Page 60 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

I don’t take the bait.

“But why is the prince himself gracing me with a visit?” Boris continues, his grin widening. “Surely you don’t needmeto handle this. Can’t you sort it out on your own?”

“We’re doing everything we can to locate the cargo,” I tell him. “But the Colombians aren’t exactly known for their patience. I was hoping you might help speed things along—offer a hint or two, perhaps.”

“And why would I do that?” Boris narrows his eyes, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer.

“I’ll level with you,” I say, flashing a tight smile as I down the rest of the vodka. I set the glass back on his desk with a softclink, the burn of the liquor doing little to ease the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Mikhail fucked up the transport, sure. And while we’re willing to pay for the mistake, we both know that won’t be enough to appease the Colombians. They’ll demand blood. Someone’s family is going to pay the price for this.”

“Your family, not mine,” Boris clarifies, his grin widening.

I push the glass toward him, and he obliges, pouring me a little more. Boris Olenko is many things—a manipulator, a lecherous bastard—but he’s not stupid. He knows exactly what’s at stake here. He knows an alliance with our family is worth more than any temporary deal with the Colombians. Out here in the underworld, every day is an election, and Boris is always campaigning for more power.

“Name your price,” I say, watching him carefully.

Boris leans back, swirling the vodka in his glass with the air of a man who knows he’s holding all the cards. “I could ask for anything,” he murmurs, the edges of a devilish grin tugging at his mouth.

“In theory, yes,” I reply, matching his tone. “But let’s not get too greedy. I can easily take this same offer to someone else.”

Boris laughs, a low, strained sound that grates against my nerves. “Fine, fine. I don’t know anything about it,” he says, feigning innocence. “But I’ll have my men ask around discreetly. The girls, too—they hear things. I should have something for you before the week’s over.”

I bring the glass to my lips again, considering his words. He doesn’t seem worried about the possibility of war spilling into our streets, doesn’t care if the Colombians tear us apart. His only concern is how much he can milk this for his own gain.

“Make sure you do,” I say, leaning back in my chair, signaling that our business is done.

I’m halfway to standing when Boris lifts a finger, stopping me in my tracks.

“One more thing, Sokolov,” he says, grinning like the cat that just caught the mouse.

I grit my teeth. Of course there’s more.

“What is it?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

“Do you remember my daughter Galina?”

Of course, I remember her. She went to school with us, a spoiled little brat who used to bat her eyelashes and giggle like a fool every time I walked into the room. She wasn’t shy, either—always asking obnoxious questions about Russian men, usually the kind that ended with smirking and crude gestures. And then there’s the not-so-little matter of my father once discussing an arranged marriage between us back when Boris still had hopes of worming his way further into our family’s business.

“Perhaps,” I hedge, keeping my tone neutral. If my instincts are correct, this is going somewhere unpleasant. “How is she?”

“She wants to become a model,” Boris says proudly, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced she cured cancer.

“It would suit her,” I note dryly.

“She’s got what it takes,” Boris nods proudly. “She’s already done work forGQ Russiaand has appeared in music videos. But she has bigger plans. She needs the right kind of attention to truly shine.”

I already know where this is going.

“I can make some calls if you want,” I offer, though my tone is laced with suspicion.

“Oh, no, no,” Boris says, waving a hand. “Galina is far too skilled for that. What she needs is a powerful man by her side to bring her into the spotlight.”

He can’t mean?—

“I want you to take her on a date,” Boris says, too casually for my liking.

I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding as I swallow the urge to lunge across the desk and throttle him. He knew I’d have to say yes. The smug bastard set this up perfectly.

“A date it is,” I finally grit, forcing a smile. “Tell her to doll up.”

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