Chapter 17 DAN
DAN
It’s like looking at my kid brother, Dom. The same smattering of sun-kissed freckles across his nose. The same goofy teeth we both had before braces—a trait carried on from my father.
Rose stays silent as if frozen, her knuckles white as she moves away to clutch the edge of the worktop.
A lump rises in my throat. “Hey kid, I’m Dan.” I manage a smile. “I’m not just the gardener, I’m an old friend of your mum’s.”
Rose tilts her head. “Wow, the tea must have worked. You’re actually telling the truth.” Her sarcasm is in full swing. “I think friend is a bit of stretch, though.”
“I’m Angelos.” He stares back at me as if studying me with the same quiet scrutiny I’m giving him. Does he see the same resemblance?
My gaze slides to Rose. Her eyes mist over, a glassy sheen like condensation on a cold windowpane.
“How old are you, kid?”
“Thirteen next week.”
My heart stutters. I do the math. Rose doesn’t need to confirm it. I know the truth. I feel it with every fibre in my being. Every emotion swirls in my gut like a tornado churning up my insides.
I’ve seen photographs of him, but it’s only now, being with him in the flesh that I’ve put it all together.
My heart thuds against my ribs, fighting to escape the chaos. I rub my temples, my whole body needing to lash out at something, but my head screaming to stay calm in front of the kid.
My kid.
Angelos opens the fridge door. “She’s never mentioned you before.”
My eyes lock with Rose’s. “Funny, she never mentioned you either.”
“Mum, can I choose where we order from?”
“Sure.” Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. A tear hangs from her lash, a wrinkle in her brow. So many unspoken words conveyed in a single look.
Angelos opens a drawer and pulls out a Chinese takeaway menu. “Are you staying for dinner, Dan?”
Rose’s voice croaks, “I think Dan has to go.”
I bristle my spine. “Chinese food sounds good, actually.” I match her glare. My fist clenches around the packet of gum in my jeans. But not even a joint would calm this rage inside me.
“Can I place the order, Mum?” Angelos grins, oblivious to the storm brewing between us. “Mum always orders the same thing. Sweet and sour chicken, plain chow mein.” He wrinkles his nose. “Boring.”
“Sweet and sour, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Shocker.” The sweet girl I knew is now a sour woman who hates me so much. She’s kept this secret all these years.
Rose’s fingers tighten around the edge of the counter. “Dan… I…”
“What do you order, Dan?” Angelos says, still blissfully unaware of the razor-wire tension between us.
“I’ll have the same as your mum. I'm feeling a little sour right now.”
Rose sucks in a breath, her hand trembling as she gathers the mugs from the worktop and rinses them in the sink.
Angelos shrugs. “Boring, but okay.” He wanders off to place the order, leaving just me and Rose in the kitchen.
The second he’s gone, she’s on me. “Are you out of your mind?” She hisses, stepping closer.
I tilt my head. “Why? Because I want to sit at a table with my son?”
Her breath shudders out, and for a second, vulnerability flashes in her eyes before she blinks it away. “He’s not yours.”
“Now who’s full of bullshit?” My voice drops raw, barely more than a whisper. “You’ve had thirteen years, Rose. Were you ever going to tell me?”
She flinches. It’s a small thing, a tiny crack in her armour, but I see it.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Do you know what it’s like to look at someone and see yourself staring back? To know before a single word is spoken?”
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull away.
I let the silence stretch, let the weight of it settle between us before I finally say, “We need to talk, Rose.”
She swallows hard, then turns away, busying herself with the pots. “Not tonight.”
I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. “When?”
“I only have him for tonight, and then he’s back at school tomorrow. Please, Dan.”
“Tomorrow?”
She nods once, but I don’t miss the way her hands tremble as she puts the mugs in the cupboard. A tiny tremble, barely noticeable, but I see it. Just like I see every other damn thing she’s trying to hide.
Thirteen years.
I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My whole damn world has just shifted beneath my feet. I scrub a hand over my face, trying to force some kind of rational thought through the roar in my head. I should walk out, take a breath, get my head on straight before I do something stupid.
But I can’t.
Because my kid is in the next room picking out food from a Chinese takeaway menu like this is just another normal fucking night.
And because Rose—Rose, who I would have once died for—never told me. Never gave me the choice.
I lean against the counter, watching her like I’m trying to crack a code. “You weren’t going to say anything, were you?”
