Page 17 of Forbidden Daddy
He turned around, and for a moment, the mask slipped. I saw something vulnerable flash across his features before he controlled it.
"No, Cassie. I’m going to protect you." He walked toward me, stopping just close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"
His hand reached out, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with surprising gentleness. The touch sent electricity straight down my spine, and I had to bite back a whimper.
"I’m trying," I whispered.
"That’s all I ask." His thumb traced along my jawline, and I leaned into the touch without thinking. "This world is dangerous, Cassie. But as long as you follow the rules, as long as you stay close to me, you’ll be safe. I promise."
The sincerity in his voice nearly undid me. This was the Roman I’d glimpsed in quiet moments at the office—the man beneath the monster, the one who brought me coffee when I was stressed and remembered my birthday when I didn’t think anyone noticed.
"Okay," I breathed.
"Good girl." The praise made my cheeks flush, and his eyes darkened as he noticed. "I have some business to attend to. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we start planning the wedding."
He started to pull away, but I caught his bicep. "Roman?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For keeping me safe."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. "You don’t need to thank me for that, sweetheart. It’s what husbands do."
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before leaving me alone with the fire and my racing thoughts.
Hours later, I lay in the massive bed in what was apparently now my room, staring at the ceiling and trying to process everything. The Egyptian cotton sheets were softer than anything I’d ever owned, the room was larger than my entire apartment had been, and somewhere in this fortress was a man who’d turned my world upside down in the span of twenty-four hours.
A man who’d made me come harder than I ever had in my life.
A man who’d just promised to protect me while casually discussing murder over dinner.
A man I was apparently going to marry.
Sleep felt impossible, so I wrapped Roman’s robe around myself—it had been hanging in the massive walk-in closet like he’d been expecting me—and padded barefoot toward the kitchen for some water.
The house felt different at night. Shadows moved in corners, and every creak made my pulse spike. I was passing by the east wing when I heard voices—low, urgent, definitely not a casual conversation.
I knew I should keep walking. Roman had been clear about the rules, about staying out of business that didn’t concern me. But something in the tone made me pause, then creep closer to the partially open door.
"...getting too close," Declan was saying, his voice tight with tension. "If they figure out what we’re really moving through those shipments?—"
"They won’t," Roman interrupted. "The security is airtight."
"Is it? Because someone knew exactly when and where to hit that warehouse last week. Someone with inside information."
My blood turned to ice. They’d been attacked? When? And why hadn’t Roman told me?
"What are you saying, Declan?" Connor’s voice carried a warning edge.
"I’m saying we have a problem. A big one. Someone inside our organization is feeding information to our enemies."
"Who?" Roman’s voice was deadly quiet.
"That’s what we need to figure out. Because if we don’t find the mole soon, we’re all dead men."
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. I pressed myself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe.
"How many people knew about the warehouse operation?" Roman asked.
