Love, Daddy Roman

Snow falls in heavy, swirling flakes as I step through the huge glass doors of the Callahan Resort. The sharp bite of winter clings to me, stinging my cheeks, and chilling my fingers despite the gloves. It’s the type of weather that warns you to stay indoors, and I wouldn’t be here if not for this job.

Outside, the world is blanketed in white, the surrounding forest and cliffs disappearing into the relentless snowfall. It’s beautiful and suffocating all at once—a picture-perfect Christmas scene, if you’re into that sort of thing. I’m not.

The lobby is pure luxury with a towering Christmas tree in the center, its golden lights bathing the polished marble floor in a warm glow. Stockings hang along the edge of a grand stone fireplace, and somewhere, faint holiday music plays.

Everything in here screams wealth, excess, and exclusivity.

I tug my coat tighter around me, brushing off a few stray snowflakes, and make my way to the reception desk. My boots and suitcase tires leave wet prints on the pristine floor, and the squeak echoes, drawing a glance from the young woman behind the counter. She sizes me up with a polite curiosity reserved for someone who looks out of place, which I do.

“Welcome to the Callahan Resort,” she says, her voice sweet but cautious. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes,” I answer, sliding my ID across the counter. It’s not my real name, of course, just an alias to get in. “Sienna Martin.”

She checks the screen, nodding as she pulls up the booking details. My heart thuds against my ribs, but I keep calm. This isn’t my first rodeo. The reservation was meticulously crafted, my cover story flawless. Just a travel writer exploring luxury coastal resorts. Getting here wasn’t easy.

The snowstorm that rolled in tonight had already grounded flights and made the winding mountain roads treacherous. Lucky for me, I have a stubborn streak and tire chains.

This place is Roman Callahan’s kingdom, and if the rumors are true, his empire is built on secrets darker than the black ice outside. Secrets I plan to expose.

“Here for the week?” she asks, handing back my ID and room key.

Nodding, I slip both into my coat pocket. “And just in time, it seems. That snow doesn’t look like it’s letting up soon.”

“It’s the worst storm we’ve had in years,” she says, glancing at the massive windows. “We’ve had several cancellations.”

Perfect. Fewer people mean fewer distractions.

“Enjoy your stay, Ms. Martin,” she says with a polite smile.

A shift in the atmosphere stops me in my tracks and pulls my attention. The faint murmur of voices grows quieter, and there’s a tension in the air, like everyone’s suddenly holding their breath, waiting for a reveal. I look up, and there he is.

Roman Callahan, billionaire, resort owner, and the man at the center of one of the biggest scandals I’ve ever chased.

The man is impossible to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, and commanding, he saunters in like he owns the place. Because he does, moving with the kind of arrogance that comes from knowing the world bends to your every will. His black shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tanned skin, and his dark slacks fit him like they were tailored by a god.

My stomach tightens.

Roman Callahan in the flesh is even more dangerous than I anticipated. He’s flanked by a sharply dressed assistant who murmurs something to him, gesturing toward an iPad. He barely glances at it, his laser-sharp gaze sweeping the lobby.

When it lands on me, all the air is sucked out of the room. I’m caught. Trapped. And my practiced mask of confidence falters for the briefest second under the intensity of his stare.

He doesn’t look away.

Neither do I.

“Ms. Martin?” The receptionist’s voice snaps me out of the moment, and I turn back to her. “Is there a problem?”

“No. Just getting ready to leave.” My voice stays steady, even as my pulse races. “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“And you, too.”

Dragging my suitcase, I pivot to the elevator, forcing myself not to glance back at Roman. But I still feel his gaze burning into me, like the brush of fingertips across my skin, until the elevator door shuts him out. Arriving at my floor, I stalk to my room and unlock the door.

The suite is more than I expected.

Expansive, elegant, and dripping with money. The windows overlook the snow-covered cliffs, where wind-whipped waves crash against the frozen rocks below. The glass rattles faintly as gusts howl outside, carrying snowflakes that seem to blur the line between land and sea.

