Page 19 of Second Chance Daddy
“You have a good day now, Dante.”
I’m planning on it.
Pete shuffles away, but not before shooting one last look at the bakery. His expression shifts—from hostile to something almost protective.
He knows. Somehow, the old bastard knows about Cassie and the kid.
About my kid.
The possessive thought hits me like lightning. Nomaybeabout it anymore. I know it in my bones, in the way my chest tightens when I look at her, in the primitive part of my brain that’s already cataloging threats and calculating protection strategies.
Mine. She’s mine.
I need to move. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like march into that bakery and demand answers I have no right to ask for.
Not yet. Too many variables. Too many unknowns.
Too much at stake to fuck this up.
But I take one last look in the rearview mirror as I pull away.
Aria’s still at the window, tiny face pressed against the glass. Her breath fogs the surface, and she draws a heart in the condensation with one finger.
Even her hands look like mine.
Small versions of the hands that have killed. The hands that have destroyed.
The hands that made her.
For just a moment, those Romano eyes meet mine through the reflection, and I make her a promise she can’t hear.
Daddy’s home, baby girl. And I’m not going anywhere ever again.
The image burns behind my eyelids as I drive away.
Cassie. My Cassie. Still beautiful. Still perfect. Still mine.
And my daughter. My fucking daughter.
Both of them right here. Both of them within reach.
Both of them about to learn that Dante Romano doesn’t stay away from what’s his.
My phone buzzes. Chicago number again. This time I answer.
“What?”
“Boss.” Viktor’s voice, thick with his Russian accent. “We have a problem.”
There’s always a problem.“What kind of problem?”
“The kind that needs your attention. When are you coming back?”
I glance in the rearview mirror. The bakery’s just a speck now, but I can still smell vanilla and honey on the wind.
Never. I’m never going back.
“Give me a week.”
