Chapter 2
Dante
The door to the dental office washroom swings open, and Camille steps out, clutching the stranger’s hand and the blue sticker Dr. Baglio gave her after her filling.
She refused to use the facilities without the woman she’d only recently met by her side.
It’s a unisex toilet, for fuck’s sake, but Camille still shunted me into the dark like I can’t give her every wish her heart desires.
A red flush spreads across Camille’s cheeks when she notices my watch. Her eyes, identical to mine in every way, shine brightly, and for the first time today, she isn’t on the verge of crying.
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since we left our family compound this morning, relieved she made it through her appointment without tears or drama. The quiet bravery I’ve been trying to coax from her for the past six months surfaced during her twenty-minute-long appointment.
When the stranger follows Camille’s gaze, I stand taller. I still don’t know her name, but it must be exotic. It needs to be to suit her curves, stunning face, and classic hair. She has the glamor of the foreign starlets who light up our screens year-round.
I may not like that Camille has immediately taken to her, but I understand it. Even while she thought I was a monster lurking in the shadows, the blonde’s calm, reassuring nature during her interactions with Camille was inspiring—in more ways than I care to admit.
To my surprise, my cock hardened when she stood toe-to-toe with me and held her ground. Everyone else flinched in fear, but not her. All five foot two, jabbing me in the chest without a flicker of concern passing through her striking eyes.
Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I’m also frustrated by how she barged into our lives, demanding answers to questions that weren’t hers to ask.
Any time I tried to respond, she cut me off with a glare that seemed impossible for someone her size.
She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know Camille or me, but she saw a frightened kid and refused to leave.
I respect that, even if it makes me the villain.
I’m used to being the antihero. It’s second nature when you grow up in a family like mine.
The Carusos’ reputation stretches back generations.
Mafia blood runs deep in my veins. I spent most of my life in the darkness of the Cosa Nostra, learning to survive in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty is currency.
I know what it means to be feared, respected, and watched.
Since becoming a father, I’ve stepped back from the role that’s made me billions.
I want to forge something better for Camille—something that won’t judge her solely on her gender.
Again, don’t misinterpret me. My father is a brilliant, loving man.
The legacy he’s built with the help of my four brothers and me is legendary, but he raised five sons and is eagerly awaiting the birth of his first grandson.
He doesn’t grasp the stigma Camille will encounter solely because of her gender.
I won’t let her influence be diminished because she’s a girl. That doesn’t sit well with me. I’ll burn down the world before I let anyone make her feel less than them. Camille is my heir, and that’s more than enough.
Her childhood will mirror mine. It will include privilege, power, and protection, but without the suffocation of high expectations. I don’t want her every move watched. Nor do I believe every mistake warrants punishment.
I want more for her than rules. I want her to be strong and independent, but more than anything, I want her to be free from the darkness that shaped me. I want her to laugh without fear, trust without hesitation, and live without constantly peering over her shoulder.
I want her to see a child in trouble and step up to the plate instead of washing her hands of it like it’s never taken a village to raise a child.
Someone like the nameless stranger could help me achieve that.
My teeth grit. The path my inner monologue is heading down disturbs me.
I barely know the woman who immediately captivated my daughter, and I’m not the best judge of character, so I shouldn’t be tossing out recommendations.
I thought Anna, Camille’s mother, was wild and unpredictable.
Those beliefs tumbled in the worst way imaginable only six short months ago.
As I store the credit card the receptionist hands me, I watch Camille drag the blonde woman back toward the blocks she was playing with before she was called into her appointment.
Even while she stacks them high, building the fortress that will forever protect her, her right hand remains wrapped around the stranger’s fingers.
Camille doesn’t speak. She hasn’t said a word in over six months, but her facial expressions communicate everything. She trusts this woman and feels safe. The way she is at ease in her presence reminds me that I can’t force her to trust me. I have to earn it.
I just have no fucking idea how to do that.
I never used to question my instincts. They’ve led me to immense success. But since Anna’s return, I’ve been more cautious. I got it wrong then—spectacularly wrong—and I refuse to make the same mistake.
