Page 4 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

My entire body aches, every muscle stiff and sore from being crammed in this tin can for nine goddamn hours.

“Remind me again why we had to personally fly to Moscow?” I groan, rolling my neck to ease the tension building at the base of my skull.

Aleksander stretches beside me, his long limbs unfolding with the casual grace of someone who hasn’t spent the last several hours fantasizing about putting a bullet through the cockpit window just to end the boredom. “Father wants to remind the men that as long as they’re loyal, we’ll always show up when they need us.”

“Yeah? Well, next time, Father can haul his own ass across the Atlantic.” I extend my arm, cracking my shoulder as I stretch. “Nine hours is way too long to be cooped up with nothing to do but chat, stare at the clouds, and count the secondsto our inevitable deaths. You’re lucky I didn’t decide to speed that process up myself.”

Aleks rolls his eyes, ignoring me as usual. He’s heard worse.

Not that I didn’t find a few distractions along the way. The flight attendant was hot, but I should’ve waited until the last hour of the flight to fuck her in the bathroom. At least then I wouldn’t have had to deal with her trying to makeconversationafterward. She’s sweet, sure, but she’s still clinging to the fantasy that I might be her knight in shining armor.

Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t wear the armor—I melt it down and turn it into bullets.

“We’re almost there,” Aleks says, as if I couldn’t see that for myself. The private plane dips lower, the runway stretching out below us. “The car will take us straight to the courthouse. The sooner we handle this, the sooner we’re back in New York.”

Great. Another thing to look forward to.

Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to stay as far away from Russian courts as humanly possible. But here I am, walking straight into the lion’s den with my father’s orders strung around my neck like a noose. As the heir to the Sokolov empire, it’s my responsibility to show our men that we’ll stand by them. That if they keep their mouths shut, we’ll clean up their messes—no matter how deep they’ve buried themselves.

This particular mess? An unfortunately timed police raid that caught a handful of our guys with guns, drugs, and a laundry list of crimes. They’re knee-deep in shit, but luckily, it’s nothing our expensive lawyers can’t dig them out of. The bogus terrorism charges the cops slapped on them will never stick. No Russian jury would dare convict anyone with ties to the Sokolov name.

I know all this. And yet, every fiber of my being is screaming at me to turn back.

But loyalty doesn’t come with conditions. My father is a bastard, but he’sourbastard, and I’ll stand by him no matter how many times the world tries to rip us apart. It’s not like this is anything new. With the vultures circling our family every other week, trouble is practically a monthly occurrence.

The plane lands, the seatbelt sign blinks off, and the cabin doors open with a hiss. I stand immediately, my limbs heavy and my eyes drooping thanks to the change in time zone. The smart thing to do would be to catch up on sleep.

Aleks is already off the plane, walking ahead of me with his usual calm, controlled demeanor. I follow, my leather gloves creaking as I clench my fists, trying to focus on anything other than the headache I’ve had since takeoff.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Sokolov,” the flight attendant purrs as I pass her. She flashes a smile wide enough to show off the dimples I saw up close just a few hours ago. She tries to slip a folded scrap of paper into my hand—her number, no doubt—but I walk past without sparing her a glance.

“Really?” Aleks drawls once we’re seated in the back of the black SUV waiting on the tarmac. “You could’ve at leastpretendednot to be an asshole. She seems like a good girl.”

“The only thingI’mgood at,” I reply, adjusting my cuffs, “is making good girls act bad.”

Aleks shakes his head, his disapproval palpable. I see it in the tight set of his mouth, the way his icy blue eyes dart away as if he can’t even stand to look at me. But that’s not my problem. I do what I want, when I want, and there’s nothing anyone can say or do to stop me.

Some men chase ambition, trying to claw their way toward goals they think will make them whole. Not me. I’ve always known exactly who I am.

And I’m not looking to change.

The courthouse looms ahead, an imposing structure of steel and glass. My pulse kicks up as we approach. It’s not fear—fear and I don’t get along. But there’s something about this place, about the way the justice system pretends to hold power over men like me, that makes my temper rise.

Aleks notices. He always does. “Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. “You don’t even blink when you’re cornered in a knife fight, but the second you see a courtroom, you act like you’re about to explode.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, adjusting my stance as we step out of the car.

The security checkpoint is as humiliating as expected. I grit my teeth and let the guard pat me down, resisting the urge to snap his neck when his hand lingers a second too long in my pocket.

“Second floor, courtroom four,” Aleks says as we make our way through the marble lobby. “They’ve already started, but it doesn’t matter. We’re just here to show our faces.”

“Let’s get this over with,” I growl, striding ahead.

The doors to the courtroom swing open, and I step inside, my boots echoing against the polished floor. Whatever sarcastic comment I was about to make dies on my tongue the second I see her.

She’s sitting behind the bench, her posture confident, her head held high. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders, drawing my gaze like a magnet. She’s not just beautiful—she’sstunning, the kind of woman who commands attention without even trying.

She’s trouble.

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