The Tyrant (Banker #3)(23)

I could never do that to Martina.

Regardless of the sleepless nights, the dirty diapers, the stains she would leave all over my clothes, she was still my family—and you never turned your back on family. I took her into her bedroom and rocked her in the chair, unsure what else to do with her. She wasn’t old enough to talk, just old enough to stare at me.

I stared back.

When she was quiet like this, being a parent felt like the easiest thing in the world. But I knew this peace wouldn’t last forever. The road ahead would be difficult, and I would have to learn so many things. I didn’t even know how to change a diaper.

Thank god for YouTube.





When Siena woke up, she stayed in bed and had dinner on a tray. I sat in a chair by her bedside with Martina in my arms. She was so small she could easily fit into just a single arm. With her little fingers and little toes, it was difficult to believe she would grow up to be a woman someday.

“How was she?” Siena’s hair was pulled back, and even though she’d slept all day, she still looked exhausted. Her body must still be in disarray after pushing out another person. Her eyes were filled with such fatigue that it seemed like she hadn’t slept at all.

“There were a few hours when she wouldn’t stop crying. I fed her, changed her, rocked her…nothing worked.”

“Maybe she was cold?”

“I don’t know. But she stopped eventually. The rest of the time, I just held her in the rocking chair. She stared at me and I stared at her.”

Siena smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Martina started to cry a second later, her wails so loud, they nearly shook the walls.

“Not so nice anymore,” I said with a chuckle.

“She’s probably hungry.” She moved the tray aside then lifted up her shirt to reveal her swollen tit. “I’m uncomfortable anyway.” She took Martina from my hands and positioned her at her breast.

Martina latched on right away.

I watched Siena breastfeed our child, and now everything felt even more real.

Siena watched our daughter for a long time, affection in her eyes and a smile on her lips. “I can keep her. I’m sure there’s stuff you need to do.”

“I’d like to hit the gym and take a shower.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

I stayed in my seat and continued to watch them together, mother and daughter. It was hard to believe I’d created something so beautiful and innocent, but I was sure Martina had inherited those qualities from her mother. She had my eyes, and hopefully, she would have my strength and fierceness. I wouldn’t raise her to believe in fairy tales or Prince Charming. I would raise her to be her own warrior, to never settle for anything less than what she deserved. One day, a man would come to me asking for her hand, and I wouldn’t give her away unless that man was twice the man I was.

Siena studied me. “What are you thinking about?”

The question broke my concentration. “Father stuff…stuff I shouldn’t have to worry about for a long time.”





By the fourth day, I understood Martina’s needs a lot better. Her cries always sounded the same to me, but the time of day gave clues to what she needed. Changing diapers was easy, feeding her from the bottle was even easier. Once she got comfortable in the house, she started to sleep a lot more.

Those were my favorite moments.

I went into my office and sat in the leather armchair behind my desk. My laptop was open in front of me, but the liquor cabinet was closed tight. I would normally be drinking or smoking in here, but now that I had a daughter, the things I loved were put on the back burner—because I loved her more.

I leaned back in the chair so my chest was flat, and Martina slept on her stomach right against me. The position wasn’t that comfortable for me, but that was how she liked to take her midday naps. I typed on my computer and responded to a few emails.

Bates called me.

I answered with a soft voice. “Yes?”

“What do you mean yes? I see that you’re working. Ready to come back to the office?”

Siena had nearly recovered from labor, but I was giving her as much time as she needed to get back on her feet. Taking care of Martina for most of the day allowed her to relax. So far, she hadn’t changed a diaper once. “Not for a few more days.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m taking care of Martina right now. Siena is still resting.”

“Cato, that’s what nannies are for. And they’re dirt cheap.”

Thankfully, Martina stayed asleep for the entire conversation. Perhaps she liked listening to the sound of my voice. “I don’t want a nanny, Bates. I want to be the one to take care of her.”

“You want to change diapers?” he said incredulously. “Wipe butts?”

“Yes. And yes.”

He scoffed into the phone. “I don’t get you, man. You’re this powerful banker, but you’re at home with a brat drooling all over you.”

“Don’t call her that,” I warned. “You’ll need facial reconstruction if you do.”

“Then when are you coming back?”

“You know, paternity leave is at least three months.”

“No, asshole. You aren’t skipping out for three months.”