MAY'S POV
For months, Danny Morgan had been two different men.
There was the Danny who laughed at my terrible jokes even when they weren't funny. The one who leaned back in his chair at dinner, shaking his head with a grin like I had just said something ridiculously charming.
There was the Danny who sometimes came home late at night carrying small paper boxes from fancy bakeries—desserts so delicate they almost looked like art. He would drop them on the coffee table, sit beside me on the couch, and watch whatever strange movie I had picked that evening.
I rarely understood the plots. Half the time I had to whisper questions.
"Why is that man crying?"
"Because his wife left him."
"But she was just there five minutes ago."
Danny would sigh quietly, rubbing his forehead.
"That was a flashback, May."
"Oh."
He would chuckle softly and press play again.
That Danny felt… warm.
Safe.
And sometimes, when he looked at me, there was something in his gaze that made my chest tighten in a way I didn't fully understand. Something careful. Almost protective.
Like I was something fragile he didn't want the world to break.
But sometimes…
Sometimes another Danny appeared.
I didn't notice it right away.
At first it was just small things.
The way his expression could suddenly harden during phone calls. The way his voice would drop into something colder, sharper, when speaking to certain people.
But the first time it truly unsettled me was during a dinner party.
Danny had invited several of his "business partners" to the mansion.
The dining room looked like something out of a royal banquet that night. The long shiny table gleamed beneath the crystal chandeliers, and the air smelled faintly of roasted meat, wine, and expensive cologne.
Men in tailored suits filled the room, their voices loud and confident as alcohol loosened their tongues. Their watches glittered under the light. Their laughter came easily.
They looked powerful.
Dangerous.
The kind of men who were used to getting whatever they wanted.
I sat beside Danny, quiet as usual.
My hands rested politely in my lap while conversations flew over my head like birds I couldn't catch. They talked about shipments, territories, deals, numbers that meant nothing to me.
Sometimes Danny would respond with a calm sentence or two, his voice smooth and controlled. Other times he simply listened, swirling wine slowly in his glass while the others spoke.
I felt like a ghost sitting among kings.
Then, halfway through the meal, one of the men across the table leaned back in his chair and glanced at me.
He was older than Danny, with silver at his temples and a sharp smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Your new girl is pretty, Morgan," he said casually. His gaze slid over me in a way that made my skin prickle.
"Where'd you pick her up?"
The table grew quiet for a split second. Then everyone looked toward Danny.
I waited.
Danny lifted his glass slightly, examining the dark red wine inside like he was thinking about the answer.
Then he said casually,
"An alley."
The table exploded with laughter. Loud. Unrestrained laughter.
Glasses clinked together as the men leaned back in their chairs, amused by the image.
My stomach twisted, and heat rushed to my face. I waited for Danny to correct them—to tell them it wasn't like that, to explain that I wasn't just something he'd picked up off the street like a stray dog.
Even if that was technically the truth, a small, stubborn part of me still hoped he saw me as something more… someone who meant a little more to him than that.
But Danny didn't say anything. Instead, he lifted his wine glass slightly. "Best investment I ever made."
The laughter came again.
Even louder this time.
Someone slapped the table. Another man muttered something approving under his breath.
I forced a small smile, staring down at my plate like the food had suddenly become very interesting.
But inside me, something shifted.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a tiny sound. Like a hairline crack forming in glass.
Later that night, after the guests had finally left and the mansion had grown quiet again, I found Danny in the bedroom.
He stood near the dresser, loosening the knot of his tie while the city lights glowed faintly through the windows behind him.
For a moment I just watched him. The same man who had laughed with those men earlier. The same man who had once brought me warm soup when I was sick.
Finally, I spoke.
"Was that supposed to be a joke?"
Danny glanced at me briefly while pulling the tie free from his collar.
"What?"
"At dinner."
He draped the tie across the back of a chair.
"They were drinking."
I hesitated before continuing. "You made it sound like I was some stray dog you picked up."
The words hung quietly in the room. Danny finally turned to face me fully. For a long moment, he just looked at me.
His face unreadable. Then he smiled lightly.
"Relax, May." His tone was easy. Playful. Like I was worrying over something silly.
But his eyes…
His eyes were cold.
And the tiny crack inside me spread just a little wider.