Page 30 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

CHARLOTTE

Four days had passed since Asher, Aria, and I moved into the sprawling Moscow estate Cassian had purchased, a modern fortress of glass and stone nestled in a quiet suburb.

The house was a paradox—sleek and cold on the outside, yet inside, it hummed with unexpected warmth.

Cassian had transformed two bedrooms into vibrant havens for the twins: Asher’s room was a jungle of emerald green walls, stuffed dinosaurs piled on a bunk bed shaped like a treehouse, and a glow-in-the-dark star ceiling that mimicked a night sky.

Aria’s was a pastel wonderland, with pink curtains, a canopy bed draped in fairy lights, and a shelf of glittery unicorn figurines that sparkled in the sunlight.

It was as if he’d spent months planning, anticipating their every delight, and the sight of those rooms twisted something in my chest—gratitude warring with unease.

Cassian had shed his cold, mafia-king facade, replaced by a man I barely recognized.

He was alive in a way I hadn’t seen before, his laughter echoing through the house as he spent every waking moment with Asher and Aria, as if his empire in New York had ceased to exist.

I’d caught him yesterday morning in the backyard, kneeling in the grass as he taught Asher to kick a soccer ball, his deep voice patient as he cheered each wobbly attempt.

“That’s it, bud, aim for the goal!” he’d said, ruffling Asher’s curls when the ball sailed wide, both of them collapsing in giggles.

Later, he’d sat cross-legged on the living room rug with Aria, painstakingly braiding her doll’s hair while she chattered about imaginary tea parties.

His hands, so accustomed to wielding power, moved with a gentleness that made my heart ache, even as I fought to keep my walls up.

We’d agreed to tell the twins he was my new husband, nothing more.

The lie sat heavy on my tongue, but it was necessary—Cassian’s role in their lives was temporary, a one-year deal to keep him from dragging us through court.

Yet watching him with them, seeing how their faces lit up, I couldn’t deny the shift in my heart, a softening I refused to name.

The kitchen was a warm haven.

I stood at the counter, chopping vegetables for a family dinner..

Aria bounded in, her pigtails bouncing, a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes.

“Mommy, can I help?” she asked, reaching for a carrot stick on the counter.

I sighed, wiping my hands on a dish towel. “Aria, stay still, please. You’ll knock something over.”

She ignored me, climbing onto a stool to grab a spoon, nearly toppling a bowl of marinade. “I wanna stir!”

“Aria,” I said, my voice sharp, “stop it. You’re going to make a mess.”

She pouted, crossing her arms, and before I could soften my rebuke, Cassian appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space.

His dark hair was slightly mussed, a playful grin softening his sharp features. “What’s this I hear about scolding my favorite chef?” he teased, winking at Aria.

“Mommy’s being mean!” Aria declared, hopping off the stool and running to him.

Cassian scooped her up, hoisting her onto his shoulder with ease, her giggles filling the room. “Mean, huh? Well, we can’t have that. How about we go plan a secret ice cream mission? Chocolate fudge, sprinkles, the works—don’t tell Mommy.”

Aria squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, carrying her out, his voice fading as he whispered conspiratorial plans about dessert.

I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips as I returned to the cutting board.

The kitchen felt emptier without their chatter, but I welcomed the quiet, focusing on the meal to anchor myself against the growing warmth in my chest.

The dining room glowed with soft candlelight and the clink of silverware against plates.

The table was set with roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and a vibrant salad.

Asher and Aria sat across from Cassian and me, their faces lit with excitement as they dug into their food.

Cassian, in a simple black sweater that hugged his frame, looked almost ordinary, his usual intensity softened by the domestic scene.

“Thank you, Charlotte,” he said, his voice warm as he raised his glass of water. “This is incredible.”

I nodded, a flush creeping up my neck. “Just dinner.”

Asher, his mouth half-full, piped up with a barrage of questions, his curiosity unstoppable. “Cassian, where’d you find Mommy? Was it, like, a magical place?”

Cassian chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Not magical, but close. I met her in a city full of lights and noise, and she was the brightest thing there.”

“Did you fall in love right away?” Aria chirped, her fork waving dangerously.

I shot her a look. “Aria, eat your food.”

Cassian grinned, unfazed. “I don’t mind the questions. Let’s just say your mom made it hard not to notice her. She’s pretty special.”

Asher tilted his head, undeterred. “You’re not gonna leave Mommy, right? You’ll stay our dad forever?”

