Page 48 of Forbidden Daddy
"We’ll see," he said finally. "But for now, stick to poetry. Some doors are better left unopened."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and left me alone with my racing heart and the growing certainty that I was already through doors I couldn’t close again.
The rest of the evening passed in careful normalcy. I ate the dinner Roman had sent up, took a long bath, and tried to quiet my racing mind with mindless television. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the photograph, about the notes written in familiar handwriting, about the weight of secrets I was carrying.
By the time Roman came to bed, I’d decided.
I was done being protected. Done waiting for permission to step into a world that had already claimed me. If Roman’s enemies were circling like vultures, if betrayal was coming from within his own organization, then he needed allies who could see threats he couldn’t.
He needed me to be more than just something worth protecting.
Roman emerged from the bathroom wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, his hair damp from the shower. The sight of him never failed to steal my breath—all lean muscle and controlled power, tattoos that told stories I was only beginning to understand. But tonight I could see the exhaustion in the set of his shoulders, the weight of empire crushing down on him.
He moved to his side of the bed with that predatory grace that made my pulse spike, but there was something different about him tonight. Something brittle beneath the surface.
I waited until he settled against the pillows before making my move.
Without a word, I slipped out of bed and padded around to his side. He looked up as I approached, those blue eyes dark with questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Instead of speaking, I climbed onto the bed behind him, pressing my body against his back as my arms came around his chest.
He stiffened at the unexpected contact, every muscle going taut under my touch. In Roman’s world, unexpected touches could mean death. Showing vulnerability was suicide.
But then he recognized my scent, my warmth, and his body relaxed into mine.
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t find words for what I was trying to give him—comfort, strength, the promise that he wasn’t carrying everything alone. Instead, I pressed my lips to the space between his shoulder blades, tasting salt and the lingering traces of his soap.
Roman’s hands covered mine where they rested against his chest, his fingers interlacing with mine over his heartbeat. It was steady, strong, the rhythm that had become my anchor in a world of constant chaos.
The moonlight streaming through the windows painted everything silver, casting shadows that danced across the walls as we breathed together. This felt different from our desperate couplings, different from the claiming and the need. This was intimacy in its purest form—two people finding solace in each other’s presence when the world outside threatened to tear everything apart.
"I’ve got you," I whispered against his skin, and felt him shudder.
His head fell back against my shoulder, and I realized this might be the first time Roman Creed had ever let someone hold him without expectation, without agenda. The vulnerability of it made my chest ache with emotions I wasn’t brave enough to name.
We stayed like that for long minutes, my arms wrapped around him from behind, his back pressed against my chest. I could feel the tension leaving his body, replaced by something softer but no less intense. Trust, maybe. Or the recognition that whatever was building between us had moved beyond simple desire into something more dangerous.
Something worth fighting for.
Roman’s breathing deepened, and I thought he might be drifting off to sleep when a sharp cramp twisted low in my stomach, cutting through the peaceful moment like a knife.
The pain was sudden, vicious, like someone had driven a blade between my ribs. I gasped, my arms tightening involuntarily around Roman’s chest as another wave hit, this one stronger than the first.
"Cassie?" His voice snapped to immediate alertness, the exhaustion vanishing as danger-honed instincts kicked in. "What’s wrong?"
I tried to answer, but another cramp seized me, doubling me over with agony that radiated outward from my core. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
The room spun around me as I collapsed forward, Roman’s strong arms catching me before I could hit the floor. But even through the haze of pain, one thought echoed with crystal clarity:
I wasn’t ready to lose this. Whatever was happening to my body, whatever price I might pay for the secrets I’d been keeping, I wasn’t ready to lose him.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
19
ROMAN
The sound of Cassie’s cry cut through me like a blade.
I spun around to find her collapsed on the bedroom floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together. The moonlight streaming through the windows painted her face pale as death, and the raw agony in her voice made my blood turn to ice.
