Page 15 of Second Chance Daddy

“Maybe seeing Dante will perk you up,” she says with a wicked grin. “I seem to remember you had quite the crush on him back in the day.”

Crush. If only she knew.

I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my ears. “That was a long time ago, Tina. I was a different person then.”

“People don’t change that much,” she says, studying my face with those sharp Romano eyes. “And neither do attractions.”

Oh God. She knows. She has to know something.

Dante Romano is a storm I’ve been bracing to face since the moment I drove away.

4

DANTE

The scar on my lip throbs as I drive past the old high school.Three years.My finger traces the thin line—courtesy of dear old dad’s class ring.

Too soft, he’d said. Too fucking human.

A horn blares. I’m drifting lanes again.

Focus.

Cedar Falls looks smaller than I remember. Or maybe I just got bigger. Meaner. Built out of Moscow winters and blood that wasn’t mine.

The radio crackles to life—some morning show host talking about summer festivals and family fun. I twist the dial until static fills the car. Better than the cheerful bullshit. Better than memories of when I used to believe in things like family fun.

Before I learned what family really means.

Before I learned what I’m capable of.

The Audi’s engine purrs, but I hear ghosts in the exhaust. Cassie’s laugh. Her gasp when I pressed her against her car. The way she said my name like a prayer.

Stop.

My phone buzzes. Unknown Chicago number. I let it ring, but my gut tightens. Unknown numbers from Chicago never mean good news. They mean cleanup. They mean problems. They mean someone needs to disappear.

Not today. Today, I’m just a man driving through his old town.

Liar.

The steering wheel creaks under my grip. I force my hands to relax, but the tension crawls up my shoulders, anyway. Old habits. In Russia, tension keeps you alive. Here, it makes people nervous.

Here, I need to blend in.

The scent hits me first. Vanilla and honey through the open window.Herscent. The same one that clung to my sheets for weeks after that night. The same one I’ve been chasing in strangers’ perfume for three fucking years.

That night.

Her skin was so soft I thought I’d dreamed it. The way she responded to every touch was like she’d been waiting for me her whole life.

The way she looked at me afterward, like I was something worth keeping.

I ease off the gas. Honey & Hearth Bakery. New sign, same corner building where Murphy’s Hardware used to be. My chest tightens like a fist.

Through fogged windows, I catch movement. Honey-blonde hair catching the morning light. A flash of her smile—the real one, not the careful mask she wore around her husband.

Cassie.