Page 52 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Myvolchitsa.

I close my eyes, letting it wash over me. I can see her standing in front of me, her green eyes blazing with defiance, her sharptongue daring me to claim her. She’s never made anything easy for me, not then and not now. But that’s part of what drew me to her in the first place.

She wasn’t scared.

Not of the Bratva, not for her reputation, not of the violence.

And now she looks at me like I’m a threat.

I grab the bottle again, pouring another shot.

This isn’t over. Not with Katya. Not with Sofiya. Not with Montoya.

Tomorrow, I’ll deal with Olenko. Tomorrow, I’ll fix this mess.

I raise the glass to my lips, my mind racing even as the vodka dulls my senses.

18

KATYA

Breakfast with the Sokolovs is, without a doubt, one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life.

Around the long, intimidating dining table sits a mix of hostility, indifference, and forced politeness. It’s a room full of power, but no one seems to know how to deal withme. Besides Igor and his father—who’s making it his mission to ignore me entirely—everyone else’s reaction to my presence seems to be either amusement or suspicion.

I’m the outsider who brought a secret into their tightly controlled world. And now that they know Sofiya is Igor’s daughter, I can feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on me. They resent me for keeping her from them.

Sofiya, oblivious to the tension, laughs at something Aleks signs to her. Out of all the Sokolovs, Aleks is her favorite after Damien, and it’s easy to see why. He’s the only one who knows sign language, and I’m grateful she has someone else to communicate with. Someone who can bring a smile to her face.

But not everyone shares that sentiment.

Igor, seated across from us, is far from happy. He doesn’t say anything outright, but I can tell. It’s in the way his jaw tightensevery time Aleks makes Sofiya laugh. The way his eyes narrow, hard and unrelenting, even as he tries to appear composed. He’s furious, and this passive-aggressive energy of his makes me want to grab Sofiya and run far away from this place.

But no matter how much I want to run, there’s a part of me that stays drawn to Igor. Like a moth to a flame, I keep circling the fire, knowing it will burn me but unable to resist the pull. Maybe I’m crazy, or maybe I’ve convinced myself that this dangerous game is our only salvation.

Not that Nikolai agrees with me. My brother hates that we’re here. Every time we speak, he reminds me of what Igor did—that it was his recklessness that caused the accident that killed our mother. As if I’ve forgotten.

I haven’t.

But Nikolai is hardly one to talk. He married the sister of the man he claims to hate, didn’t he? If he can move on and make peace with the past, then I should be allowed the same courtesy.

Fucking double standards.

Yet another reason to resent men. They always think they know best.

“Is Sofiya going to school with me?” Damien’s innocent voice pulls me from my thoughts. He looks up at Igor, hope shining in his eyes. “Can she be in my class?”

“She is two years younger than you, so she can’t be in the same class,” Igor tells him, keeping his tone even. “But she’ll come with us when we drop you off.”

“Where are you going then?” Damien asks. “Can I come too?”

“Not this time, D,” Igor replies, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “But I promise we’ll spend plenty of time together soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Damien nods earnestly.

“Great.” Igor glances at his wristwatch, his smile fading as his expression hardens. “It’s time to go.”

“I can take Damien to school for you,” Irina offers, her voice calm but firm. “It’s important you’re not late.”

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