Page 25 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

I need Sophie at my side. That's if she's on board with this.

It won’t just be a statement, it’ll be an invitation. For scrutiny. For consequences.

I stare down at the bruised skin of my knuckles and the envelope still sitting on the nightstand.

“I’ll bring a plus one.”

7

SOPHIE

“This is not what I signed up for.” Tension coils in my chest, tight and unforgiving.

I stare out the living room window, arms crossed so tightly they hurt, jaw clenched until it aches.

The city looks the same. Cars blurring by, people rushing along the sidewalk, all oblivious to the fact that a Bratva enforcer showed up at my apartment less than twenty-four hours ago.

When my phone buzzes with an incoming call, I don’t even have to look.

My father. He knows. And this is him being his version of reassuring.

Him calling me should comfort me. It doesn’t. Because I know what he’ll say. That he’ll handle it.

And I know he can, because of how influent he is.

But I also know why he has this much influence.

And that makes me sick.

I sigh and swipe to answer, pacing the length of the window. “Unless you’re calling to say it was all a bad dream, don’t bother.”

“Nice to hear your voice too, sunshine. I’ve already arranged for additional security cameras at your building. Nothing like that will happen again.”

Right. I want to roll my eyes, even if he can’t see it. “Comforting.”

“I know you don't agree with everything I do. But Mikhail Orlov knows better than to cross a man who’s protected their interests for a decade.”

Like that erases everything. Like the fact that he’s built a career alongside the same criminals who had the audacity to send a warning to my front door is supposed to make me feel protected, not like a pawn in someone else's dangerous game.

I keep silent, but he doesn’t.

"They know better than to touch someone I love.”

That word, love, lands wrong. Like it’s meant to mean something. Like he still gets to use it when it comes to me. Like it ever meant anything to him.

There’s something in his tone, though. A flicker of guilt, maybe.

Or maybe I’m just imagining things because I want so badly for him to feel something about this.

About me.

I press two fingers to my temple. “So, you’re the reason I’m supposed to feel safe now? And what? That should make me want to forgive everything else?”

There’s a pause, long enough to make me wonder if he’s going to say something real.

"Just stay focused, Sophie. We both want the same thing here.”

I hang up without replying.

---