The word “dad” hit like a punch, and I froze, my fork hovering over my plate. “Asher,” I said sharply, “he’s my husband, not—”

“It’s okay,” Cassian cut in, his voice gentle but firm, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet understanding. “I’m not going anywhere, Asher. I’ll be here as long as your mom wants me.”

Aria, oblivious to the tension, piped up again. “Why do you look like us? Are you and Mommy gonna make another baby?”

I choked on my water, coughing as I set the glass down. “Aria, enough!”

Cassian laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room. “You two are full of big questions, huh? I look like you because... well, sometimes people just do. As for babies, let’s just say your mom and I are happy with you two troublemakers for now.”

The twins giggled, satisfied, and I exhaled, grateful for his deft handling.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of their chatter and Cassian’s playful banter, his ease with them stirring something dangerous in me—a hope I couldn’t afford.

After dinner, I cleared the plates, the kitchen now quiet save for the soft clink of dishes as I washed them in the sink.

The warm water soothed my hands, but my mind churned, replaying the twins’ questions, Cassian’s laughter, the way his presence filled the house.

I dried my hands and stepped out of the kitchen, only to find Cassian leaning against the hallway wall, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on me.

“How long will you keep distancing yourself from me?” he asked, his voice low, almost pleading.

I stopped, the hardwood cool under my feet, and faced him. “We have nothing to talk about, Cassian.”

Truth was, these four days had changed something.

Seeing him with Asher and Aria—the way he knelt to their level, the way their laughter seemed to light him up—had melted a corner of my heart, despite my best efforts to keep it frozen.

His cold facade was gone, replaced by a warmth that made it hard to hate him.

“Why aren’t you wearing glasses anymore? I thought you were nearly blind back then.”

He shrugged. “They healed over time. Money fixes a lot, doesn’t it?”

He reached out, his hands finding my waist, pulling me gently against him.

His scent—cedar and something faintly sweet—flooded my senses, and I didn’t push him away, my body betraying me. “Charlotte,” he murmured, “what else can I do to make you... at least warm up to me?”

“Nothing,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but I stayed in his arms, the warmth of his touch disarming me.

“This version of you is killing me,” he said, frustration lacing his words. “Cold, distant... it’s not you.”

I pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “Why did it take six years, Cassian? I get that you were scared, pushing me away to protect me while you dealt with your illness. But six years? That’s not love—that’s abandonment.”

His hands tightened on my waist, his voice raw.

“I was in a coma for most of it, Charlotte. Cancer’s a beast—I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

I was in and out of hospitals, fighting to survive, but my heart was always with you.

It wasn’t on purpose. I have medical records, proof if you need it.

Six years is too long, I know, but I love you. I hate how fate’s screwed us over.”

I rested my forehead against his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding me as his hand caressed my back, gentle and warm. “I don’t know if I can love again,” I whispered, the admission heavy.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just give me one more chance, in your heart of hearts.”

I swallowed, tears pricking my eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Cassian. It’s messy and painful, but it’s true.”

He kissed my forehead, the gesture tender, and led me to his bedroom.

It was my first time stepping inside, the space a blend of modern elegance and warmth.

He guided me to the bed, sitting beside me, pulling me into his arms.

I curled against him, the weight of everything softening in his embrace.

“I got you your father’s inheritance,” he said quietly.

I pulled back, sitting upright, my heart racing. “How?” The only way was to marry a Moretti or win the House of Devils competition, which he’d pulled me from six years ago.

“After I took you from the competition, I sent someone to represent you, using your name and identity. They won, Charlotte. Your grandfather’s vault and gold are unlocked.

There’s information in there that could crown you the Grayson family’s mafia boss, stripping your father and brother of their titles. ”

I stared at him, joy tempered by caution. “That’s been my goal,” I said, “but I don’t know if I believe you.”

He nodded, as if expecting my doubt. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you to New York. Only your fingerprints can open the vault.”

I nodded, my mind torn. Revenge against my father had driven me for years, but with Asher and Aria, the stakes were higher. “What about the kids?” I asked.

“We’ll get a nanny for them while we’re gone,” he said. “Three days, max, and we’ll be back in Moscow. But you need to know—after this year, your access to the vault expires.”

My eyes widened, shock rippling through me.

One year?

“Is it dangerous? What if Luca and Artem are waiting for me?”

“I have plans to protect you,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re not alone anymore.”

“Okay,” I sighed, leaning back against his chest, his warmth steadying me. “Make the arrangements. It’s my inheritance—now or never.”