Page 89 of Mafia Prince's Secret Baby

Nikolai’s lips curl into a smug smirk as he stands, brushing imaginary lint off his expensive suit. He’s won, and he knows it. “We have a deal,” he says, extending his hand.

Reluctantly, I rise and shake it.

“Now,” Nikolai releases my hand and nods toward the glass of vodka on the table, “you didn’t touch your drink. It’s rude to refuse a friendly offer, Igor.”

I bite back a growl, picking up the glass and downing it in one gulp. The burn spreads down my throat, sharp and immediate, but I slam theryumkaonto the table without breaking eye contact. Aleks and Konstantin exchange uneasy glances before following suit, their expressions tight as they drain their own shots.

With the deal made, we leave. Ivan is already shadowing me like a damn storm cloud, his massive frame looming over us as we head to the underground garage.

When we reach the car, Dominik stiffens, his sharp eyes narrowing on Ivan. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension is obvious.

“You two go home,” I tell Aleks. “Don’t leave Katya’s side.”

Aleks hesitates, his brow furrowing. “I’ll get the men?—”

“No,” I cut him off. My tone leaves no room for argument. “I want you personally there. You’re the only one I trust to do whatever’s necessary to keep them safe.”

He stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nods.

I watch as Aleks and Dominik get into the car and drive off, taking a piece of my worry with them. With them there, I know Katya and the kids will be safe.

Turning to Ivan, I let my irritation show. His stoic expression doesn’t change, and I hate him a little for it. “I hope one of these cars is yours,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have a sudden urge to go to a strip club.”

For the first time, Ivan’s mouth twitches, though it’s more a grimace than a smile. “Your call,Shef,” he rumbles, his voice deep and gravelly.

I roll my eyes and climb into my car. When I find whoever’s behind this, they’ll wish they were dead.

32

KATYA

“For fuck’s sake, Aleks,” I snap as his broad frame crashes into me, nearly knocking me forward when I stop abruptly. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

He grimaces apologetically but doesn’t move back, his stance resolute. Igor’s orders for constant surveillance are suffocating, even more so because Aleks won’t budge an inch. At least I’m stuck with Aleks and not Konstantin, who’s with Irina and the kids on the other side of the house.

“It’s for your own good,” Aleks says quietly, his voice calm but firm. His eyes flick to the shattered window at the far end of the room. “What are we doing here, Katya? Come downstairs. Let’s regroup with everyone.”

I shake my head. “I want to see the damage.”

Before he can argue, I leave him standing in the doorway and walk toward the broken window where the firework rocket exploded. The scene is even worse up close. The white carpet is charred and peppered with ash, dark scorch marks spreading like a spiderweb across the wall. The glass frame is cracked, the edges jagged, with bits melted into deformed globs from theheat. Black powder stains the floor and windowsill, the acrid stench of burned chemicals still lingering in the air.

Fireworks.

Rockets.

This wasn’t some juvenile prank or an accident. It was a warning.

The thought churns in my stomach like spoiled milk, twisting into knots of unease. I’ve sat at the dinner with Igor’s enemies. I know about the missing shipment, about the tension bubbling beneath the surface.

But this feels personal.

The anxiety claws at me. Did Igor bring this danger upon us? Or did I, by stepping into his world? I’ve been trying so hard to find a sense of normalcy, to carve out a life for Sofiya and myself in this chaos, but maybe I’ve been a fool. Maybe I’ve been ignoring the reality of what being with Igor means.

“Are you okay?” Aleks’s voice cuts through my thoughts, softer than I expected.

How can such a simple question feel this loaded?

I turn to look at him, his tall, imposing frame outlined against the doorway. With his buzzcut and sharp blue eyes, Aleks is a near mirror image of Igor, but there’s a warmth to him, a gentleness that sets him apart.

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