Page 11 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

And right now, that feels like the exact place I should be sending him.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally returns. I didn’t even realize he’d gone to grab his pants. His torso is still bare, the sheen of sweat glistening faintly under the dim light.My perfume lingers in the air around him, mingling with the masculine scent that’s so uniquely his.

I groan inwardly. If this isn’t the most awkward situation of my life, I don’t know what is.

He sits down beside me, the couch dipping under his weight. For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost think I imagine it, he says, “Tell me about her.”

The tenderness in his tone is a blade to my chest. I don’t know how Igor Sokolov can look so damn dangerous and sound so devastatingly gentle at the same time, but the combination makes my blood run cold.

I can’t do this. I need time to think. “Can I have a glass of water?” I blurt out, my voice sharp and rushed. It’s ridiculous, but it’s the only thing I can come up with to buy a few seconds.

Without a word, he gets up and goes to the minibar. The moment he turns his back to me, my brain kicks into overdrive, mapping out my escape. Which hotel exit will have the fewest people? If I slip out now, how much of a head start can I get before he comes looking for me?

But before I can finish plotting, he’s back, moving with his typical quiet, predatory grace. He sets a bottle of water and two glasses on the table, then turns back and uncaps a bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a glass. My heart races as he takes a long, deliberate gulp, watching me intently.

“Now,” he says, his voice lower this time, darker. “Who’s Sofiya?”

I grab my glass and take a sip of the whiskey he poured for me, the liquid burning its way down my throat. It’s rich, expensive—just like every other indulgence men like Igor are used to.

I sigh, wishing I could rewind the past twenty-four hours and undo the entire chain of events that brought me here. Idon’t regret what happened six years ago. Not for a second. But if there’s one thing I do regret, it’s letting him find out about Sofiya.

The last thing I need is Igor calling in a team of lawyers to tear my life apart. But the way he’s looking at me now—his jaw tight, his shoulders tense—I’m not so sure that’s how he would choose to go about it anyway.

The silence between us grows unbearable. I can feel his patience unraveling, thread by thread, until it finally snaps.

With a sharp growl, he hurls his glass at the wall, the shatter of crystal ricocheting through the room. My body jolts, my heart slamming into my throat.

Before I can react, he’s on me. His massive hands grip the edge of the couch as he leans down, his body so close our knees touch. The sheer size of him, the intensity in his dark eyes, makes the air feel too thick to breathe.

“Answer. My. Fucking. Question.” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble.

I stare at him, stunned, as my mind scrambles for an answer. But when his expression softens just a fraction, the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“You were there,” I snap, my voice rising in defense. “We didn’t use protection. Three months later, I had a positive pregnancy test in my hands. End of story.” My lips curl into a sarcastic smirk. “Who would’ve guessed you’re so virile?”

The smirk falters as his face darkens. My heart stutters in my chest, and I brace myself for whatever comes next.

“You should’ve told me,” he snarls, his voice tight with anger, though there’s something else there too.

I let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t want you in our lives, Igor. I didn’t want Sofiya to know who you are.”

His hands twitch, his knuckles white as he grips the sofa. “You had no right. She’s my kid.”

“Is she now?” I challenge, my voice sharp and defiant.

“Yes.” His voice cracks slightly, the admission catching in his throat before he forces it out.

“Biologically, yes,” I spit back. “But that doesn’t mean you get to barge into our lives and make demands.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says quietly, his eyes flashing fury.

“Is that so? Do enlighten me.”

He straightens slightly, his jaw tight. “I take my responsibilities seriously.”

“So, because you were a careless sperm donor, I’m supposed to include you in our lives?” I snap, my voice growing louder. “We had one night, Igor. And yes, I enjoyed every second of it. But Sofiya is mine. She’s my entire world, and I won’t let you in.”

“I have a son,” he says suddenly, his voice low and raw.

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