Cats In the Cradle

1. Daniel

Ok so this is a spin-off. You don't technically need to read the first two books to fully understand it,  but it'll help.

I wrote this first chapter after having a burst of creative energy.

I think I have a rough idea of how I want the story to play out, but it may take me a while to update this story, compared to the first two.

...Cuz I'm a grown ass woman, and I need to get my shit together and stop writing so much. 🥴

Warning: This is a dark romance, but it'll have large bursts of fluff. So much mildly uncomfortable fluff. You've been warned. 😅

*********************************************

"Ok baby, just let me know if you need anything. Literally anything. I will drop everything I'm doing if you need something or if you're in trouble. But if it's an emergency, you can always call Auntie Anya or Auntie Ebony, since they're closer," my mom repeated for the 800, 000th time.

"Ok. Thanks, mom, I know. I love you."

"I love you too. Call me when you get settled." She said tearfully, still holding onto me with her petite body. It was crazy how much I dwarfed her now. She was like a full foot shorter than me.

After several more goodbyes and tears and promises to call her that night and at least once a week, she was finally on her way. My siblings were already waiting for her in her SUV, having grown bored of her relentless goodbyes after a while. They knew I'd visit often, and we could FaceTime whenever.

It wasn't like this was the first time she'd helped me move in to a new place. I was a junior in college. She was just anxious because I was living in an apartment off campus for the first time.

I watched her walk down the hallway towards the elevators, and she tearfully waved one more time. She passed my new roommate, Diego, on her way out. I could already see some of his boxes in our little apartment, but he was carrying one more small box.

"Hey!" I held my hand out to shake his free hand. "Nice to finally meet you in person. I'm—"

"Holy shit, dude, was that your mom??" He exclaimed, craning his head around to watch her before she disappeared around the corner.

My skin prickled. My hand dropped down to my side. I already knew where this was going.

"Yes." I replied curtly, hoping my new roommate would pick up on my nonverbal cues and shut the fuck up. I held the door open for him, and we both walked inside.

"Sheeeeesh. She looks like she's only like 5 years older than you, man. She is fucking hot."

I clenched my jaw and rolled my eyes. Guess he wasn't great at reading body language.

Or he was just an asshole.

"I fully understand why your old man risked everything for that, now." He said with a laugh, bending down to pry open one of his boxes.

I immediately tensed.

He didn't actually just say what I think he said.

"Come again?" I asked him, squinting my eyes. He now had my full attention.

He glanced up from his box, looked back down, then did a double take when he caught my icy stare. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and his Adams apple bobbed nervously.

"Hey uh, I'm sorry. No disrespect. I did a little...digging...when I saw that we'd be roommates. I had to make sure you weren't a creep or something." He blushed a little. I said nothing, continuing to glare as I waited for him to explain his hilarious joke about my "old man".

"I realized you're the son of Alessandro DeSantos...that disgraced Finance billionaire who was the CEO of DFS. I actually did a report on him, during my senior year, cuz my family lives in his luxury apartment complex. He had everything and threw it all away...for a woman." He chuckled.

"But I mean... now I kinda get it....!" He laughed again, probably hoping I'd crack a smile.

I didn't.

I hated when my friends drooled over my mother. But I hated it even more when people brought up my father.

I had very, very faint memories of him from when I was 3. And my mom rarely spoke of him. I knew they'd gotten divorced and that he hadn't been happy about it. And that it was somehow tied into him being imprisoned.

For years, we were stalked and harassed by paparazzi, and I wasn't even entirely sure why. I was always just kind of used to them being around, but it creeped me out when they'd ask my mom things like "How does it feel to be free?"

"What's life been like since you escaped?"

As if she was a prisoner while she'd been married.

But my mom didn't want me to know much. She begged me not to Google him or the events surrounding their divorce. Whenever he was brought up, she would always make it a point to stress how important it was to get consent from girls before I touched them. She drilled into me how important it was for me to respect everyone. Especially women.

Apparently, Alessandro DeSantos—"my old man"—hadn't heeded that lesson well. My grandma Sofia and grandfather Alejandro always seemed pretty heartbroken about that.

But everyone agreed it was best that my siblings and I didn't know the whole story. So I didn't push it. I wasn't really sure I even wanted to find out.

"Can you not read the fucking room, dude? Don't talk about my mother like that. That's weird as fuck. And Alessandro DeSantos is barely my father. He's been in prison almost my whole life. I don't even remember him." I told him, hoping he'd just drop it.

We were not off to a good start.

"I'm sorry, bro. I'll drop it." He said without much conviction. I gave him a weak smile to show my gratitude.

"But like...don't you ever wonder about him? The prison he's at is not super far from here, from what I read. You've never wanted to visit him?"

I suddenly swung around and got up in his space.

He instantly stood up and puffed out his chest, like he was trying to prove he wasn't afraid of me.

Except he was suddenly sweating a little, so it wasn't working.

I was 6'4" at the age of 20 1/2, and I had an athletic build from years of playing soccer, basketball, swimming, and lifting weights. My mom said I got my height and natural athleticism from my "sperm donor". But she said I got my intelligence and kindness from her.

This guy—Diego—was like 5'9" and looked like he lifted beer pong cups for his weekly exercise.

"We're done talking about my family. Are we clear?" I said, my voice just above a whisper. I made it sound like a question, but we both knew it really wasn't a request.

"Yeah, man. Crystal." He said, wide-eyed again. I glared at him a few seconds longer before backing away and turning towards my own boxes.

My mom swore I got my kindness from her.

So I didn't have to wonder where I got my temper from.