Page 31 of Sweetest Sin (Tempting Love #1)

Dominick

Daddy.

I’m a fucking daddy.

I have a son.

With my gray eyes.

He has Peyton’s red hair and skin color, but his personality is all me.

The kid isn’t afraid of shit—and he proved that when he flew off the float and into the water without a care in the world.

And I proved I have no idea what I’m doing as a dad when I dove in after him and then proceeded to bitch at Peyton because I thought our son had almost drowned.

Of course he can swim.

Because Peyton is a damn good mother.

And she not only agreed to give us a chance, but she also told our son that I was his father.

Then, he called me Daddy … and I agreed to chop down a fucking tree.

“Okay, so tell me about this tree,” I say to Damien as we sit at the island while Peyton heats up the dinner that Martha made earlier and left for us.

“It’s in my …” He stops speaking and looks up at me with sad eyes.

I have no idea what I did wrong, but when tears fill his eyes, I glance at Peyton, two seconds away from freaking out.

“Mommy, my book!” Damien cries. “My book is gone. It’s at home.”

He jumps off the stool and runs toward the living room, and we both follow after him.

“My book is gone! I gotta go home and get it.”

Tears track down his face, and my heart, which I thought was dead, squeezes in my chest, reminding me that it’s very much alive and beating.

“Please, Mr. Daddy, I gotta get my book.”

He looks around the large room, hoping the book will appear, but it’s not here, and unfortunately, while their stuff is on the way, it’ll be a few days before it arrives since the company that I hired has to pack up everything and then deliver it.

As I watch my son cry in devastation over a book that he doesn’t have because I had to take him from his home in the middle of the night—because he was going to be kidnapped, thanks to a vendetta that a psychopath has against me and my family—my only thought is that I need to make this right.

Peyton starts to speak—I’m sure to try to calm him, but he shouldn’t have to be calmed. He should have his fucking book. Peyton’s trusting me to make sure they’re taken care of, and I’m not about to fuck this up.

“C’mon,” I say, lifting Damien into my arms. “Let’s go get your book.”

“What about dinner?” Peyton asks. “We don’t have to?—”

“We can eat out,” I tell her. “Damien needs his book.”

I snatch my keys off the table and head to the garage, thankful that I had Janet make sure booster seats were installed in all the cars I use.

Since I have no idea how to buckle a child in, I watch Peyton do it, and then we take off. She doesn’t know it, but because Anthony is still missing, I have several guards following us, and they’ll surround us wherever we go.

“I think we can get it at Target,” she says as I pull out of the driveway and head toward town.

“Chocolate milk with whip?” Damien asks.

“We’ll see,” Peyton tells him. “He knows Target has a coffee shop in it,” she says to me. “Whenever we go, I get a coffee, and he gets a chocolate milk with whipped cream. It’s kind of our thing.” She shrugs.

“Coffee and chocolate milk it is then,” I tell them both.

Target didn’t have the book—but it had coffee and chocolate milk—and neither did Walmart or Barnes & Noble.

But after looking up other bookstores in the area, we were able to find it at the third one we went to.

And the smile that spread across Damien’s face when he saw it on the shelf was worth traveling all over South Florida.

“And this is The Giving Tree ,” Damien tells me.

We’re currently sitting on a bench in the children’s section of the bookstore—since he insisted his mom read it to us immediately so I’ll know what kind of tree we’re looking for—while my guys are stationed in several spots around the store and by the front door.

There’s going to come a time when my son learns the type of life that he’s now a part of, but I refuse to follow in my father’s footsteps and force it down his throat.

He’s going to stay innocent for as long as possible.

“This is the tree you want in our backyard?” I ask him, pointing to the large tree in the book.

“Yes.” He nods. “This one has apples, but I can get apples at the store with Mommy. I just want the tree to swing on.”

Peyton snorts a laugh, but quickly covers it with a cough before she says, “Damien, any tree we get will be small, and it will take years to grow. I don’t?—”

“I got this,” I tell her with a grin, patting her knee. “You want a tree like this to swing on?” I ask him.

He nods.

“You got it, buddy. But we don’t need to go chop one down … because we already have one in our backyard.”

I pull out my phone and text my guys, letting them know what I need, and George responds that it will be done before we get home.

When my father cleared the land years ago to build the house, my mom insisted he keep an old tree in the back for shade. She said he was pissed, that he told her it would ruin the aesthetic, but she put her foot down, and the tree stayed.

