down at this tiny human who just claimed me with a single word. Jesus Christ. Even she saw it. Even my own kid spotted the truth that was staring us all in the face.
For the first time, it’s real. Aria and I both know we’re of one blood. I glance at Cassie, but she’s turned away with trembling shoulders.
“Come on, nugget,” I whisper, holding out my arms. “I’ll take you back to bed.”
Aria steps forward without hesitation, and I scoop her up. She melts into me, presses her face into my shoulder, and tangles sleepy fingers in my shirt. The word still echoes in my head—Daddy.
My throat burns as I tuck her into bed, pulling the blanket to her chin. I drop to one knee, eye level with my daughter, and gently brush curls from her face. “What woke you, sweetheart?”
“Will other bad daddy come get me?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“You’re safe,” I whisper in a rough voice, the anger seeping through me for what Gino did. To think he called himself a father. Even the devil himself would spit out the bastard from hell.
“I’m going to stay right here, okay, till you fall asleep.”
“Promise?”
“Always. I’m your one and only daddy now, and I’ll never make a promise I can’t keep.”
I sit there, watching as her breathing evens out. She must believe me, because within minutes, she’s asleep, without a care in the world, with her daddy watching over her.
When she’s asleep, I leave the room and walk straight to Cassie’s door. She’s pissed. Acting like I’m the monster in the story.
She fell for a killer? Maybe.
But she killed three goddamn years of my life keeping my kid from me.
I walk into her room without knocking, slam the door shut behind me, and whirl to face her.
She looks at me from where she’s standing by the window.
“What are you doing here?” She acts like I’m not wanted.
“You never even asked,” I growl, stepping closer. “Why I went back to Russia three years ago.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask.” She crosses her arms. “Because what good would it have done? Finding out you’re just another fucking monster?”
The fury claws up my throat.
I stalk closer, the air pulsing, our anger colliding like fire and gasoline.
“You think I’m the same as Gino?”
“Aren’t you?” she fires back, standing now, shoulders squared like she’s ready for war. “You killed him, Dante. You just admitted that. You’re Bratva royalty and have probably killed dozens of people.”
I hold her gaze. “What I hear is you saying that putting down a rabid dog who drugged our daughter makes me like the man who put his hands on you? Are you being serious, Cassie?”
“How does it matter what I think? It’s not like you’ll remember what I think two years down the line!” she roars back.
“Will it always come back to that?” I bark. “Me leaving?”
She shoves at my chest, hard. “You left and chose this life. This life will always come first for you, Dante. Admit that you enjoy it!”
My hand flies out, grabbing her wrist mid-swing, yanking her closer. Our faces inches apart, breathing the same cracked, dangerous air.
“I went the first time because I had no fucking choice. My father needed me to prove myself. Three years ago, I was done with the Russian fucking Bratva. Came back here to start fresh.”
She struggles, but I don’t let go.
“That morning after I was with you, I got orders for a raid to pull. I was to kill a traitor. One single traitor who had mixed up with the enemies. It was supposed to be clean,” I grit out.
Her expression falters, confusion cracking through.
“But when I got there,” I feel raw in my soul, “I couldn’t do my job.”
I stare through her, through the walls, through the years of shit.
“I killed him, alright. But during the raid, there was a woman,” I spit. “Locked in a closet after being beaten really badly. Trafficked. Property to our enemies.”
Her face pales, breath catching.
“I killed them all,” I say, voice ragged. “Tore the place apart.” My grip loosens on her wrist, but she doesn’t pull away. “But my father? He was pissed. Told me I started a war because I was weak.”
The last words taste like poison.
“That’s why I left. Because if I stayed, I’d turn into the monster my father wanted me to be.”
For a heartbeat, we just stand there.
I lean in with lethal honesty. “We’re all monsters in this world, Cass, but not all are evil. And yes, I killed a man who hurt my kid and her mother.” My thumb brushes her jaw. “You just get to decide which kind I am.”
Her breath catches.
She doesn’t move or pull away.
But her eyes—God, her eyes are still fighting me.
So I lean in, slowly this time, testing the air between us, my hand still wrapped around her wrist, my other brushing her jaw.
“If you hate me, Cass…” My voice drops, rough as hell. “Now’s your chance.”
She doesn’t take it. Her lips part—just a breath—but that’s all it takes to break me.
Then she moves like an unforgiving wind, grabbing the front of my shirt, dragging me in like I’m oxygen and poison all at once.
The kiss hits like a grenade. I crash into her like a wave breaking against the shore, my mouth finding hers in a collision of teeth and tongue and desperation. I bruise her lips with mine, and she kisses me back like she’s been dying to lose this fight too.
