Page 88 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Nikolai leans back in his chair, swirling the vodka in his glass as he studies me. The slight smile playing on his lips isn’t one of amusement—it’s calculated, just like the rest of him. “And you’re here because…?”

“Because I need your resources,” I say, refusing to sugarcoat it. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. People who hear things. People who know things. I don’t have time to run down every lead myself, not when the Colombians are breathing down our neck and somebody is clearly trying to make a move. I need you to cut through the noise.”

His silver-gray eyes flicker, just barely, but it’s enough to tell me I’ve hit the mark. Nikolai knows how valuable his network is—and he knows I know it, too.

“And why should I help you?” he asks, deceptively smooth. “You and I don’t exactly have a history of goodwill.”

“This isn’t about goodwill,” I reply, hardening. “It’s about family. Katya is your sister. Sofiya is your niece. This isn’t just my fight—it’s yours, too. Or have you forgotten that?”

The room goes still, the air charged with an invisible tension. Nikolai’s smile vanishes, replaced by a glint in his eyes. Behind him, Ivan shifts, his massive frame stiffening as if he’s preparing to intervene. Aleks and Konstantin remain motionless, but I can feel the weight of their attention, their readiness to back me up if this conversation goes sideways.

For a moment, Nikolai doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his gaze piercing, like he’s trying to decide whether I’m worth the trouble. Then, slowly, he sets his glass down on the table and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, mirroring my posture.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he says quietly. “But I want you to understand something, Igor. My loyalty to my sister and niecedoesn’t extend to you. I’ll help because of them—not because you asked.”

“Fine,” I reply, my jaw tight. “As long as they’re safe, I don’t give a damn about your reasons.”

“Good,” Nikolai says, his sharp smile returning. “Because if I do this, you’ll owe me. And I don’t give second chances, Sokolov. Don’t make me regret this.”

I don’t flinch under his gaze, even though I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. I nod once, acknowledging the terms. Nikolai isn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart—he’s making a calculated move, and I’d be a fool to think otherwise. But for Katya and Sofiya, I’ll swallow my pride. I’ll play his game, even if it means walking away with more chains than I came in with.

Nikolai gestures to Ivan, who steps forward and hands him a sleek black tablet. He taps the screen a few times before sliding it across the table toward me. “Start from the beginning,” he says. “Everything you know about the attack. No detail is too small.”

I glance at Aleks, who nods subtly, and then at Konstantin, who remains impassive but alert. Taking the tablet, I start talking, laying out the events of last night in meticulous detail. The fireworks. The smoke. The shattered window. The burned remains we found. Every possibility I’ve considered and every dead end I’ve hit.

As I speak, Nikolai listens, his expression unreadable. He asks questions here and there, cutting straight to the point with each one. By the time I finish, the room feels heavier, the reality of the situation settling over all of us like a storm cloud.

“It’s not the Colombians,” I conclude. “Aleks already confirmed that with our contacts. This feels… different. More personal.”

Nikolai steeples his fingers, leaning back in his chair as he considers my words. “You said there was debris left behind from the fireworks?”

Aleks reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the cylindrical tube he found, placing it on the table. “We were hoping your chemists could analyze it. Trace the residue. Maybe even track where it was sold.”

Nikolai picks up the tube, turning it over in his hands. “I’ll have Roman handle it when he gets back. In the meantime, I’ll put feelers out.”

“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words out. They taste bitter on my tongue, but they’re necessary.

Nikolai doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he sets the tube back down and leans back, his gaze cool and calculating. He’s silent for a moment, and I know he’s weighing his options, already figuring out how to turn this to his advantage.

“We can work out a deal,” he says. “But let me be clear once more—this isn’t about helpingyou. I’m doing it for Katya and Sofiya. I couldn’t care less if you die in the process.”

“Fair enough.” I shrug. His words don’t sting. I’ve never expected him to care if I lived or died. “I can take care of myself.”

“Good,” Nikolai replies, his tone clipped. He gestures to the bodyguard standing behind him—a hulking brute with a permanent scowl and hands like cinder blocks. “Ivan will handle this. He’s the only one I trust to protect Katya and Sofiya while also figuring out who’s behind these threats. He’ll report everything back to me, and I’ll provide you with the information you need to deal with your situation.”

My blood boils at the implication. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I snap. “And I’m not giving him access to my home.”

“As I said, this isn’t about you,” Nikolai bites back, his voice sharp as a blade. His chin lifts in that imperious way of his,and his cold gaze doesn’t waver. “Besides, he and Katya are old friends. You want her to feel safe, don’t you?”

The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I grit my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides.

I glance at Aleks, hoping for backup.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Aleks says cautiously, as if he’s choosing each word with care. “Time’s of the essence, and every minute we waste arguing puts us all at greater risk.”

I hate that he’s right. If something happened to Katya or the kids because I was too stubborn to swallow my pride, I’d never forgive myself.

With a heavy sigh, I glare at Nikolai. “Fine. Ivan can come along. But there are limits.”

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