Grateful to be alone, I toss my hand bag on the pristine white bed and exhale, letting the mask slip for just a moment.

This is it. The start of the job.

Instead of checking out other aspects of the room, I pull my laptop from my bag and settle into the plush armchair near the window. The storm outside grows fiercer. Snow piles on the ledges, frosting the panes and illuminating the room in a pale glow. I tap on a few keys, and the file on Roman Callahan stares back at me. Photos, documents, whispered accusations. A web of offshore accounts, suspicious partnerships, and enough shadows to make anyone curious.

Roman isn’t just a billionaire playboy running a luxury resort empire. He’s a man with secrets—secrets I plan to unravel.

But as I scroll through the files, I can’t shake the image of him in the lobby. The way he moved, the way he looked at me. I’ve spent years disarming powerful men, stripping away their armor with words and wit, but Roman feels different.

Dangerous.

The rest of my day is spent putting my plans into motion while the snowstorm intensifies. When it’s time for dinner, I change into a knee-length dress and pair it with a long coat to keep me warm. The dining room is a cavern of understated luxury, with warm lighting and festive decorations for the season. While everyone huddles together and chat, he stays away from the noise and chatter.

Roman sits at a corner table, a glass of iced scotch in his hand and an uneaten plate in his front. He fixes his eyes on me the moment I walk in. Damn. The heat of his gaze trails over me as I weave through the tables. I slide into a chair at the bar, ordering a drink I don’t want, and pretend not to notice him.

But Roman Callahan isn’t the kind of man you can ignore.

He stands, walking with a deliberate confidence that makes every head in the room turn as he approaches the bar. My drink arrives as he claims the stool beside me.

“You’re new,” he says, his voice low and smooth, like whiskey poured over ice.

“Should I be flattered that you noticed me?” I glance at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “Or is this something you do with all your guests?”

His lips curl into a wicked smile, and damn it, it’s unfair how good he looks up close. “I notice everything, Bambina.” A frown wedges between my brows, but he doesn’t give me a chance to query him. He signals to the bartender for a refill of his scotch, his gaze never once leaving mine. “Sienna, right?”

The sound of my alias on his lips sends a jolt through me. Of course, he knows my name. Roman Callahan wouldn’t let someone walk into his world without knowing exactly who they are, or who they claim to be. But I maintain my calm.

“That’s right,” I say, swirling my drink. “And you’re Roman Callahan.”

His smile deepens, like he knows a secret I don’t. My alias is solid, so I don’t have to worry about anything.

“And what brings you to my resort, Sienna?”

I lean back, meeting his gaze with all the confidence I can muster. “A story.”

“A story?” His brows lift, but he doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks intrigued.

“I’m a writer,” I say to fill in the silence. “Luxury travel. Resorts like this are my bread and butter.”

He takes a sip of his wine, his eyes narrowing, as if he’s dissecting every word I say. “I see.”

The weight of his attention is suffocating and electrifying all at once. He’s testing me, probing for cracks in my armor.

“And what…” he begins, voice low as he drops his glass on the countertop. I inhale when he flattens a hand on my knee, his fingers warm against my skin. “Do you think of my resort so far?”

His touch burns, sending unexpected sparks dancing over my skin. I stare at his hand, then back at him, and he cocks his head in a silent dare. If this is a test, I’m definitely passing it.

When I remain immobile, he slides off his chair. But I hold his gaze, my lips stretching in a fake smile. “It’s… impressive.”

Roman leans in, his presence overwhelming as he balances between my legs. I came here to survey my environment and be on top of my game, but it feels like I’m a chess piece in his.

“Let’s hope it lives up to your expectations, then.” There’s something in his tone, a challenge, a promise, or a threat. My pulse quickens, but I manage to retain my cool exterior.

“Oh, I think it will,” I say, matching his energy.

For a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle, the air crackling with tension. The storm outside rages, but the real danger is here, sitting beside me, watching me like he already knows I’m more than I claim to be.

Roman Callahan is no fool. And neither am I.

Let the games begin.