My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips, dragging her against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. She gasps into my mouth, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.
I spin us, backing her up until she hits the wall with a soft thud. My hands are everywhere—in her hair, down her sides, gripping her ass, lifting her so her legs wrap around my waist.
“Tell me to stop,” I growl against her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants, head falling back. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
I pull back just enough, our foreheads nearly touching, her breath hot against my mouth.
“You called me a monster. So pick, Cass… am I the kind that breaks you?” My thumb grazes her lips, teasing, “Or the kind you live for?”
She doesn’t answer with words. Her body gives me all I need as she lurches into me.
I tear at her clothes, ripping her thin sleep shirt clean down the middle, her breasts a sight to see. She moans when my mouth finds her breast, tongue lashing a peaked nipple until she arches off the wall.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” she mewls, threading her fingers through my hair till sparks shoot down my spine.
My hand slides down her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her shorts, finding her exactly how I knew she’d be—without panties, dripping for me.
“Fuck,” I groan, sliding a finger inside her, then another, stretching her open, working her slow, deep, controlled. “Look at you… already soaked, Cass.”
She whimpers, hips grinding down, greedy for it. Her nails bite down on my shoulders.
I tear her shorts down her legs, dropping to my knees to yank them off her ankles.
When I look up?
Jesus Christ.
She’s standing there naked, flushed, trembling—legs parted like she’s already mine, soaked, dripping down her thighs, waiting to be fucked.
A goddamn masterpiece begging to be destroyed.
And I’m the only one who ever will.
When I stand again, she’s already at my belt, fingers trembling, fumbling like she can’t get to me fast enough.
“Easy,” I rasp, covering her hands with mine, dragging the leather free and shoving my jeans and boxers down in one rough move.
Her eyes drop—and fuck, she makes a sound that hits me where the sun doesn’t shine.
Her lip catches between her teeth when she forces herself to meet my gaze.
“See something you like?” I murmur, stroking a hand up her bare thigh, teasing the skin, feeling her shiver.
“Shut up,” she breathes, but her hips roll toward me, already chasing more.
“Turn around,” I command.
She hesitates for half a heartbeat, then slowly turns, bracing her hands against the wall. I step in close, one hand sliding up her spine, the other wrapping in her hair, tugging just enough to arch her back.
“I should hate you,” she whispers, breath hitching. “For all of it.”
“But you don’t.” I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. “You never could.”
I push in with one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, body tensing around me, so tight and hot it’s almost painful.
“Fuck, Cassie,” I growl, stilling to let her adjust. “You feel like heaven.”
She pushes back against me, demanding more. “Move, damn it.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I pull back and slam into her again, setting a brutal pace that has her gasping with each thrust. My hand finds her hip, gripping hard enough to bruise, the other still tangled in her hair.
“Is this what you want?” I growl, driving deeper. “This is what you’ve been missing?”
“Yes,” she moans, meeting each thrust with desperate need. “God, yes.”
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by her whimpers and my low groans. I slide one hand around to circle her clit, rubbing in tight circles that have her trembling against me.
“You close?” I growl, her body locking down around me, hips rolling back like she can’t help herself. “You gonna come for me, Cass?”
Her only answer is a whimper, her legs shaking, cheek pressed hard against the wall, palms splayed flat, nails scraping uselessly against the paint.
“Say it,” I snarl, grabbing her hip with one hand, the other sliding down, fingers slipping between her thighs to find her clit.
“Dante—” she gasps, voice cracking, hips jerking as I rub tight, relentless circles, grinding my cock deeper with every thrust.
Her body arches, spine bowing, ass pushing back against my hips as I slam into her, my hand gripping her ass hard, spreading her wide so I can bury myself to the hilt.
“You gonna fall apart for me?” I rasp, my mouth brushing her ear, my hips snapping harder, pounding her into the wall so every thrust jolts through her spine. “You gonna soak my cock like you were made for it?”
She sobs my name, her cheek flush to the wall, eyes wild. Her whole body clamps down on me, tight, pulsing, and I feel her start to unravel.
“Come on, Cass,” I growl, circling her clit rough and fast, fucking her deeper, harder, until she shatters—
Her moans are broken, high, and wrecked as she comes hard, walls clenching, thighs trembling, soaking me, her body wrung out between my hands and the fucking wall.
I don’t stop.
I keep grinding into her, chasing my own high, grabbing a handful of her ass, bruising my grip as I bury myself deep one last time, groaning low as I come inside her, every muscle locked, my head dropping to her shoulder.
The only sound left is both of us gasping, bodies trembling, her still pinned to the wall, my chest flush to her back, cock still buried inside her.
