Page 70 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

“No. Stop, let me look.” I grin. “Look into those brilliant, clever eyes. You’re captivating. Fierce.”

“I’m not,” she protests weakly.

“A liar and a fighter too.”

She gasps. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I like what I see,” I admit.

“That was… intense,” she tells me, shaking her head. “But it doesn’t change anything between us. This can’t happen again.”

It seems a good thing the dimness of my room hides my eyes because a sharp pain stirs my soul. She doesn’t know me yet; she doesn’t understand what I am offering her.

Her head’s trying to fight this, even though her heart’s already mine. I need to find a way to convince her to take the plunge. Coming home with Galina’s lipstick on my shirt might not have been the best move, so I can’t really blame her for pulling back. But damn, I need her to let me in.

My brow raises. “I’d like to see you stick to that.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Can you seriously try to resist this? Right now?”

“I mean it,” she replies, turning red.

“Good. Let me remind you what you’re saying no to,” I purr, stroking her bare arms, her breasts, and the small of her waist. “Your body is like a sculptor’s masterwork, and I’m willing to help make it come alive.”

She bites her lower lip, then moves a hand through my hair. Fingers tug on the strands until her touch elicits a moan.

I catch her hand before she can pull away, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Her skin is soft, delicate beneath my lips, and I linger for a moment longer than I should. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Katya. Anything,” I murmur, my voice low but steady.

Her lips curve into a soft smile, so faint it might not even be there. But I see it. I feel it. It paints the edges of her mouth, andfor a second, I let myself hope. Hope that she won’t ruin this moment. Hope that, for once, she’ll just let usbe.

Her hand brushes through my hair, slow and deliberate, combing the few strands left after I dragged her through the kind of night that should leave us both too weak to argue. Her fingers linger, and in that small moment, I realize something I’ve never fully allowed myself to admit.

It’s her gaze.

That’s what draws me in the most. That’s what I hate the most.

There’s something about the way Katya looks at me—steady, unflinching, and without any of the bullshit I’ve grown used to seeing in other people’s eyes. I’ve often wondered if people notice how much I hold back when I look at them. If they can see that my poker face is a carefully crafted shield, built over years of observation and necessity.

But with Katya? Right now? She sees me. Not the mask, not the image I project, butme.And the worst part is that she doesn’t flinch. The way she looks at me… it’s like she’s impressed. Like she enjoys seeing me without the walls, without the armor.

And it pisses me the fuck off.

Because Katya Volkova is an enigma. The hardest fucking riddle to solve.

“Katya,” I say softly, unsure where to even begin. A thousand words claw at the back of my throat, fighting to escape. I want to tell her everything. Every dark, twisted piece of me. I want her to see all of it, the real me, and still choose to stay.

She shakes her head before I can say more, her fingers slipping away from my hair. “This doesn’t change anything,” she says, her voice quiet but firm.

“But—”

“No,” she cuts me off, her tone sharp enough to slice through the air between us. “I tried giving you a chance… I’m still trying. But it’s hard, Igor. You’re the kind of man who kills for a living. I don’t want me or Sofiya to be a part of it. This was a mistake.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightens, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. “A mistake?” I repeat, disbelief heavy in my voice. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. I want this, Katya. Webothdo. Let me in. I will shield you. I will make you happy.”

“It was a great fuck,” she says, pushing away from me, the shift in her body language like a slap. “We’re both adults. We’re attracted to each other, and we have needs. There’s nothing wrong with helping each other. This once. But it doesn’t mean we’re a couple. Or that we will ever be a family.”

I sit up, the muscles in my jaw clenching so hard I can feel the ache radiating through my skull. “I understand,” I say, my tone cold and clipped. But inside, I’m anything but calm.

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