We were never allowed to play as kids, but when we wanted to get away from our father, Matteo and I would climb the tree and hide out. And I always thought it would be the perfect tree to hold a swing.

“Let’s go to dinner,” I tell them. “And when we get home, I’ll take you to the tree, and your mom can read us the book while you swing from it.”

I wink at Damien, and he squeals in delight. And fuck if my heart isn’t full. My entire life has been filled with so much damn darkness, but only a day with these two, and it’s already so much brighter.

“Mommy! Daddy! It’s The Giving Tree!” Damien yells as he runs toward the large tree in the back of the property, which now houses a brand-new tire swing and wooden steps leading up to the separation in the trunk, where Matteo and I used to sit and talk for hours.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Peyton says, smiling at me. “Thank you. This is …” She shakes her head, and her eyes fill with tears.

“What you both deserve,” I tell her.

Damien goes straight for the steps first, and without issue, he clambers up the rungs and then turns around and leans against the thick branch.

He’s only a few feet up in the air, but George let me know he’s having playground grass installed tomorrow, so if Damien were to fall, it would reduce the chance of him breaking something.

“Mommy, look at me!” Damien yells with a smile spread across his face. “I’m in The Giving Tree!”

“I see that,” Peyton says, walking over to him.

Damien looks around for a few seconds, and then he comes down and goes over to the tire swing. It’s low enough for him to get onto himself, so I let him do it. Once he’s sitting and holding on, I walk up behind him and push him gently.

He giggles in excitement, and Peyton grins. In this moment, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them both safe and happy.

I meant what I told her. I’ll burn this city to the ground and go after anyone who threatens my family, starting with Anthony Rothschild. He’d better enjoy his time on this earth because it’s limited.

“And who is this?”

My mom comes strolling into the living room, her face full of makeup, her hair perfectly styled, dressed in a black-and-gold pantsuit. The woman is in her early fifties, but doesn’t look a day over forty, thanks to Botox and the best plastic surgeons in South Florida.

She spots Peyton first, but before I can explain—she hasn’t been home, and I didn’t want to tell her she’s a grandmother over the phone—Damien comes running out of the kitchen with a cookie in each hand, no doubt courtesy of Martha, who has taken great joy in spoiling him.

“I got two cookies, Daddy!” He giggles, holding up the cookies for me to see. “I share with you.”

He hands me a cookie, and I take it from him with a smile.

“Thank you, buddy.” I take a bite of the cookie and glance at my mom, whose mouth is parted in shock.

“Did he … just call you …”

“Mother,” I say, bringing Damien over to me, “I’d like for you to meet your grandson. Damien, this is your grandmother.”

“I already got a grandma,” Damien says. “She’s in heaven. Right, Mommy?”

Peyton comes over and kneels in front of Damien. “Grandma is in heaven. But she was my mommy. This grandma is Daddy’s mommy.”

“Oh my goodness,” my mother says. “Dominick, he looks just like you, the same gray eyes … only with red hair.”

“That’s because of me,” Peyton says with an awkward laugh and stands. “Apparently, my Scottish genes run strong.”

“Mother, this is Peyton, Damien’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Peyton says softly.

I’m sure she’s nervous because her meeting with Brielle didn’t go over too well.

I explained to Peyton that my sister is protective and she’ll come around. She’s just fighting her own demons.

“Why are we just learning about his existence now?” my mother asks. “I don’t understand.”

“Peyton had planned to tell me, but she saw some things that scared her away.” I give my mother a knowing look, and she nods in understanding. “So, she made the decision to raise Damien in Coral Bay, but they’re here now and living with me.”

My mother approaches Peyton first and takes her hands in her own. “My name is Larisa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Then, she lowers herself until she’s eye level with Damien. “And since I’m your second grandmother, would you like to call me Babushka ? It means grandma in Russian.”

Damien giggles. “ Bah-bush ?” he repeats, completely butchering the word.

My mom laughs and glances up at me with watery eyes before she turns back to Damien. “Yes, my sweet boy. I’m your babushka . Your grandma.”

“ Babush , I got a cookie. You want some?” he asks, holding it out for her.

“Oh, no, sweetie. You eat it. Martha makes the best cookies.”

Damien nods and takes a bite, and my mother stands.

“I was wondering if I could speak to you. I came home, hoping to catch you in person, but you seemed to have caught me.” She grins over at Peyton and then down at Damien.