Page 54 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Even when I’m angry at him, there’s something about Igor that sets my pulse racing. And I hate myself for it.

Because no matter how much I tell myself he’s the enemy, I can’t ignore the truth.

Igor Sokolov is dangerous.

And not just to my heart.

For fuck’s sake, Katya. Get it together.

I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself as Igor pulls up in front of Damien’s school. He turns his gaze to me. “I won’t be long.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, unbuckling Damien with practiced ease, his large hands gentle as he takes the boy’s small hand and helps him out of the car. The soft murmur of their exchange floats into the air as Igor crouches to adjust Damien’s coat, pulling him close before closing the car door and setting off.

For a fleeting second, I watch them disappear through the front gate, and something inside me tightens.

It’s not jealousy. Not exactly.

But it’s…complicated.

With Igor out of sight, I let my expression drop, finally allowing myself a moment of reprieve. The mask I’ve worn all morning slips, and the flood of exhaustion hits me like a brick. Every second I spend in Igor’s world—theirworld—makes me feel like that frail girl I used to be. The one who depended too much on other people, who got hurt every time she let herself care.

I hate that feeling.

A soft tap on my shoulder jolts me back to reality. My head snaps around, and I’m met with Sofiya’s wide, curious eyes. She’s signing before I can pull myself together.

“Where are we going?”

“To the hospital,”I reply automatically, my hands moving to match my words.“The doctors want to see you.”

She hesitates for a moment, processing what I said, and then taps her left ear.“My ears?”

I nod.“Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to try something new.”

Her small brows furrow in thought, and I can almost see her piecing things together. Then, to my surprise, her face brightens with one of her radiant smiles—the kind that makes her entire being glow, the kind that makes me think maybe I’m doing something right despite all the chaos surrounding us.

“Don’t be scared, Mama,”she signs, her movements quick but deliberate.“I’ll be okay.”

I return her smile as best as I can, though mine doesn’t reach my eyes. How can it, when I’m still grappling with the weight of this situation? From the corner of my eye, I spot Igor striding back toward the car.

“Yeah, you’ll be okay,” I murmur under my breath, turning forward in my seat before Sofiya can catch the cracks in my composure. “It’s your father who worries me.”

Igor slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame shifting the car slightly as he shuts the door. His eyes flick to Sofiya in the back seat, and for a moment, I catch the faintest glimpse of something soft in his expression.

Something like worry.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his tone neutral.

“Fine,” I reply curtly, keeping my gaze fixed out the window.

We fall into silence as the car pulls away from the school. I can feel Igor’s tension beside me, the way his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, the subtle stiffness in his shoulders.

He’s still on edge from breakfast, from the fight with his father. Like the anger clings to him long after the words are said.

I keep my eyes on the passing scenery, pretending I don’t notice the way his jaw flexes whenever his thoughts get the better of him. It’s safer this way—keeping my distance, staying out of his orbit. The last thing I need right now is another confrontation.

Sofiya, blissfully unaware of the tension in the front seat, hums softly to herself in the back. I glance at her through the rearview mirror, and my heart tightens.

She deserves more than this.

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