Page 14 of Forbidden Daddy
The plane touched down, and within minutes, we were taxiing toward a private hangar. Roman was already unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Remember what I said," he said as the plane came to a stop. "Stay close. Let me talk."
I nodded, my mouth dry. Whatever was waiting for us outside this plane was important enough to make Roman nervous. And if Roman was nervous, I should be absolutely terrified.
The door opened, and Roman stepped out first, his body a protective barrier between me and whatever lay beyond. I followed close behind, my heels clicking on the metal stairs as we descended onto the tarmac.
A black sedan waited near the hangar, its engine running. Leaning against it was a man I’d never seen before—tall, broad-shouldered, with blonde hair and the kind of face that had seen too much violence. He wore an expensive suit, but there was nothing civilized about the way he carried himself.
This man was dangerous in a way that made Roman look tame.
"Declan," Roman said, his voice carefully neutral.
"Roman." The man—Declan—pushed off the car and approached us, his pale eyes locking onto me with undisguised suspicion. "So this isher."
"Cassie James," Roman said, his hand finding the small of my back. The touch was possessive, claiming, and I tried not to shiver at the contact. "My fiancée."
Declan’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the temperature drop ten degrees. "Your fiancée." He said the word like it tasted bad. "How... unexpected."
"Is there a problem?" Roman’s voice carried a warning edge that made my pulse spike.
"She’s an outsider," Declan said bluntly, not bothering to address me directly. "No family connections, no bloodline, no understanding of our world. This isn’t how things are done."
"Things change," Roman replied, his hand pressing more firmly against my back.
"Do they?" Declan stepped closer, and I caught the scent of expensive cologne mixed with something darker—gun oil, maybe, or the lingering trace of violence. "Or are you just thinking with your cock instead of your head?"
The insult hung in the air like a loaded gun. Roman went still beside me, and I could feel the danger radiating off him in waves.
"Careful, Declan," Roman said softly, and somehow, that tone was more threatening than any shout could have been.
Declan held his gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. "I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. The family won’t understand this choice."
"The family doesn’t need to understand. They need to accept."
"And if they don’t?"
Roman’s smile was sharp as a blade. "Then they’ll learn why I’m in charge and they’re not."
The two men stared at each other, and I felt like I was witnessing something much bigger than a disagreement about Roman’s choice of fiancée. This was about power, about tradition, about control of something that stretched far beyond what I could see.
Finally, Declan stepped back.
"She’s simply a pawn for the business," Roman added, his voice casual, conversational.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
A pawn.
Not a partner. Not even a reluctant bride.
A pawn in whatever game these men were playing.
Declan’s expression shifted, something like approval flickering in his cold eyes. "A pawn. I see." He looked at me again, but this time, his gaze was calculating rather than suspicious. "Well, then. I suppose we should talk about your plan."
Roman nodded, satisfied with Declan’s response. But I felt something inside me crack, a small fissure that I knew would only grow wider.
Because in that moment, I realized what I’d gotten myself into.