She inhales sharply but doesn’t turn around. “Dan—”
“No, go on. Tell me how you were planning to never tell me.”
Her shoulders stiffen. “He can never be yours.”
The words land like a punch to the gut. Not because she doesn’t want me to be his dad—but because she’s convinced I can’t. I straighten, ice crawling through my veins. “You don’t get to decide that.”
She finally turns, her blue eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “Like hell I don’t. I raised him, Dan.”
“And I didn’t even get a chance.” My voice is quieter now, but there’s an edge to it I know she hears.
Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
I push off the counter, shaking my head. “You should’ve told me.”
She exhales, looking away. “And you should have been honest with me about who you were, but instead, you went on a killing spree, assassinating my father and his men.”
My mouth fills with acid. “Those men raped and murdered my mother. You’re right. You were just part of the mission.” I spit out the words, wanting to hurt her like I’m hurting now. I never intended to fall for the mission, but I fell hard for the spina velenosa, much to my poor judgement.
Her face hardens, erasing the girl I knew.
“I know exactly what my part was, Dan. I don’t need you to confirm what I already know.
But know that I’ve had my own mission these last thirteen years.
And it involves keeping my son safe.” She pulls a knife from the block behind me.
The cool tip of the blade digs under my chin.
“If you or anyone threatens to hurt me or my son, I won’t hesitate to use whatever weapon I have at my disposal to protect what’s mine. ”
I lower my voice so only she can hear. “He’s mine too.”
Her throat bobs, but she holds her ground. “I told you, he can never be yours. His life depends on it.” Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and furious, like the knife at my chin.
I step back, dragging a hand through my hair. “Your husband?” It all becomes clear now.
She places the knife back in the block and nods. “He would kill us both if he ever found out the truth.”
My chest tightens. “I’d never let that happen.” We stare at each other for a beat too long. All this time, she kept him a secret to keep him safe in her world. The woman before me is a fucking warrior and I don’t know if I want to spank her ass raw or make love to her all over again.
Needing to touch her, I close the distance between us and wrap her hair around my fingers.
She tilts her head, her mouth parting as if submitting to me, a tremble in her breath.
It takes every ounce of strength I have not to take what I need. My emotions warring in my head, part of me needing to devour her, the other wanting to destroy her. Our panting breaths mingle together. “We’ll figure this out another time. But I am staying for dinner.”
Her jaw tightens, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me to leave.
But then Angelos’ voice drifts in from the next room. “Mum, do you want the salt and pepper chips you like?”
Rose closes her eyes for a beat, exhaling slowly. “Yes, love.”
Dinner feels like walking a tightrope.
Angelos chats easily at the table, unaware that we’re in the eye of the storm.
I observe him, noting the way his nose scrunches when he laughs—same as mine.
The way he shovels food onto his fork without looking—same as Dom used to.
Every tiny detail is another punch to the gut, another reminder of how much I’ve missed.
Rose barely eats. She keeps glancing between us, like she’s waiting for the world to crack open and swallow the dinner table whole.
“So, Angelos,” I say, leaning back in my chair, playing it cool. “What do you do when you’re not picking out top-tier Chinese takeaways?”
He shrugs, slurping down a noodle. “Football. PlayStation. Hanging out with my mates.”
I raise my brow. “Football, huh? You any good?”
His eyes light up. “I play centre-mid for my school team. We made it to the cup finals.”
Pride flares in my chest, even though I have no damn right to feel it. That’s my kid.
“What team do you support?” I ask, already bracing myself.
“City.”
I choke on my drink. “City?”
His brow furrows. “What? You a United fan or something?”
“Course I am.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. This is devastating news.
Angelos grins, pointing a fork at me. “You realise City’s better, right?”
Rose groans, rubbing her temples. “Here we go…”
I fold my arms. “Better? You think Pep’s got anything on Sir Alex?”
“Sir Alex retired years ago,” he scoffs. “Meanwhile, City’s won five out of the last six league titles.”
The kid’s got stats. I like it.
Rose sighs. “If you two start debating football history, I’m leaving the room.”
Angelos grins. “Wanna settle it on FIFA?”
I glance at Rose. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t object. “Fine,” I say, pushing back my chair. “But if I win, you admit United’s the better team.”
Angelos laughs. “Yeah, not happening.”
We move to the living room, and he fires up the PlayStation, tossing me a controller. “You know how to play, or am I about to destroy you?”
I smirk, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s just say I’ve got a bit of experience.”