A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Volume 2 of Secretly Loved by the Dangerous CEO delves into aspects of Dane's life, upbringing, and conduct under the influence of his father who is, quite literally, a psychopath. There are depictions of domestic violence, assault, murder, and sexual contact undertaken by adults under coercion. Please read ahead carefully. I have attempted to offer trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters that depict these events, but I cannot be sure I have caught them all. If these types of events are difficult for you, you may wish to contact me in the comments, or via my Instagram/discord (see my author profile) for an overview of the plot, rather than reading Volume 2.

*****

​​

TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic violence and abuse for the next two chapters

Dane

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

(Dane is almost 10 years old; Chris is 7)

They'd heard his Dad come home, obviously already angry from the way he slammed the door and swore, so they'd stayed in Dane's room.

Since Chris had only ever been beaten by Dane's father once, he was nervous, but he didn't sit rigid the way Dane did, staring at the door as the voices below got louder.

"She'll give him dinner and he'll feel better," Chris said, making the dinosaur in his hands open its mouth wide so the little lego man could shovel food into it. "She said being hungry makes men angry. She'll make him food," he repeated, not looking at Dane. "Maybe that's what's wrong with you?" He looked at Dane and smiled the toothy smile he used whenever he wanted to get under someone's skin.

Dane stared at him from the corner of his eye, his breath pressing in and out too quick, too shallow. Dad hadn't been home for a week, which was becoming more and more common. Dane liked it when he was gone. Usually. But lately, with each passing hour his father was who knows where, Dane found himself winding tighter and tighter, like a guitar string being tuned. Because every tiny sound could be a car pulling into the garage. Or a door opening under the man's hand.

And maybe knowing where his dad was and what he was doing, was better than waiting for the unknown hammer to drop.

Except, now it had. His dad was home. And he was angry.

And Chris was telling himself that food was going to help? Little shit.

"Shut the fuck up," Dane muttered, trying to make out the words being thrown around downstairs—his father's voice deep and tight, his mothers high and desperate.

A dish clanged, dropped on a hard surface. Dane jumped.

"You said a swear," Chris said. "I'm telling Mom." He dropped the dinosaur he was holding and Dane was across the room in a shot, one hand on his brother's arm, his eyes still on the door.

"Don't go out there," he said, trying to sound strong, like his dad. People listened when his dad gave orders.

"Ow! Dane! You're hurting me! Let go! I wasn't going anywhere, stop!"

"I'm serious, Chris." He let him go, but stood over his brother, who scowled up at him, but his eyes were red the way they went when he was going to cry. The pussy. "You go down there now, you get your ass kicked, and her ass too. So, don't do it."

"I wasn't going to," he mumbled, trying to stop his chin trembling. "I meant tomorrow."

Dane stared at him a minute, then nodded. But he stayed standing between his brother and the door.

"Asshole," Chris mumbled.

"I'm telling Mom," Dane said robotically. If his mom was even up tomorrow. If she wasn't in bed and pretending to be sick again.

A shouted curse echoed through the house and a door banged.

Shit.

Dane crept towards the door to the bedroom, cursing the day his father had removed the handle and lock—after Dane had locked himself in one night when they were fighting, then forgotten to unlock it before his father came to wake him up the next morning.

He'd paid in blood and bruises for that one. And now there was nothing he could do.

The removed handle had left an open circle in the door that let in the light from the hallway, and some sound.

He could hear his mother, still angry, but her voice getting higher and higher. This wasn't good. This wasn't good. This wasn't good.

Dane's hands shook. He needed to go to the bathroom, but he couldn't walk into the hallway, that was just asking for his father's attention. Chris had started humming some stupid song behind him, and his mother's cries were rising below. Dane wanted to cover his ears so he could think, but then he wouldn't be able to hear. He needed to be able to hear. Because his dad… his dad was quiet just then.

When his dad wasn't making a sound, that was the worst sign.

Dane trembled.

When his dad swore and yelled, slamming things around, he was just pissed off. He'd slap someone and get it out of his system, Mom would cry and he'd tell her to shut up, and she would, and then he'd turn on a game or something and things would settle down. Dane did his best to make sure he stood between his parents when his dad was grumpy like that, so he'd get the cuff when it came.

But silence… the low voice. The smile…

When his father started acting like he liked you, or he thought something was funny. That was when things got ugly. Really ugly.

The longer he smiled, the worse it was going to be.

And now, shit, Dane couldn't hear the words, but he could hear the tone—the pretend caring. The pretend soothing.

His mom knew the tone too. She was starting to cry, she wasn't mad anymore.

She was begging.

Because those heavy footsteps were stomping through the house and towards the stairs.

He was coming.

Dane breath came so fast he started to see stars. "Get in the closet, Chris. Now!" He turned and yanked his brother up by his elbow.

Chris cried out and tried to claw Dane's hand off his arm, but he dragged him over to the closet and threw him inside, hissing "Shut up! He's coming!" and slamming the door shut behind him. There was no handle on the inside so he wouldn't get out until Dane opened it.

Then he turned. He felt like he was going to wet his pants, which was super embarrassing. His eyes pinched and he swallowed it back.

The footsteps were coming closer, each stair thumping under his weight like a countdown to Dane's ass-kicking. And his voice… Dane could finally make out the words.

"…just want to see my son. You're such a worrier, Jannie."

He jerked away from the closet so his father wouldn't know Chris was in there and ran to the other side of the room, though there was nowhere to go. He felt better putting the bed between himself and the door.

Then the door opened and his father stood there, smiling. "How's it going, son?" he asked, his eyes alight.

.

WANT TO READ MORE, RIGHT NOW? Check out the author note below to find out how you can read up to 25 Chapters in advance of their release, RIGHT NOW: