Page 16 of Forbidden Daddy


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"He would’ve liked you," Roman said quietly.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you’re not afraid of me." His fingers traced along my arm, leaving fire in their wake. "He always said fear was a poor foundation for loyalty."

The tour continued—library, gym, wine cellar that looked like it could survive a nuclear apocalypse. But the dining room was what really drove home what my life had become.

The table could seat twenty, but tonight only eight chairs were occupied. Roman sat at the head, with me to his right like some kind of queen. The other men arranged themselves with military precision, and I quickly realized this wasn’t just dinner—it was a war council.

"The shipment from Belfast arrived this morning," Joey reported between courses of what was probably the most expensive meal I’d ever eaten. "But the dock workers are asking questions about the crates."

"What kind of questions?" Roman’s voice remained casual, but his fingers drummed once against the table—his tell for stress.

"Nothing specific. Just... curious about why private security was handling the unloading instead of their usual crew."

Declan leaned forward, his pale eyes fixed on Roman. "We need to consider rotating our routes. If the workers are getting suspicious?—"

"We’re not changing anything yet," Roman interrupted. "One nervous dock worker doesn’t constitute a security breach."

"And if it’s more than nerves?" Connor asked. "If someone’s been talking to people they shouldn’t be talking to?"

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my pulse was racing. These men were discussing criminal activity, like other people talked about the weather. Shipments, security breaches, people "talking"—the implications were crystal clear.

"Then we handle it," Roman said simply. "Same way we’ve always handled loose ends."

The casual tone he used to discuss what was clearly murder made my blood run cold. But what scared me more was the way my body still responded to his presence—the way my skin heated when his knee brushed mine under the table, the way my breath caught when he smiled at something Connor said.

I was attracted to a man who probably had people killed on a regular basis.

God help me.

After dinner, Roman excused us both, leading me to a private sitting room lined with books and warmed by a crackling fireplace. The space felt more intimate than anywhere we’d been so far, all warm leather and soft lighting.

"We need to discuss the rules," he said, settling into a chair across from me with a glass of whiskey.

"Rules?" I tucked my legs under me, trying to look more confident than I felt.

"You’re not just my wife now, Cassie. You’re part of this world, and this world has expectations." His eyes never left mine as he spoke. "First rule—loyalty. You never speak about what you see or hear in this house to anyone outside these walls. Ever."

"I understand."

"Second rule—discretion. When we’re in public, you smile, you’re charming, and you never let anyone see you sweat. The wives and girlfriends of my associates will test you and try to find weaknesses. Don’t give them any."

I nodded.

"Third rule—appearances. We’re newlyweds who are madly in love. That means you wear my ring, you let me touch you in public, and you convince everyone that this marriage is real."

"And in private?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Something dark flickered in his eyes. "In private, we figure it out."

He stood and moved to the fireplace, his back to me. The flames cast shadows across his broad shoulders, and I found myself wanting to touch him despite everything I’d learned tonight.

"Roman?" I whispered..

"Yes?"

"Are you going to hurt me?"