Page 23 of Forbidden Daddy


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"Today."

There was a pause. "That’s going to cost extra."

"Money isn’t an issue."

"Consider it done. They’ll be there by noon."

I ended the call and dialed another number. This time, it was my tech specialist—a paranoid genius who could make electronic surveillance equipment out of household appliances.

"Tommy? I need a full security sweep of the estate. Every room, every device, every possible listening post. And I need it done quietly."

"Looking for something specific?"

"Bugs. Transmitters. Anything that doesn’t belong."

"When do you need it done?"

"Now. And Tommy? If you find anything, don’t touch it. Just mark the location and report back to me directly. No one else hears about this until I say so."

"Understood."

The third call was to Connor, the only man in my organization I trusted completely. He’d been with my father since before I was born, had saved my life more times than I could count, and had never once given me a reason to doubt his loyalty.

"Connor, I need you to do something for me. Quietly."

"Name it."

"Background check on Cassie James. Everything you can find—family history, financial records, employment history, associates. I want to know who she’s talked to, who she’s fucked, who she owes money to."

The silence on the other end stretched long enough that I started to worry Connor had hung up.

"Roman," he said finally, his voice careful. "You sure about this? Because if she finds out?—"

"She won’t. And Connor? This stays between us. No matter what you find."

"Of course. But Roman? For what it’s worth, I like the girl. She’s got steel in her spine, and she looks at you like you hung the moon. Don’t throw that away over paranoia."

The call ended before I could respond, leaving me alone with my doubts and the growing certainty that everything I’d built was balanced on a knife’s edge.

The door to my office slammed open hard enough to rattle the windows. Declan stood in the doorway, his face pale, his blonde hair disheveled like he’d been running.

"Roman," he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "We’ve got a problem. A big fucking problem."

"What is it?"

"The warehouse on Pier 47. The one with our main shipping operation." His eyes were wide with something that looked like shock. "It’s gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"I mean, gone, Roman. Blown to fucking pieces. The whole building is rubble, and there are fire trucks and feds crawling all over the scene."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Pier 47 wasn’t just any warehouse—it was the heart of our legitimate shipping operation, the cornerstone of my plan to clean up the family business. More importantly, it housed financial records, shipping manifests, and client information that could implicate dozens of our associates if it fell into the wrong hands.

"How bad?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would be catastrophic.

"Eight dead, including two of our guys. The explosion was big enough to take out half the pier. And Roman?" Declan’s voice dropped to a whisper. "This wasn’t an accident. Someone planted charges in exactly the right places to bring down the whole structure."

The room went silent except for the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Someone had just declared war on the Creed family. Someone with inside knowledge of our operations, our security protocols, and our most vulnerable assets.