Page 42 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Irina smiles, nodding toward the silver dress. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, thank you. I’ll manage,” I say quickly, eager to be left alone.

She nods, graceful as ever, and leaves the room. The moment the door clicks shut, I let out a slow breath and sink onto the bed.

Irina seems too good to be a part of this family. The rest of them deserve to be torn apart, piece by piece.

Especially Igor.

I shake my head and stand, lifting the dress she brought. It’s beautiful, I’ll give her that, but to me, it’s more than just a dress—it’s armor. A weapon I’ll wield until I figure out how to get Sofiya and me out of this place for good.

When I descend the stairs,the chatter from the living room grows louder. My lips curl into a flat smile, my mask firmly in place. The moment I step into view, the room goes silent, all eyes turning toward me.

Igor’s gaze is the heaviest of all. His eyes slide over me, slow and deliberate, taking in every inch of bare skin exposed by the dress. The hem brushes my thighs as I walk, the soft swish of fabric making my stomach churn. When our gazes meet, I hold his stare, pouring as much venom as I can muster into my expression.

I want to look away. Ishouldlook away. But I don’t. Because the unspoken threat between us is clear: behave, or else.

“Madre mía… Qué chica más guapa!”

The voice draws my attention, and my eyes snap to a tall, broad-shouldered man with tanned skin and striking hazel eyes. He stands next to a blond, muscular companion, both of them radiating danger beneath their tailored suits.

“Stand down, Montoya,” Igor says, his forced smile as sharp as a blade. “She’s mine.”

Normally, his possessiveness would make my blood boil, but the way his father seems to approve makes my stomach turn. I think I’m starting to understand why Irina stays silent so often.

Igor crosses the room and offers me his arm. I hesitate but take it. For now, I’ll play along.

“Timur, Montoya,” Igor begins, his voice smooth but authoritative, “allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Katya Volkova.” He emphasizesgirlfriendand my last name, making it clear to everyone in the room exactly where I stand.

Montoya steps forward, taking my hand and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Pleased to meet you,señorita,” he drawls, flashing a charming grin. A small scar beneath his eye only adds to his bad-boy aura. “Is she single?”

“Just as I said,” Igor growls, his tone deadly, “she’s mine.”

Timur glares at Montoya, his voice sharp. “Back the fuck off, Montoya. We’re here to build alliances, not make enemies.”

Igor, sensing the tension, pivots. “You haven’t met our youngest brother yet,” he says, gesturing toward a tall man lingering by the kitchen doorway.

Mikhail.

I’ve heard enough about him to know exactly who he is: the one who lost the shipment.

But right now, he’s too busy ogling a young maid to care about his introduction. The way his gaze lingers on her is almost… normal. Unexpectedly so.

“Mikhail!” his father barks, snapping his fingers.

Reluctantly, Mikhail tears his gaze away from the girl and joins us, his lips pulling into a lazy smile.

“This is Mikhail,” Igor says pointedly, his tone carrying a warning I don’t fully understand.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer.

Mikhail’s smile widens as he takes my hand and presses a lingering kiss to my knuckles. His eyes, identical to his father’s, gleam with mischief.

“If you ever get bored of my brother,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin, “my room is two doors down from yours.”

My stomach twists, and I have to force myself to keep the polite smile on my face. This family is going to be the death of me.

Igor steps forward, his expression darkening as he shoves his brother back. “If you know what’s good for you, Mikhail, you’ll watch your mouth.”

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