Slowly, I slide out, hand trailing down her spine, grounding her as her legs nearly buckle.
She turns with swollen lips and faded eyes. “I still hate that I love you,” she whispers in a ruined voice.
I smirk, catching her chin in my hand. “Lucky for you… It doesn’t change how I feel.”
I scoop her up and carry her to bed. Together, we collapse, and I roll to one side, keeping her right against myself.
Her head rests on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns up and down her spine. Neither of us bring up what she said earlier, what I feel in my bones. That she loves me, and I her. We don’t need to. They’re there in the way she curls against me, in the way my arms tighten around her. In the way we both finally surrender to sleep, tangled in each other like we never want to be untangled.
But our peaceful sleep is broken when the morning comes around with a warning.
The door flies open, jarring us awake.
Tina stands in the doorway with a pale face and eyes wide with panic.
“They’re coming for him,” she says, the words dropping like stones into the peace we’d convinced ourselves was finally ours for the keeping.
30
CASSIE
They’re coming for him.
The words slam into the room like a grenade.
I bolt upright in bed, sheets tangling around my legs, heart kicking against my ribs.
“Who?” My voice is raw, panic already closing in like a noose. “Gino’s family? His brothers?”
But Dante’s already moving—half-dressed, shoving his legs into black jeans, yanking a shirt over that scarred, furious chest.
He tosses my clothes onto the bed. His jaw’s tight, his eyes darker than a thunderstorm.
“Get dressed, Cass. We’ve got to get you out.”
Tina shuts the door behind her, making us pause.
“No,” she says. “You’ve got it wrong. It’s not Gino.”
Dante and I both freeze.
“It’s worse,” she whispers, looking at her brother. “Our father called.”
The room tilts.
“Our—your dad?” I breathe.
“Yeah.” Tina nods, her expression cracked. “He called from Russia and explained everything.” Her voice splinters. “The family wants Dante back… wants him leading.”
I stare at her, my lungs barely pulling air, every warning I’ve ignored crashing in like a tidal wave.
Tina lets out a bitter, shaky laugh, swiping angrily at her face. “Guess I’ve been the only idiot living in denial. Father was impatient. Called me a fool. Said I’ve spent my life blind.”
For the first time, I see it—the hurt, the betrayal under her bravado.
Her jaw tightens as she pushes through the words. “So yeah,” she finishes, raw and hollow. “Turns out we were born into the damn mafia.”
Dante’s face hardens, his stare glued to hers, but she barrels on.
“So yeah, the family will be in Chicago tomorrow,” she finishes, voice low. “And they’re not asking for a meeting. You’re expected at noon.”
“Fuck,” Dante whispers, eyes reaching for me.
I know what he’s thinking. He’s got a kid under his roof.
I stare between Dante and Tina, my stomach twisting, the walls closing in.
They want him to lead. They want him to drown in this life, buried in it, just like his father.
The peace we thought we had? The quiet? The stolen moments in this house?
A fucking lie.
“They won’t let him disappear again,” Tina adds, reading my face, stepping closer. “Apparently, Dante’s made some enemies around here.”
I shove a hand through my hair, bile scraping the back of my throat.
“There’s an out,” Tina says quietly now, her tone shifting. “There’s always an out.”
I look at her, heartbeat crashing through my chest.
“Fake a death,” she offers. “You and Aria can go off-grid with new names and a new life. They’ll never connect you to us.”
Beside me, Dante stiffens. I brace myself for him to tell Tina to get a better idea. To get her head out of the clouds. What he says next floors me.
“That’s… not a bad idea,” Dante whispers, staring at me. “If people find out you both mean something to me, are family, you’ll spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders.”
The words gutted him. I can see it in his eyes, the quiet war behind his walls.
I stare at him, see every ounce of pain, every protective instinct—and still, somehow, I breathe.
The idea wraps around my throat, squeezing tight.
Old me would’ve jumped at the chance. The girl who hid behind lies, who thought running was survival.
But I’m not her anymore.
I turn, eyes locking on the man beside me—the man who’s wrecked me, saved me, destroyed every illusion, and still kept me breathing.
Dante’s not Gino.
And I’m done fucking running.
I push the sheets off, legs shaky, but my voice? Solid.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Tina’s brow arches. “Cass—”
“He’s not leaving her,” I say, fire cracking behind every word. “Or me.”
I feel it—the fear breaking loose, the fight rising instead.
I turn to Dante, voice steady, stare locked on his, daring him to doubt me.
“I’m not scared anymore.” My breath shudders, but I stand tall. “Not of you. Not of them. Not of the Bratva.”
Dante rises slowly, dangerously, that signature burn in his eyes—but this time it’s different.
