Page 31 of Second Chance Daddy

Fuck.

I didn’t think about where I was going.

The houses line up like soldiers, neat little boxes with white fences and tidy gardens. The kind of place people pretend monsters don’t crawl into after dark.

Her porch light’s off. The curtains are drawn. But I know she’s in there, probably putting her little kid to bed. I stop across the street, shoving my hands in my pockets.

What the hell are you doing, Dante?

You came out here to forget her. To forget the goddamn fire under your skin every time you think of her.

I drag in a breath and force my feet to walk away, even though I want to stay put.

Keep walking. It’s the smart thing to do.

But when it comes to Cassie Russo, I’m a cocaine addict with a tray full of magic powder in front of me.

When I get home,I find Tina draped across the couch, painting her nails like we’re living in her personal salon. “You look like you’ve been brooding again,” she says. “It’s loud.”

I grunt, cracking my neck. “Tell me about Cassie’s kid.”

That gets her attention.

“Aria? Why?”

“Saw her at the party. She said hello. Got curious.”

“Polite little thing. Wish you took notes,” Tina snorts, then her face softens. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“Cass won’t say much. I know Gino’s not around. Never was. He’s a real piece of shit, too. Cass got out of Chicago fast after the divorce—officially moved back here once the papers were signed, had Aria more or less by herself, and started the bakery-café. She doesn’t like to talk about him, but I know enough.”

“Know what?”

Tina clicks her tongue. “That something wasn’t right with him.”

My shoulders stiffen. “Meaning?”

“She wasn’t herself around him,” she mutters, curling her legs under her. “You know, Cass—sharp, mouthy, always got a smart-ass comeback. But back then? She was… different. Quiet. Jumpy. Like she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then there were the bruises she could never explain…”

I exhale through my nose, jaw ticking. I know that look. I’ve seen women wear it in Moscow—the ones tethered to men who play rough and call it love.

But hearing that shit near Cassie and the kid? It sets something savage loose in me.

“She’s okay now?” I feel like a moron even asking. A person doesn’t come out of something like that without cracks.

“You know how it is,” she says, sounding sad. “I’m just glad she got out of there. You know the family he comes from. Rich, dangerous, and lots of secrets. Total assholes, if you ask me.”

“Totally.” I clench my fists tightly.

“Why do you look like you’re about to break something?”

“No reason. Just tired.”

I walk away.

But I already know I won’t be able to sleep tonight.