Page 35 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

I glance at the bloodied boxes one last time, the sight making my stomach twist with disgust. “Have someone clean this shit up,” I say, my voice tight with command. “And get ready to move. Be ready in half an hour.”

Aleks frowns. “Ready for what?”

“What do you think?” I throw over my shoulder as I head toward the apartment door. “I’ve got another mess to deal with. I need to make sure Katya doesn’t implode while I pack her and the kids up.”

Aleks mutters something low and probably profane, and for once, I don’t blame him. He knows the hell I’m about to walk into. Getting Katya to New York in the first place was like dragging a feral cat across a river. Convincing her to move into my parents’ estate—where my mother’s hawk-eyed scrutiny will follow her every step—is about to be a full-on war.

But there’s no alternative. Sofiya and Damien are my kids.My responsibility. Mine to protect. Katya can yell, scream, and throw every fiery glare she wants, but she’s not running to her brothers for backup. If she wants to stay with Sofiya, she’ll do itunder my roof. If not, she’s welcome to leave. Alone.

That resolve hardens as I shove open the door.

Katya and Damien’s babysitter are waiting for me in the living room, Katya’s arms are crossed and her green eyes sparking with defiance. She’s already bracing for a fight.

“Don’t even think about unpacking,” I tell her, my voice firm and final. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

12

KATYA

Ican’t make sense of anything anymore. The past few days have been hell. First, it was packing for New York. Then barely half an hour after arriving, Igor decided that wasn’t good enough. Now he’s ordering us to move into his parents’ home like we’re pieces on his personal chessboard.

I push up from the couch, my frustration bubbling over. He’s standing there like he always does—unflinching, cold, in complete control. But not of me.

We lock eyes, his icy blue gaze clashing with my own. My arms cross over my chest, and I let the words fly.

“The only other house I’ll move to is my brother’s.”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of warning flashing in his gaze, but I stand my ground. I’m done dancing to his tune. I’m not blind. I saw the blood-soaked boxes. Someone’s sending him a message. That’s his world, not mine. To Igor, this is probably business as usual—a hazard of his job. But to me? This is life or death.

I have Sofiya to think about. And if I can use this chaos to get us away from him, I’ll take it.

“I’m not asking,” he says, his voice low and full of menace. “I’m telling you. It’s not safe here.”

“Exactly,” I shoot back without hesitation. “It’s not safe to stay with you.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, and when he speaks again, his voice drips with ice. “Let me rephrase. If you don’t grab your shit, I’ll personally throw you into the car with your suitcase.”

I step closer, my chin tilting up as my anger boils over. “I’d like to see you try.”

In two strides, he’s in my space, crowding me. His hands grip my waist, pulling me against his body like he’s daring me to push him away.

“Don’t tempt me,volchitsa,” he murmurs, his voice low and threatening. His lips hover so close to mine I can feel the heat of his breath. “There are still things I haven’t done to you.”

“You’re disgusting,” I snap, shoving against his chest.

He laughs, low and mocking. “Sure. That’s why you’re burning up right now.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I hiss.

“Liar,” he taunts, his grin sharp. “I bet you’re soaked for me.”

Heat floods my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but pure rage. My fists clench, and I throw every ounce of venom into my words. “Step away from me, or I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead,” he says, his gaze boring into mine. “Do it.”

The challenge hangs between us, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he’s not bluffing. I’ve used this threat more times than I can count to get out of bad situations. But Igor? He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, the sting of defeat settling deep in my chest.

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