But this feels different. Camille isn’t the only one drawn to the stranger. I couldn’t even let her leave earlier. When she tried to sneak out at the start of Camille’s appointment, my hand shot out to grab her arm before my head could caution my heart.
Admitting that terrifies me, but it also gives me something I haven’t felt in years.
Hope.
Maybe I wasn’t a soft cock Anna played for a fool five years ago. Maybe she wasn’t “the one” my father always said would knock me on my ass. I swore in that bathroom that she was the princess of my story. Now, nothing could be further from the truth.
A sensation I haven’t felt in years spreads through my chest when I join them in the waiting room. Camille beams up at me. Maybe this is what fatherhood is about—messy, awkward embraces wedged between the moments that make the rest worth it.
When my shadow falls over the blonde, she instantly shifts her weight, preparing to bolt.
Camille’s hand remains curled around hers, but she gently tries to pull away.
Camille’s pupils blow out before she shoots her eyes up to me.
As I mentioned earlier, her expressions are extremely readable.
She doesn’t want this busty bombshell to leave her side any more than I do, and she isn’t ashamed to admit that.
“Oh, honey,” the stranger murmurs, her bottom lip trembling as much as Camille’s. “I’m sorry. I’d love to stay and build blocks with you for a little longer, but I have a… prior arrangement.”
Don’t ask me why jealousy burns through my veins. I have no claim to this woman, but even a man with a black heart can’t miss the signs of covetousness.
A squeak escapes the stranger’s fuckable lips when I can’t restrain my overbearing nature a second longer. “With whom?”
“Um...” Her I-don’t-answer-to-you expression causes my cock to have an impromptu meeting with my zipper for the second time this afternoon. “With work. I’m rostered for an afternoon shift.”
Her reply doesn’t ease my jealousy, but I play it cool.
Barely. “Can I give you a ride?” Camille jumps up, slips her left hand into mine, then reaffirms her grip on the stranger’s hand, reconnecting us.
Her clutch proves she isn’t picking the stranger over me—she wants both of our support.
“It’s the least we can do since you stayed for Camille’s appointment. ”
I can tell without looking at Camille that she’s silently begging. I can feel it.
Although my daughter is giving the stranger every face that’s had my brothers eating out of her palm for six months, she seems immune. “That isn’t necessary. It’s only a short walk from here.”
She’s a terrible liar, but I let it slide for now. I have more urgent priorities, like making sure my daughter knows her every want, need, and dream will always come before mine, before I address my disdain for liars.
“The shift that starts in”—I check my watch before adding with authority—“one hour and thirty-three minutes. If your workplace is within walking distance, as you said, it gives you plenty of time to accompany us to the sweets store.”
As excitement bursts across Camille’s face, the blonde’s eyes lift to mine. Her stare isn’t out of desperation, more caution. Mindful that the forests surrounding this city are full of wolves, she is suddenly aware she’s being targeted by one.
I smirk, pleased to uphold her belief that I’m a tyrant. Her snarl almost matches mine in viciousness. She isn’t afraid of me—only terrified of getting tangled in something she doesn’t understand.
Smart woman.
I didn’t solely change my business operations when Camille entered my life. I changed myself. Not necessarily because I wanted to, but more that I had to.
Before Camille, I was emotionally detached.
I cut through problems without hesitation.
I didn’t negotiate or soften, and I certainly didn’t bend for anyone.
The day she arrived at my doorstep on her mother’s hip instead of in her stomach, the coldness inside me thawed.
Did I suddenly gain a conscience or a heart?
I honestly don’t know. But whatever the fuck it was, it changed everything.
I remain ruthless and ambitious. Some might even say perilous, but now all my efforts center on what’s best for Camille.
She wants this blonde in her life, so even if my interests weren’t as immediate, I’d still pursue her—for Camille.
No personal agenda. I take my promises seriously.
I’ll die before disappointing my daughter.
Not granting her every wish would disappoint her.
Camille’s bottom lip quivers as she silently pleads with the blonde. She doesn’t speak, but her begs are loud enough to shake the walls of the dental clinic.